Chapter VIII

Harriet sm iled again, and her sm iles grew stronger.

CHAPTER VIII

Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For som e weeks past she had been spending m ore than half her tim e there, and gradually getting to have a bed-room appropriated to herself; and Em m a j udged it best in every respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as m uch as possible j ust at present. She was obliged to go the next m orning for an hour or two to Mrs. Goddard’s, but it was then to be settled that she should return to Hartfield, to m ake a regular visit of som e day s.

While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat som e tim e with Mr.

Woodhouse and Em m a, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously m ade up his m ind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of his own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr. Knightley, who had nothing of cerem ony about him , was offering by his short, decided answers, an am using contrast to the protracted apologies and civil hesitations of the other.

“Well, I believe, if y ou will excuse m e, Mr. Knightley, if y ou will not consider m e as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Em m a’s advice and go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had better take m y three turns while I can. I treat y ou without cerem ony, Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.”

“My dear sir, do not m ake a stranger of m e.”

“I leave an excellent substitute in m y daughter. Em m a will be happy to entertain y ou. And therefore I think I will beg y our excuse and take m y three turns – m y winter walk.”

“You cannot do better, sir.”

“I would ask for the pleasure of y our com pany, Mr. Knightley, but I am a very slow walker, and m y pace would be tedious to y ou; and, besides, y ou have another long walk before y ou, to Donwell Abbey.”

“Thank y ou, sir, thank y ou; I am going this m om ent m y self; and I think the sooner y ou go the better. I will fetch y our greatcoat and open the garden door for y ou.”

Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being im m ediately off likewise, sat down again, seem ingly inclined for m ore chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with m ore voluntary praise than Em m a had ever heard before.

“I cannot rate her beauty as y ou do,” said he; “but she is a pretty little

creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good hands she will turn out a valuable wom an.”

“I am glad y ou think so; and the good hands, I hope, m ay not be wanting.”

“Com e,” said he, “y ou are anxious for a com plim ent, so I will tell y ou that y ou have im proved her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s giggle; she really does y ou credit.”

“Thank y ou. I should be m ortified indeed if I did not believe I had been of som e use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where they m ay.

You do not often overpower m e with it.”

“You are expecting her again, y ou say, this m orning?”

“Alm ost every m om ent. She has been gone longer already than she intended.”

“Som ething has happened to delay her; som e visitors perhaps.”

“Highbury gossips! – Tiresom e wretches!”

“Harriet m ay not consider every body tiresom e that y ou would.”

Em m a knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said nothing. He presently added, with a sm ile,

“I do not pretend to fix on tim es or places, but I m ust tell y ou that I have good reason to believe y our little friend will soon hear of som ething to her advantage.”

“Indeed! how so? of what sort?”

“A very serious sort, I assure y ou;” still sm iling.

“Very serious! I can think of but one thing – Who is in love with her?

Who m akes y ou their confidant?”

Em m a was m ore than half in hopes of Mr. Elton’s having dropt a hint.

Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew Mr. Elton looked up to him .

“I have reason to think,” he replied, “that Harriet Sm ith will soon have an offer of m arriage, and from a m ost unexceptionable quarter: – Robert Martin is the m an. Her visit to Abbey -Mill, this sum m er, seem s to have done his business. He is desperately in love and m eans to m arry her.”

“He is very obliging,” said Em m a; “but is he sure that Harriet m eans to m arry him ?”

“Well, well, m eans to m ake her an offer then. Will that do? He cam e to the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult m e about it. He knows I have a thorough regard for him and all his fam ily, and, I believe, considers m e as one of his best friends. He cam e to ask m e whether I thought it would be im prudent in him to settle so early ; whether I thought her too y oung: in short, whether I approved his choice altogether; having som e apprehension perhaps of her being considered (especially since y our m aking so m uch of her) as in a line of society above him . I was very m uch pleased with all that he said. I never hear better sense from any one than Robert Martin. He alway s speaks to the purpose; open, straightforward, and very well j udging. He told m e every thing; his circum stances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in the event of his m arriage. He is an excellent y oung m an, both as son and brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to m arry. He proved to m e 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 altogether sent him away very happy. If he had never esteem ed m y opinion before, he would have thought highly of m e then; and, I dare say, left the house thinking m e the best friend and counsellor m an ever had. This happened the night before last. Now, as we m ay fairly suppose, he would not allow m uch tim e to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not appear to have spoken y esterday, it is not unlikely that he should be at Mrs. Goddard’s to-day ; and she m ay be detained by a visitor, without thinking him at all a tiresom e wretch.”

“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Em m a, who had been sm iling to herself through a great part of this speech, “how do y ou know that Mr. Martin did not speak y esterday ?”

“Certainly,” replied he, surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but it m ay be inferred. Was not she the whole day with y ou?”

“Com e,” said she, “I will tell y ou som ething, in return for what y ou have told m e. He did speak y esterday – that is, he wrote, and was refused.”

This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr. Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he stood up, in tall indignation, and said,

“Then she is a greater sim pleton than I ever believed her. What is the foolish girl about?”

“Oh! to be sure,” cried Em m a, “it is alway s incom prehensible to a m an that a wom an should ever refuse an offer of m arriage. A m an alway s im agines a

wom an to be ready for any body who asks her.”

“Nonsense! a m an does not im agine any such thing. But what is the m eaning of this? Harriet Sm ith refuse Robert Martin? m adness, if it is so; but I hope y ou are m istaken.”

“I saw her answer! – nothing could be clearer.”

“You saw her answer! – y ou wrote her answer too. Em m a, this is y our doing. You persuaded her to refuse him .”

“And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable y oung m an, but I cannot adm it him to be Harriet’s equal; and am rather surprized indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By y our account, he does seem to have had som e scruples. It is a pity that they were ever got over.”

“Not Harriet’s equal!” exclaim ed Mr. Knightley loudly and warm ly ; and with calm er asperity, added, a few m om ents afterwards, “No, he is not her equal indeed, for he is as m uch her superior in sense as in situation. Em m a, y our infatuation about that girl blinds y ou. What are Harriet Sm ith’s claim s, either of birth, nature or education, to any connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of nobody knows whom , with probably no settled provision at all, and certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as parlour-boarder at a com m on school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a girl of any inform ation. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too y oung and too sim ple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tem pered, and that is all. My only scruple in advising the m atch was on his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him . I felt that, as to fortune, in all probability he m ight do m uch better; and that as to a rational com panion or useful helpm ate, he could not do worse. But I could not reason so to a m an in love, and was willing to trust to there being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition, which, in good hands, like his, m ight be easily led aright and turn out very well. The advantage of the m atch I felt to be all on her side; and had not the sm allest doubt (nor have I now) that there would be a general cry -out upon her extrem e good luck. Even y our satisfaction I m ade sure of. It crossed m y m ind im m ediately that y ou would not regret y our friend’s leaving Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I rem em ber say ing to m y self, ‘Even Em m a, with all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good m atch.’”

“I cannot help wondering at y our knowing so little of Em m a as to say any such thing. What! think a farm er, (and with all his sense and all his m erit Mr.

Martin is nothing m ore,) a good m atch for m y intim ate friend! Not regret her

leaving Highbury for the sake of m arry ing a m an whom I could never adm it as an acquaintance of m y own! I wonder y ou should think it possible for m e to have such feelings. I assure y ou m ine are very different. I m ust think y our statem ent by no m eans fair. You are not j ust to Harriet’s claim s. They would be estim ated very differently by others as well as m y self; Mr. Martin m ay be the richest of the two, but he is undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in society. – The sphere in which she m oves is m uch above his. – It would be a degradation.”

“A degradation to illegitim acy and ignorance, to be m arried to a respectable, intelligent gentlem an-farm er!”

“As to the circum stances of her birth, though in a legal sense she m ay be called Nobody, it will not hold in com m on sense. She is not to pay for the offence of others, by being held below the level of those with whom she is brought up. – There can scarcely be a doubt that her father is a gentlem an – and a gentlem an of fortune. – Her allowance is very liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her im provem ent or com fort. – That she is a gentlem an’s daughter, is indubitable to m e; that she associates with gentlem en’s daughters, no one, I apprehend, will deny. – She is superior to Mr. Robert Martin.”

“Whoever m ight be her parents,” said Mr. Knightley, “whoever m ay have had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of their plan to introduce her into what y ou would call good society. After receiving a very indifferent education she is left in Mrs. Goddard’s hands to shift as she can; – to m ove, in short, in Mrs. Goddard’s line, to have Mrs. Goddard’s acquaintance. Her friends evidently thought this good enough for her; and it was good enough. She desired nothing better herself. Till y ou chose to turn her into a friend, her m ind had no distaste for her own set, nor any am bition bey ond it. She was as happy as possible with the Martins in the sum m er. She had no sense of superiority then. If she has it now, y ou have given it. You have been no friend to Harriet Sm ith, Em m a. Robert Martin would never have proceeded so far, if he had not felt persuaded of her not being disinclined to him . I know him well. He has too m uch real feeling to address any wom an on the haphazard of selfish passion. And as to conceit, he is the farthest from it of any m an I know. Depend upon it he had encouragem ent.”

It was m ost convenient to Em m a not to m ake a direct reply to this assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subj ect again.

“You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before, are unj ust to Harriet. Harriet’s claim s to m arry well are not so contem ptible as y ou represent them . She is not a clever girl, but she has better sense than y ou are aware of, and does not deserve to have her understanding spoken of so slightingly.

Waiving that point, however, and supposing her to be, as y ou describe her, only pretty and good-natured, let m e tell y ou, that in the degree she possesses them , they are not trivial recom m endations to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a beautiful girl, and m ust be thought so by ninety -nine people out of an hundred; and till it appears that m en are m uch m ore philosophic on the subj ect of beauty than they are generally supposed; till they do fall in love with well-inform ed m inds instead of handsom e faces, a girl, with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being adm ired and sought after, of having the power of chusing from am ong m any, consequently a claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so very slight a claim , com prehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of tem per and m anner, a very hum ble opinion of herself, and a great readiness to be pleased with other people. I am very m uch m istaken if y our sex in general would not think such beauty, and such tem per, the highest claim s a wom an could possess.”

“Upon m y word, Em m a, to hear y ou abusing the reason y ou have, is alm ost enough to m ake m e think so too. Better be without sense, than m isapply it as y ou do.”

“To be sure!” cried she play fully. “I know that is the feeling of y ou all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every m an delights in – what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his j udgm ent. Oh! Harriet m ay pick and chuse. Were y ou, y ourself, ever to m arry, she is the very wom an for y ou. And is she, at seventeen, j ust entering into life, j ust beginning to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No – pray let her have tim e to look about her.”

“I have alway s thought it a very foolish intim acy,” said Mr. Knightley presently, “though I have kept m y thoughts to m y self; but I now perceive that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will puff her up with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a claim to, that, in a little while, nobody within her reach will be good enough for her. Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of m ischief. Nothing so easy as for a y oung lady to raise her expectations too high. Miss Harriet Sm ith m ay not find offers of m arriage flow in so fast, though she is a very pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever y ou m ay chuse to say, do not want silly wives. Men of fam ily would not be very fond of connecting them selves with a girl of such obscurity – and m ost prudent m en would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they m ight be involved in, when the m y stery of her parentage cam e to be revealed. Let her m arry Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable, and happy for ever; but if y ou encourage her to expect to m arry greatly, and teach her to be satisfied with nothing less than a m an of consequence and large fortune, she m ay be a parlour-boarder at Mrs.

Goddard’s all the rest of her life – or, at least, (for Harriet Sm ith is a girl who will

m arry som ebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and is glad to catch at the old writing-m aster’s son.”

“We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be m aking each other m ore angry. But as to m y letting her m arry Robert Martin, it is im possible; she has refused him , and so decidedly, I think, as m ust prevent any second application. She m ust abide by the evil of having refused him , whatever it m ay be; and as to the refusal itself, I will not pretend to say that I m ight not influence her a little; but I assure y ou there was very little for m e or for any body to do. His appearance is so m uch against him , and his m anner so bad, that if she ever were disposed to favour him , she is not now. I can im agine, that before she had seen any body superior, she m ight tolerate him . He was the brother of her friends, and he took pains to please her; and altogether, having seen nobody better (that m ust have been his great assistant) she m ight not, while she was at Abbey -Mill, find him disagreeable. But the case is altered now. She knows now what gentlem en are; and nothing but a gentlem an in education and m anner has any chance with Harriet.”

“Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” cried Mr. Knightley. –

“Robert Martin’s m anners have sense, sincerity, and good-hum our to recom m end them ; and his m ind has m ore true gentility than Harriet Sm ith could understand.”

Em m a m ade no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was really feeling uncom fortable and wanting him very m uch to be gone. She did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better j udge of such a point of fem ale right and refinem ent than he could be; but y et she had a sort of habitual respect for his j udgm ent in general, which m ade her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him sitting j ust opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable. Som e m inutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attem pt on Em m a’s side to talk of the weather, but he m ade no answer. He was thinking. The result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words.

“Robert Martin has no great loss – if he can but think so; and I hope it will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known to y ourself; but as y ou m ake no secret of y our love of m atch-m aking, it is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and proj ects y ou have; – and as a friend I shall j ust hint to y ou that if Elton is the m an, I think it will be all labour in vain.”

Em m a laughed and disclaim ed. He continued,

“Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of m an, and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to m ake an im prudent m atch. He knows the value of a good incom e as well as any body. Elton m ay talk sentim entally, but he will act rationally. He is as well acquainted with his own

claim s, as y ou can be with Harriet’s. He knows that he is a very handsom e y oung m an, and a great favourite wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved m om ents, when there are only m en present, I am convinced that he does not m ean to throw him self away. I have heard him speak with great anim ation of a large fam ily of y oung ladies that his sisters are intim ate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.”

“I am very m uch obliged to y ou,” said Em m a, laughing again. “If I had set m y heart on Mr. Elton’s m arry ing Harriet, it would have been very kind to open m y ey es; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to m y self. I have done with m atch-m aking indeed. I could never hope to equal m y own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.”

“Good m orning to y ou,” – said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was very m uch vexed. He felt the disappointm ent of the y oung m an, and was m ortified to have been the m eans of prom oting it, by the sanction he had given; and the part which he was persuaded Em m a had taken in the affair, was provoking him exceedingly.

Em m a rem ained in a state of vexation too; but there was m ore indistinctness in the causes of her’s, than in his. She did not alway s feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that her opinions were right and her adversary ’s wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He walked off in m ore com plete self-approbation than he left for her. She was not so m aterially cast down, however, but that a little tim e and the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet’s stay ing away so long was beginning to m ake her uneasy.

The possibility of the y oung m an’s com ing to Mrs. Goddard’s that m orning, and m eeting with Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarm ing ideas. The dread of such a failure after all becam e the prom inent 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 own m ind, and convinced her, that let Mr. Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which wom an’s friendship and wom an’s feelings would not j ustify.

He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she considered that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither with the interest, nor (she m ust 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 spoken it hastily and in anger, she was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished resentfully to be true, than what he knew any thing about. He certainly m ight have heard Mr. Elton speak with m ore unreserve than she had ever done, and Mr. Elton m ight not be of an im prudent, inconsiderate disposition as to m oney m atters; he m ight naturally be rather attentive than otherwise to

them ; but then, Mr. Knightley did not m ake due allowance for the influence of a strong passion at war with all interested m otives. Mr. Knightley saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of its effects; but she saw too m uch of it to feel a doubt of its overcom ing any hesitations that a reasonable prudence m ight originally suggest; and m ore than a reasonable, becom ing degree of prudence, she was very sure did not belong to Mr. Elton.

Harriet’s cheerful look and m anner established hers: she cam e back, not to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been telling her som ething, which she repeated im m ediately with great delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard’s to attend a sick child, and Miss Nash had seen him , and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was com ing back y esterday from Clay ton Park, he had m et Mr. Elton, and found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road to London, and not m eaning to return till the m orrow, though it was the whist-club night, which he had been never known to m iss before; and Mr. Perry had rem onstrated with him about it, and told him how shabby it was in him , their best play er, to absent him self, and tried very m uch to persuade him to put off his j ourney only one day ; but it would not do; Mr. Elton had been determ ined to go on, and had said in a very particular way indeed, that he was going on business which he would not put off for any inducem ent in the world; and som ething about a very enviable com m ission, and being the bearer of som ething exceedingly precious. Mr. Perry could not quite understand him , but he was very sure there m ust be a lady in the case, and he told him so; and Mr. Elton only looked very conscious and sm iling, and rode off in great spirits. Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal m ore about Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her, “that she did not pretend to understand what his business m ight be, but she only knew that any wom an whom Mr. Elton could prefer, she should think the luckiest wom an in the world; for, bey ond a doubt, Mr. Elton had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness.”