Chapter XIII

Em m a’s attem pts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her brother-in-law’s breaking out.

“Mr. Perry,” said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, “would do as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he m ake it any business of his, to wonder at what I do? – at m y taking m y fam ily to one part of the coast or another? – I m ay be allowed, I hope, the use of m y j udgm ent as well as Mr.

Perry. – I want his directions no m ore than his drugs.” He paused – and growing cooler in a m om ent, added, with only sarcastic dry ness, “If Mr. Perry can tell m e how to convey a wife and five children a distance of an hundred and thirty m iles with no greater expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as willing to prefer Crom er to South End as he could him self.”

“True, true,” cried Mr. Knightley, with m ost ready interposition – “very true. That’s a consideration indeed. – But John, as to what I was telling y ou of m y idea of m oving the path to Langham , of turning it m ore to the right that it m ay not cut through the hom e m eadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attem pt it, if it were to be the m eans of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if y ou call to m ind exactly the present line of the path.... The only way of proving it, however, will be to turn to our m aps. I shall see y ou at the Abbey to-m orrow m orning I hope, and then we will look them over, and y ou shall give m e y our opinion.”

Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, been attributing m any of his own feelings and expressions; – but the soothing attentions of his daughters gradually rem oved the present evil, and the im m ediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the other, prevented any renewal of it.

CHAPTER XIII

There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. John Knightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every m orning am ong her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over what she had done every evening with her father and sister. She had nothing to wish otherwise, but that the day s did not pass so swiftly. It was a delightful visit; – perfect, in being m uch too short.

In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than their m ornings; but one com plete dinner engagem ent, and out of the house too, there was no avoiding, though at Christm as. Mr. Weston would take no denial; they m ust all dine at Randalls one day ; – even Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of the party.

How they were all to be convey ed, he would have m ade a difficulty if he could, but as his son and daughter’s carriage and horses were actually at Hartfield, he was not able to m ake m ore than a sim ple question on that head; it hardly am ounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Em m a long to convince him that they m ight in one of the carriages find room for Harriet also.

Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were the only persons invited to m eet them ; – the hours were to be early, as well as the num bers few; Mr. Woodhouse’s habits and inclination being consulted in every thing.

The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event that Mr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of Decem ber) had been spent by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone hom e so m uch indisposed with a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed by Mrs. Goddard, Em m a could not have allowed her to leave the house. Em m a called on her the next day, and found her doom already signed with regard to Randalls. She was very feverish and had a bad sore throat: Mrs. Goddard was full of care and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of, and Harriet herself was too ill and low to resist the authority which excluded her from this delightful engagem ent, though she could not speak of her loss without m any tears.

Em m a sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs. Goddard’s unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how m uch Mr. Elton’s would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her at last tolerably com fortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a m ost com fortless visit, and of their all m issing her very m uch. She had not advanced m any y ards from Mrs.

Goddard’s door, when she was m et by Mr. Elton him self, evidently com ing

towards it, and as they walked on slowly together in conversation about the invalid

– of whom he, on the rum our of considerable illness, had been going to inquire, that he m ight carry som e report of her to Hartfield – they were overtaken by Mr.

John Knightley returning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two eldest boy s, whose healthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a country run, and seem ed to ensure a quick despatch of the roast m utton and rice pudding they were hastening hom e for. They j oined com pany and proceeded together. Em m a was j ust describing the nature of her friend’s com plaint; – “a throat very m uch inflam ed, with a great deal of heat about her, a quick, low pulse, & c. and she was sorry to find from Mrs. Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often alarm ed her with them .” Mr. Elton looked all alarm on the occasion, as he exclaim ed,

“A sore-throat! – I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid infectious sort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed y ou should take care of y ourself as well as of y our friend. Let m e entreat y ou to run no risks. Why does not Perry see her?”

Em m a, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard’s experience and care; but as there m ust still rem ain a degree of uneasiness which she could not wish to reason away, which she would rather feed and assist than not, she added soon afterwards – as if quite another subj ect,

“It is so cold, so very cold – and looks and feels so very m uch like snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party, I should really try not to go out to-day – and dissuade m y father from venturing; but as he has m ade up his m ind, and does not seem to feel the cold him self, I do not like to interfere, as I know it would be so great a disappointm ent to Mr. and Mrs. Weston. But, upon m y word, Mr. Elton, in y our case, I should certainly excuse m y self. You appear to m e a little hoarse already, and when y ou consider what dem and of voice and what fatigues to-m orrow will bring, I think it would be no m ore than com m on prudence to stay at hom e and take care of y ourself to-night.”

Mr. Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to m ake; which was exactly the case; for though very m uch gratified by the kind care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her’s, he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit; – but Em m a, too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear him im partially, or see him with clear vision, was very well satisfied with his m uttering acknowledgm ent of its being

“very cold, certainly very cold,” and walked on, rej oicing in having extricated him from Randalls, and secured him the power of sending to inquire after Harriet every hour of the evening.

“You do quite right,” said she; – “we will m ake y our apologies to Mr.

and Mrs. Weston.”

But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton’s only obj ection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with m uch prom pt satisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had his broad handsom e face expressed m ore pleasure than at this m om ent; never had his sm ile been stronger, nor his ey es m ore exulting than when he next looked at her.

“Well,” said she to herself, “this is m ost strange! – After I had got him off so well, to chuse to go into com pany, and leave Harriet ill behind! – Most strange indeed! – But there is, I believe, in m any m en, especially single m en, such an inclination – such a passion for dining out – a dinner engagem ent is so high in the class of their pleasures, their em ploy m ents, their dignities, alm ost their duties, that any thing gives way to it – and this m ust be the case with Mr. Elton; a m ost valuable, am iable, pleasing y oung m an undoubtedly, and very m uch in love with Harriet; but still, he cannot refuse an invitation, he m ust dine out wherever he is asked. What a strange thing love is! he can see ready wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone for her.”

Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them , and she could not but do him the j ustice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentim ent in his m anner of nam ing Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while assuring her that he should call at Mrs. Goddard’s for news of her fair friend, the last thing before he prepared for the happiness of m eeting her again, when he hoped to be able to give a better report; and he sighed and sm iled him self off in a way that left the balance of approbation m uch in his favour.

After a few m inutes of entire silence between them , John Knightley began with –

“I never in m y life saw a m an m ore intent on being agreeable than Mr.

Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With m en he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to please, every feature works.”

“Mr. Elton’s m anners are not perfect,” replied Em m a; “but where there is a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a great deal.

Where a m an does his best with only m oderate powers, he will have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such perfect good-tem per and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but value.”

“Yes,” said Mr. John Knightley presently, with som e sly ness, “he seem s

to have a great deal of good-will towards y ou.”

“Me!” she replied with a sm ile of astonishm ent, “are y ou im agining m e to be Mr. Elton’s obj ect?”

“Such an im agination has crossed m e, I own, Em m a; and if it never occurred to y ou before, y ou m ay as well take it into consideration now.”

“Mr. Elton in love with m e! – What an idea!”

“I do not say it is so; but y ou will do well to consider whether it is so or not, and to regulate y our behaviour accordingly. I think y our m anners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Em m a. You had better look about y ou, and ascertain what y ou do, and what y ou m ean to do.”

“I thank y ou; but I assure y ou y ou are quite m istaken. Mr. Elton and I are very good friends, and nothing m ore;” and she walked on, am using herself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a partial knowledge of circum stances, of the m istakes which people of high pretensions to j udgm ent are for ever falling into; and not very well pleased with her brother for im agining her blind and ignorant, and in want of counsel. He said no m ore.

Mr. Woodhouse had so com pletely m ade up his m ind to the visit, that in spite of the increasing coldness, he seem ed to have no idea of shrinking from it, and set forward at last m ost punctually with his eldest daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness of the weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder of his own going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it was cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was severe; and by the tim e the second carriage was in m otion, a few flakes of snow were finding their way down, and the sky had the appearance of being so overcharged as to want only a m ilder air to produce a very white world in a very short tim e.

Em m a soon saw that her com panion was not in the happiest hum our.

The preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice of his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least, which Mr. John Knightley did not by any m eans like; he anticipated nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in expressing his discontent.

“A m an,” said he, “m ust have a very good opinion of him self when he asks people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as this, for the sake of com ing to see him . He m ust think him self a m ost agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest absurdity – Actually snowing at this m om ent! – The folly of not allowing people to be com fortable at hom e – and the

folly of people’s not stay ing com fortably at hom e when they can! If we were obliged to go out such an evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we should deem it; – and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of the voice of nature, which tells m an, in every thing given to his view or his feelings, to stay at hom e him self, and keep all under shelter that he can; – here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in another m an’s house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said and heard y esterday, and m ay not be said and heard again to-m orrow. Going in dism al weather, to return probably in worse; –

four horses and four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering creatures into colder room s and worse com pany than they m ight have had at hom e.”

Em m a did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to em ulate the “Very true, m y love,”

which m ust have been usually adm inistered by his travelling com panion; but she had resolution enough to refrain from m aking any answer at all. She could not be com ply ing, she dreaded being quarrelsom e; her heroism reached only to silence.

She allowed him to talk, and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening her lips.

They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down, and Mr. Elton, spruce, black, and sm iling, was with them instantly. Em m a thought with pleasure of som e change of subj ect. Mr. Elton was all obligation and cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities indeed, that she began to think he m ust have received a different account of Harriet from what had reached her. She had sent while dressing, and the answer had been, “Much the sam e – not better.”

“My report from Mrs. Goddard’s,” said she presently, “was not so pleasant as I had hoped – ‘Not better’ was m y answer.”

His face lengthened im m ediately ; and his voice was the voice of sentim ent as he answered.

“Oh! no – I am grieved to find – I was on the point of telling y ou that when I called at Mrs. Goddard’s door, which I did the very last thing before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Sm ith was not better, by no m eans better, rather worse. Very m uch grieved and concerned – I had flattered m y self that she m ust be better after such a cordial as I knew had been given her in the m orning.”

Em m a sm iled and answered – “My visit was of use to the nervous part of her com plaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat; it is a m ost severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as y ou probably heard.”

“Yes – I im agined – that is – I did not – “

“He has been used to her in these com plaints, and I hope to-m orrow m orning will bring us both a m ore com fortable report. But it is im possible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party to-day !”

“Dreadful! – Exactly so, indeed. – She will be m issed every m om ent.”

This was very proper; the sigh which accom panied it was really estim able; but it should have lasted longer. Em m a was rather in dism ay when only half a m inute afterwards he began to speak of other things, and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enj oy m ent.

“What an excellent device,” said he, “the use of a sheepskin for carriages. How very com fortable they m ake it; – im possible to feel cold with such precautions. The contrivances of m odern day s indeed have rendered a gentlem an’s carriage perfectly com plete. One is so fenced and guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way unperm itted. Weather becom es absolutely of no consequence. It is a very cold afternoon – but in this carriage we know nothing of the m atter. – Ha! snows a little I see.”

“Yes,” said John Knightley, “and I think we shall have a good deal of it.”

“Christm as weather,” observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and extrem ely fortunate we m ay think ourselves that it did not begin y esterday, and prevent this day ’s party, which it m ight very possibly have done, for Mr.

Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been m uch snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite the season indeed for friendly m eetings. At Christm as every body invites their friends about them , and people think little of even the worst weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a week. Nothing could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not get away till that very day se’nnight.”

Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not com prehend the pleasure, but said only, coolly,

“I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls.”

At another tim e Em m a m ight have been am used, but she was too m uch astonished now at Mr. Elton’s spirits for other feelings. Harriet seem ed quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party.

“We are sure of excellent fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the greatest com fort. Charm ing people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston; – Mrs. Weston indeed is m uch bey ond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so hospitable, and so fond of society ; – it will be a sm all party, but where sm all parties are select, they

are perhaps the m ost agreeable of any. Mr. Weston’s dining-room does not accom m odate m ore than ten com fortably ; and for m y part, I would rather, under such circum stances, fall short by two than exceed by two. I think y ou will agree with m e, (turning with a soft air to Em m a,) I think I shall certainly have y our approbation, though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large parties of London, m ay not quite enter into our feelings.”

“I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir – I never dine with any body.”

“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had been so great a slavery. Well, sir, the tim e m ust com e when y ou will be paid for all this, when y ou will have little labour and great enj oy m ent.”

“My first enj oy m ent,” replied John Knightley, as they passed through the sweep-gate, “will be to find m y self safe at Hartfield again.”