Chapter V

She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful girl, which she trusted, with such frequent m eetings at Hartfield, was foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet’s there could be little doubt that the idea of

being preferred by him would have all the usual weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing y oung m an, a y oung m an whom any wom an not fastidious m ight like. He was reckoned very handsom e; his person m uch adm ired in general, though not by her, there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense with: – but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin’s riding about the country to get walnuts for her m ight very well be conquered by Mr. Elton’s adm iration.

CHAPTER V

“I do not know what y our opinion m ay be, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr.

Knightley, “of this great intim acy between Em m a and Harriet Sm ith, but I think it a bad thing.”

“A bad thing! Do y ou really think it a bad thing? – why so?”

“I think they will neither of them do the other any good.”

“You surprize m e! Em m a m ust do Harriet good: and by supply ing her with a new obj ect of interest, Harriet m ay be said to do Em m a good. I have been seeing their intim acy with the greatest pleasure. How very differently we feel! –

Not think they will do each other any good! This will certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Em m a, Mr. Knightley.”

“Perhaps y ou think I am com e on purpose to quarrel with y ou, knowing Weston to be out, and that y ou m ust still fight y our own battle.”

“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support m e, if he were here, for he thinks exactly as I do on the subj ect. We were speaking of it only y esterday, and agreeing how fortunate it was for Em m a, that there should be such a girl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr. Knightley, I shall not allow y ou to be a fair j udge in this case. You are so m uch used to live alone, that y ou do not know the value of a com panion; and, perhaps no m an can be a good j udge of the com fort a wom an feels in the society of one of her own sex, after being used to it all her life. I can im agine y our obj ection to Harriet Sm ith. She is not the superior y oung wom an which Em m a’s friend ought to be. But on the other hand, as Em m a wants to see her better inform ed, it will be an inducem ent to her to read m ore herself. They will read together. She m eans it, I know.”

“Em m a has been m eaning to read m ore ever since she was twelve y ears old. I have seen a great m any lists of her drawing-up at various tim es of books that she m eant to read regularly through – and very good lists they were –

very well chosen, and very neatly arranged – som etim es alphabetically, and som etim es by som e other rule. The list she drew up when only fourteen – I rem em ber thinking it did her j udgm ent so m uch credit, that I preserved it som e tim e; and I dare say she m ay have m ade out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of steady reading from Em m a. She will never subm it to any thing requiring industry and patience, and a subj ection of the fancy to the understanding. Where Miss Tay lor failed to stim ulate, I m ay safely affirm that Harriet Sm ith will do nothing. – You never could persuade her to read half so m uch as y ou wished. – You know y ou could not.”

“I dare say,” replied Mrs. Weston, sm iling, “that I thought so then; – but since we have parted, I can never rem em ber Em m a’s om itting to do any thing I wished.”

“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a m em ory as that,” – said Mr. Knightley, feelingly ; and for a m om ent or two he had done. “But I,” he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over m y senses, m ust still see, hear, and rem em ber. Em m a is spoiled by being the cleverest of her fam ily. At ten y ears old, she had the m isfortune of being able to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was alway s quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she was twelve, Em m a has been m istress of the house and of y ou all. In her m other she lost the only person able to cope with her.

She inherits her m other’s talents, and m ust have been under subj ection to her.”

“I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on y our recom m endation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse’s fam ily and wanted another situation; I do not think y ou would have spoken a good word for m e to any body. I am sure y ou alway s thought m e unfit for the office I held.”

“Yes,” said he, sm iling. “You are better placed here; very fit for a wife, but not at all for a governess. But y ou were preparing y ourself to be an excellent wife all the tim e y ou were at Hartfield. You m ight not give Em m a such a com plete education as y our powers would seem to prom ise; but y ou were receiving a very good education from her, on the very m aterial m atrim onial point of subm itting y our own will, and doing as y ou were bid; and if Weston had asked m e to recom m end him a wife, I should certainly have nam ed Miss Tay lor.”

“Thank y ou. There will be very little m erit in m aking a good wife to such a m an as Mr. Weston.”

“Why, to own the truth, I am afraid y ou are rather thrown away, and that with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. We will not despair, however. Weston m ay grow cross from the wantonness of com fort, or his son m ay 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 nam e possibilities. I do not pretend to Em m a’s genius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all m y heart, the y oung m an m ay be a Weston in m erit, and a Churchill in fortune. – But Harriet Sm ith – I have not half done about Harriet Sm ith. I think her the very worst sort of com panion that Em m a could possibly have. She knows nothing herself, and looks

upon Em m a as knowing every thing. She is a flatterer in all her way s; and so m uch the worse, because undesigned. Her ignorance is hourly flattery. How can Em m a im agine she has any thing to learn 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 conceit with all the other places she belongs to. She will grow j ust refined enough to be uncom fortable with those am ong whom birth and circum stances have placed her hom e. I am m uch m istaken if Em m a’s doctrines give any strength of m ind, or tend at all to m ake a girl adapt herself rationally to the varieties of her situation in life. – They only give a little polish.”

“I either depend m ore upon Em m a’s good sense than y ou do, or am m ore anxious for her present com fort; for I cannot lam ent the acquaintance.

How well she looked last night!”

“Oh! y ou would rather talk of her person than her m ind, would y ou? Very well; I shall not attem pt to deny Em m a’s being pretty.”

“Pretty ! say beautiful rather. Can y ou im agine any thing nearer perfect beauty than Em m a altogether – face and figure?”

“I do not know what I could im agine, but I confess that I have seldom seen a face or figure m ore pleasing to m e than hers. But I am a partial old friend.”

“Such an ey e! – the true hazle ey e – and so brilliant! regular features, open countenance, with a com plexion! oh! what a bloom of full health, and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure! There is health, not m erely in her bloom , but in her air, her head, her glance. One hears som etim es of a child being ‘the picture of health;’ now, Em m a alway s gives m e the idea of being the com plete picture of 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 y ou describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise, that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsom e she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies another way. Mrs. Weston, I am not to be talked out of m y dislike of Harriet Sm ith, or m y dread of its doing them both harm .”

“And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in m y confidence of its not doing them any harm . With all dear Em m a’s little faults, she is an excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which m ay be trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will m ake no lasting blunder; where Em m a errs once, she

is in the right a hundred tim es.”

“Very well; I will not plague y ou any m ore. Em m a shall be an angel, and I will keep m y spleen to m y self till Christm as brings John and Isabella. John loves Em m a with a reasonable and therefore not a blind affection, and Isabella alway s thinks as he does; except when he is not quite frightened enough about the children. I am sure of having their opinions with m e.”

“I know that y ou all love her really too well to be unj ust or unkind; but excuse m e, Mr. Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider m y self, y ou know, as having som ewhat of the privilege of speech that Em m a’s m other m ight have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any possible good can arise from Harriet Sm ith’s intim acy being m ade a m atter of m uch discussion am ong y ou. Pray excuse m e; but supposing any little inconvenience m ay be apprehended from the intim acy, it cannot be expected that Em m a, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a source of pleasure to herself. It has been so m any y ears m y province to give advice, that y ou cannot be surprized, Mr. Knightley, at this little rem ains of office.”

“Not at all,” cried he; “I am m uch obliged to y ou for it. It is very good advice, and it shall have a better fate than y our advice has often found; for it shall be attended to.”

“Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarm ed, and m ight be m ade unhappy about her sister.”

“Be satisfied,” said he, “I will not raise any outcry. I will keep m y ill-hum our to m y self. I have a very sincere interest in Em m a. Isabella does not seem m ore m y sister; has never excited a greater interest; perhaps hardly so great. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one feels for Em m a. I wonder what will becom e of her!”

“So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very m uch.”

“She alway s declares she will never m arry, which, of course, m eans j ust nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has y et ever seen a m an she cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very m uch in love with a proper obj ect. I should like to see Em m a in love, and in som e doubt of a return; it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts to attach her; and she goes so seldom from hom e.”