Chapter XV

“One ought to be at Enscom be, and know the way s of the fam ily, before one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to use the sam e caution, perhaps, in j udging of the conduct of any one individual of any one fam ily ; but Enscom be, I believe, certainly m ust not be j udged by general rules: she is so very unreasonable; and every thing gives way to her.”

“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite. Now, according to m y idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be m ost natural, that while she m akes no sacrifice for the com fort of the husband, to whom she owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice towards him , she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom she owes nothing at all.”

“My dearest Em m a, do not pretend, with y our sweet tem per, to understand a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: y ou m ust let it go its own way. I have no doubt of his having, at tim es, considerable influence; but it m ay be perfectly im possible for him to know beforehand when it will be.”

Em m a listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless he com es.”

“He m ay have a great deal of influence on som e points,” continued Mrs. Weston, “and on others, very little: and am ong those, on which she is bey ond his reach, it is but too likely, m ay be this very circum stance of his com ing away from them to visit us.”

CHAPTER XV

Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his tea he was quite ready to go hom e; and it was as m uch as his three com panions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of the hour, before the other gentlem en appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty and convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at last the drawing-room party did receive an augm entation. Mr. Elton, in very good spirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs.

Weston and Em m a were sitting together on a sofa. He j oined them im m ediately, and, with scarcely an invitation, seated him self between them .

Em m a, in good spirits too, from the am usem ent afforded her m ind by the expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late im proprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on his m aking Harriet his very first subj ect, was ready to listen with m ost friendly sm iles.

He professed him self extrem ely anxious about her fair friend – her fair, lovely, am iable friend. “Did she know? – had she heard any thing about her, since their being at Randalls? – he felt m uch anxiety – he m ust confess that the nature of her com plaint alarm ed him considerably.” And in this sty le he talked on for som e tim e very properly, not m uch attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror of a bad sore throat; and Em m a was quite in charity with him .

But at last there seem ed a perverse turn; it seem ed all at once as if he were m ore afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than on Harriet’s –

m ore anxious that she should escape the infection, than that there should be no infection in the com plaint. He began with great earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-cham ber again, for the present – to entreat her to prom ise him not to venture into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and though she tried to laugh it off and bring the subj ect back into its proper course, there was no putting an end to his extrem e solicitude about her. She was vexed. It did appear – there was no concealing it – exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the m ost contem ptible and abom inable! and she had difficulty in behaving with tem per. He turned to Mrs. Weston to im plore her assistance, “Would not she give him her support? – would not she add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss Woodhouse not to go to Mrs. Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss Sm ith’s disorder had no infection? He could not be satisfied without a prom ise – would not she give him her influence in procuring it?”

“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and y et so careless for

herself! She wanted m e to nurse m y cold by stay ing at hom e to-day, and y et will not prom ise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston? – Judge between us. Have not I som e right to com plain? I am sure of y our kind support and aid.”

Em m a saw Mrs. Weston’s surprize, and felt that it m ust be great, at an address which, in words and m anner, was assum ing to him self the right of first interest in her; and as for herself, she was too m uch provoked and offended to have the power of directly say ing any thing to the purpose. She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she thought m ust restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa, rem oving to a seat by her sister, and giving her all her attention.

She had not tim e to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidly did another subj ect succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now cam e into the room from exam ining the weather, and opened on them all with the inform ation of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowing fast, with a strong drifting wind; concluding with these words to Mr. Woodhouse:

“This will prove a spirited beginning of y our winter engagem ents, sir.

Som ething new for y our coachm an and horses to be m aking their way through a storm of snow.”

Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else had som ething to say ; every body was either surprized or not surprized, and had som e question to ask, or som e com fort to offer. Mrs. Weston and Em m a tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his son-in-law, who was pursuing his trium ph rather unfeelingly.

“I adm ired y our resolution very m uch, sir,” said he, “in venturing out in such weather, for of course y ou saw there would be snow very soon. Every body m ust have seen the snow com ing on. I adm ired y our spirit; and I dare say we shall get hom e very well. Another hour or two’s snow can hardly m ake the road im passable; and we are two carriages; if one is blown over in the bleak part of the com m on field there will be the other at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before m idnight.”

Mr. Weston, with trium ph of a different sort, was confessing that he had known it to be snowing som e tim e, but had not said a word, lest it should m ake Mr.

Woodhouse uncom fortable, and be an excuse for his hurry ing away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely to fall to im pede their return, that was a m ere j oke; he was afraid they would find no difficulty. He wished the road m ight be im passable, that he m ight be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utm ost good-will was sure that accom m odation m ight be found for every

body, calling on his wife to agree with him , that with a little contrivance, every body m ight be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the consciousness of there being but two spare room s in the house.

“What is to be done, m y dear Em m a? – what is to be done?” was Mr.

Woodhouse’s first exclam ation, and all that he could say for som e tim e. To her he looked for com fort; and her assurances of safety, her representation of the excellence of the horses, and of Jam es, and of their having so m any friends about them , revived him a little. His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full in her im agination; and fancy ing the road to be now j ust passable for adventurous people, but in a state that adm itted no delay, she was eager to have it settled, that her father and Em m a should rem ain at Randalls, while she and her husband set forward instantly through all the possible accum ulations of drifted snow that m ight im pede them .

“You had better order the carriage directly, m y love,” said she; “I dare say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly ; and if we do com e to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at all afraid. I should not m ind walking half the way. I could change m y shoes, y ou know, the m om ent I got hom e; and it is not the sort of thing that gives m e cold.”

“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, m y dear Isabella, it is the m ost extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing does give y ou cold. Walk hom e! – y ou are prettily shod for walking hom e, I dare say. It will be bad enough for the horses.”

Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs.

Weston could only approve. Isabella then went to Em m a; but Em m a could not so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away ; and they were still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had left the room im m ediately after his brother’s first report of the snow, cam e back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to exam ine, and could answer for there not being the sm allest difficulty in their getting hom e, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour hence. He had gone bey ond the sweep – som e way along the Highbury road – the snow was nowhere above half an inch deep – in m any places hardly enough to whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling at present, but the clouds were parting, and there was every appearance of its being soon over. He had seen the coachm en, and they both agreed with him in there being nothing to apprehend.

To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were

scarcely less acceptable to Em m a on her father’s account, who was im m ediately set as m uch at ease on the subj ect as his nervous constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be appeased so as to adm it of any com fort for him while he continued at Randalls. He was satisfied of there being no present danger in returning hom e, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe to stay ; and while the others were variously urging and recom m ending, Mr.

Knightley and Em m a settled it in a few brief sentences: thus –

“Your father will not be easy ; why do not y ou go?”

“I am ready, if the others are.”

“Shall I ring the bell?”

“Yes, do.”

And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for. A few m inutes m ore, and Em m a hoped to see one troublesom e com panion deposited in his own house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his tem per and happiness when this visit of hardship were over.

The carriage cam e: and Mr. Woodhouse, alway s the first obj ect on such occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr. Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent som e renewal of alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the discovery of a m uch darker night than he had been prepared for. “He was afraid they should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella would not like it. And there would be poor Em m a in the carriage behind. He did not know what they had best do. They m ust keep as m uch together as they could;” and Jam es was talked to, and given a charge to go very slow and wait for the other carriage.

Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally ; so that Em m a found, on being escorted and followed into the second carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them , and that they were to have a tete-a-tete drive. It would not have been the awkwardness of a m om ent, it would have been rather a pleasure, previous to the suspicions of this very day ; she could have talked to him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a m ile would have seem ed but one. But now, she would rather it had not happened. She believed he had been drinking too m uch of Mr. Weston’s good wine, and felt sure that he would want to be talking nonsense.

To restrain him as m uch as m ight be, by her own m anners, she was im m ediately preparing to speak with exquisite calm ness and gravity of the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had they passed the

sweep-gate and j oined the other carriage, than she found her subj ect cut up – her hand seized – her attention dem anded, and Mr. Elton actually m aking violent love to her: availing him self of the precious opportunity, declaring sentim ents which m ust be already well known, hoping – fearing – adoring – ready to die if she refused him ; but flattering him self that his ardent attachm ent and unequalled love and unexam pled passion could not fail of having som e effect, and in short, very m uch resolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible. It really was so.

Without scruple – without apology – without m uch apparent diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was professing him self her lover. She tried to stop him ; but vainly ; he would go on, and say it all. Angry as she was, the thought of the m om ent m ade her resolve to restrain herself when she did speak. She felt that half this folly m ust be drunkenness, and therefore could hope that it m ight belong only to the passing hour. Accordingly, with a m ixture of the serious and the play ful, which she hoped would best suit his half and half state, she replied, “I am very m uch astonished, Mr. Elton. This to m e! y ou forget y ourself

– y ou take m e for m y friend – any m essage to Miss Sm ith I shall be happy to deliver; but no m ore of this to m e, if y ou please.”

“Miss Sm ith! – m essage to Miss Sm ith! – What could she possibly m ean!” – And he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such boastful pretence of am azem ent, that she could not help reply ing with quickness,

“Mr. Elton, this is the m ost extraordinary conduct! and I can account for it only in one way ; y ou are not y ourself, or y ou could not speak either to m e, or of Harriet, in such a m anner. Com m and y ourself enough to say no m ore, and I will endeavour to forget it.”

But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at all to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own m eaning; and having warm ly protested against her suspicion as m ost inj urious, and slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Sm ith as her friend, – but acknowledging his wonder that Miss Sm ith should be m entioned at all, – he resum ed the subj ect of his own passion, and was very urgent for a favourable answer.

As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought m ore of his inconstancy and presum ption; and with fewer struggles for politeness, replied,

“It is im possible for m e to doubt any longer. You have m ade y ourself too clear. Mr. Elton, m y astonishm ent is m uch bey ond any thing I can express.

After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last m onth, to Miss Sm ith –

such attentions as I have been in the daily habit of observing – to be addressing m e in this m anner – this is an unsteadiness of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible! Believe m e, sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the

obj ect of such professions.”

“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the m eaning of this? –

Miss Sm ith! – I never thought of Miss Sm ith in the whole course of m y existence

– never paid her any attentions, but as y our friend: never cared whether she were dead or alive, but as y our friend. If she has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have m isled her, and I am very sorry – extrem ely sorry – But, Miss Sm ith, indeed! – Oh! Miss Woodhouse! who can think of Miss Sm ith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon m y honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of y ou. I protest against having paid the sm allest attention to any one else. Every thing that I have said or done, for m any weeks past, has been with the sole view of m arking m y adoration of y ourself. You cannot really, seriously, doubt it. No! – (in an accent m eant to be insinuating) – I am sure y ou have seen and understood m e.”

It would be im possible to say what Em m a felt, on hearing this – which of all her unpleasant sensations was upperm ost. She was too com pletely overpowered to be im m ediately able to reply : and two m om ents of silence being am ple encouragem ent for Mr. Elton’s sanguine state of m ind, he tried to take her hand again, as he j oy ously exclaim ed –

“Charm ing Miss Woodhouse! allow m e to interpret this interesting silence. It confesses that y ou have long understood m e.”

“No, sir,” cried Em m a, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having long understood y ou, I have been in a m ost com plete error with respect to y our views, till this m om ent. As to m y self, I am very sorry that y ou should have been giving way to any feelings – Nothing could be farther from m y wishes – y our attachm ent to m y friend Harriet – y our pursuit of her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave m e great pleasure, and I have been very earnestly wishing y ou success: but had I supposed that she were not y our attraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought y ou j udged ill in m aking y our visits so frequent. Am I to believe that y ou have never sought to recom m end y ourself particularly to Miss Sm ith? – that y ou have never thought seriously of her?”

“Never, m adam ,” cried he, affronted in his turn: “never, I assure y ou. I think seriously of Miss Sm ith! – Miss Sm ith is a very good sort of girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled. I wish her extrem ely well: and, no doubt, there are m en who m ight not obj ect to – Every body has their level: but as for m y self, I am not, I think, quite so m uch at a loss. I need not so totally despair of an equal alliance, as to be addressing m y self to Miss Sm ith! – No, m adam , m y visits to Hartfield have been for y ourself only ; and the encouragem ent I received

– “

“Encouragem ent! – I give y ou encouragem ent! – Sir, y ou have been entirely m istaken in supposing it. I have seen y ou only as the adm irer of m y friend. In no other light could y ou have been m ore to m e than a com m on acquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry : but it is well that the m istake ends where it does. Had the sam e behaviour continued, Miss Sm ith m ight have been led into a m isconception of y our views; not being aware, probably, any m ore than m y self, of the very great inequality which y ou are so sensible of. But, as it is, the disappointm ent is single, and, I trust, will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of m atrim ony at present.”

He was too angry to say another word; her m anner too decided to invite supplication; and in this state of swelling resentm ent, and m utually deep m ortification, they had to continue together a few m inutes longer, for the fears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If there had not been so m uch anger, there would have been desperate awkwardness; but their straightforward em otions left no room for the little zigzags of em barrassm ent. Without knowing when the carriage turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped, they found them selves, all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out before another sy llable passed. – Em m a then felt it indispensable to wish him a good night. The com plim ent was j ust returned, coldly and proudly ; and, under indescribable irritation of spirits, she was then convey ed to Hartfield.