Chapter VII

“Might he be trusted with the com m ission, what infinite pleasure should he have in executing it! he could ride to London at any tim e. It was im possible to say how m uch he should be gratified by being em ploy ed on such an errand.”

“He was too good! – she could not endure the thought! – she would not give him such a troublesom e office for the world,” – brought on the desired repetition of entreaties and assurances, – and a very few m inutes settled the business.

Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the fram e, and give the directions; and Em m a thought she could so pack it as to ensure its safety without m uch incom m oding him , while he seem ed m ostly fearful of not being incom m oded enough.

“What a precious deposit!” said he with a tender sigh, as he received it.

“This m an is alm ost too gallant to be in love,” thought Em m a. “I should say so, but that I suppose there m ay be a hundred different way s of being in love.

He is an excellent y oung m an, and will suit Harriet exactly ; it will be an ‘Exactly so,’ as he say s him self; but he does sigh and languish, and study for com plim ents rather m ore than I could endure as a principal. I com e in for a pretty good share as a second. But it is his gratitude on Harriet’s account.”

CHAPTER VII

The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion for Em m a’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield, as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a tim e, had gone hom e to return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing som ething extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a m inute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and finding she was not at hom e, nor particularly expected, had left a little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away ; and on opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was from him , from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal of m arriage. “Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of m arriage; and a very good letter, at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very m uch – but she did not know – and so, she was com e as fast as she could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do. – “ Em m a was half-asham ed of her friend for seem ing so pleased and so doubtful.

“Upon m y word,” she cried, “the y oung m an is determ ined not to lose any thing for want of asking. He will connect him self well if he can.”

“Will y ou read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. I’d rather y ou would.”

Em m a was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The sty le of the letter was m uch above her expectation. There were not m erely no gram m atical errors, but as a com position it would not have disgraced a gentlem an; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and the sentim ents it convey ed very m uch to the credit of the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense, warm attachm ent, liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, well,” and was at last forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it too short?”

“Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Em m a rather slowly – “so good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his sisters m ust have helped him . I can hardly im agine the y oung m an whom I saw talking with y ou the other day could express him self so well, if left quite to his own powers, and y et it is not the sty le of a wom an; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a wom an. No doubt he is a sensible m an, and I suppose

m ay have a natural talent for – thinks strongly and clearly – and when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with som e m en. Yes, I understand the sort of m ind. Vigorous, decided, with sentim ents to a certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet (returning it,) than I had expected.”

“Well,” said the still waiting Harriet; – “well – and – and what shall I do?”

“What shall y ou do! In what respect? Do y ou m ean with regard to this letter?”

“Yes.”

“But what are y ou in doubt of? You m ust answer it of course – and speedily.”

“Yes. But what shall I say ? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise m e.”

“Oh no, no! the letter had m uch better be all y our own. You will express y ourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of y our not being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your m eaning m ust be unequivocal; no doubts or dem urs: and such expressions of gratitude and concern for the pain y ou are inflicting as propriety requires, will present them selves unbidden to y our m ind, I am persuaded. You need not be prom pted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his disappointm ent.”

“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down.

“Ought to refuse him ! My dear Harriet, what do y ou m ean? Are y ou in any doubt as to that? I thought – but I beg y our pardon, perhaps I have been under a m istake. I certainly have been m isunderstanding y ou, if y ou feel in doubt as to the purport of y our answer. I had im agined y ou were consulting m e only as to the wording of it.”

Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of m anner, Em m a continued:

“You m ean to return a favourable answer, I collect.”

“No, I do not; that is, I do not m ean – What shall I do? What would y ou advise m e to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell m e what I ought to do.”

“I shall not give y ou any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do with it. This is a point which y ou m ust settle with y our feelings.”

“I had no notion that he liked m e so very m uch,” said Harriet, contem plating the letter. For a little while Em m a persevered in her silence; but

beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that letter m ight be too powerful, she thought it best to say,

“I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a wom an doubts as to whether she should accept a m an or not, she certainly ought to refuse him . If she can hesitate as to ‘Yes,’ she ought to say ‘No’ directly. It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful feelings, with half a heart. I thought it m y duty as a friend, and older than y ourself, to say thus m uch to y ou. But do not im agine that I want to influence y ou.”

“Oh! no, I am sure y ou are a great deal too kind to – but if y ou would j ust advise m e what I had best do – No, no, I do not m ean that – As y ou say, one’s m ind ought to be quite m ade up – One should not be hesitating – It is a very serious thing. – It will be safer to say ‘No,’ perhaps. – Do y ou think I had better say ‘No?’”

“Not for the world,” said Em m a, sm iling graciously, “would I advise y ou either way. You m ust be the best j udge of y our own happiness. If y ou prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if y ou think him the m ost agreeable m an y ou have ever been in com pany with, why should y ou hesitate? You blush, Harriet. –

Does any body else occur to y ou at this m om ent under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive y ourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and com passion. At this m om ent whom are y ou thinking of?”

The sy m ptom s were favourable. – Instead of answering, Harriet turned away confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was still in her hand, it was now m echanically twisted about without regard. Em m a waited the result with im patience, but not without strong hopes. At last, with som e hesitation, Harriet said –

“Miss Woodhouse, as y ou will not give m e y our opinion, I m ust do as well as I can by m y self; and I have now quite determ ined, and really alm ost m ade up m y m ind – to refuse Mr. Martin. Do y ou think I am right?”

“Perfectly, perfectly right, m y dearest Harriet; y ou are doing j ust what y ou ought. While y ou were at all in suspense I kept m y feelings to m y self, but now that y ou are so com pletely decided I have no hesitation in approving. Dear Harriet, I give m y self j oy of this. It would have grieved m e to lose y our acquaintance, which m ust have been the consequence of y our m arry ing Mr.

Martin. While y ou were in the sm allest degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not influence; but it would have been the loss of a friend to m e. I could not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey -Mill Farm . Now I am secure of y ou for ever.”

Harriet had not surm ised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her forcibly.

“You could not have visited m e!” she cried, looking aghast. “No, to be sure y ou could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have been too dreadful! – What an escape! – Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not give up the pleasure and honour of being intim ate with y ou for any thing in the world.”

“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose y ou; but it m ust have been. You would have thrown y ourself out of all good society. I m ust have given y ou up.”

“Dear m e! – How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed m e never to com e to Hartfield any m ore!”

“Dear affectionate creature! – You banished to Abbey -Mill Farm ! –

You confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all y our life! I wonder how the y oung m an could have the assurance to ask it. He m ust have a pretty good opinion of him self.”

“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured, and I shall alway s feel m uch obliged to him , and have a great regard for – but that is quite a different thing from – and y ou know, though he m ay like m e, it does not follow that I should – and certainly I m ust confess that since m y visiting here I have seen people – and if one com es to com pare them , person and m anners, there is no com parison at all, one is so very handsom e and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr. Martin a very am iable y oung m an, and have a great opinion of him ; and his being so m uch attached to m e – and his writing such a letter – but as to leaving y ou, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.”

“Thank y ou, thank y ou, m y own sweet little friend. We will not be parted. A wom an is not to m arry a m an m erely because she is asked, or because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.”

“Oh no; – and it is but a short letter too.”

Em m a felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very true; and it would be a sm all consolation to her, for the clownish m anner which m ight be offending her every hour of the day, to know that her husband could write a good letter.”

“Oh! y es, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be alway s happy with pleasant com panions. I am quite determ ined to refuse him . But how shall I do? What shall I say ?”

Em m a assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and advised its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of her assistance; and though Em m a continued to protest against any assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the form ation of every sentence. The looking over his letter again, in reply ing to it, had such a softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very m uch concerned at the idea of m aking him unhappy, and thought so m uch of what his m other and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that Em m a believed if the y oung m an had com e in her way at that m om ent, he would have been accepted after all.

This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The business was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but Em m a could allow for her am iable regrets, and som etim es relieved them by speaking of her own affection, som etim es by bringing forward the idea of Mr. Elton.

“I shall never be invited to Abbey -Mill again,” was said in rather a sorrowful tone.

“Nor, if y ou were, could I ever bear to part with y ou, m y Harriet. You are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey -Mill.”

“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy but at Hartfield.”

Som e tim e afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very m uch surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would – for Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well m arried, and it is only a linen-draper.”

“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinem ent in the teacher of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy y ou such an opportunity as this of being m arried. Even this conquest would appear valuable in her ey es. As to any thing superior for y ou, I suppose she is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be am ong the tittle-tattle of Highbury y et. Hitherto I fancy y ou and I are the only people to whom his looks and m anners have explained them selves.”

Harriet blushed and sm iled, and said som ething about wondering that people should like her so m uch. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly cheering; but still, after a tim e, she was tender-hearted again towards the rej ected Mr. Martin.

“Now he has got m y letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are all doing – whether his sisters know – if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy too. I hope he will not m ind it so very m uch.”

“Let us think of those am ong our absent friends who are m ore cheerfully em ploy ed,” cried Em m a. “At this m om ent, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing y our picture to his m other and sisters, telling how m uch m ore beautiful is the original, and after being asked for it five or six tim es, allowing them to hear y our nam e, y our own dear nam e.”

“My picture! – But he has left m y picture in Bond-street.”

“Has he so! – Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, m y dear little m odest Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till j ust before he m ounts his horse to-m orrow. It is his com panion all this evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his fam ily, it introduces y ou am ong them , it diffuses through the party those pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm prepossession. How cheerful, how anim ated, how suspicious, how busy their im aginations all are!”