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Emma
by Jane Austen
VOLUME I
CHAPTER VII
The very day of Mr. Elton's going to London produced a fresh occasion
for Emma's services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield,
as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home
to return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been
talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something
extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half
a minute 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 home, 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 marriage. "Who could have thought it? She was so
surprized she did not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of
marriage; and a very good letter, at least she thought so. And he
wrote as if he really loved her very much--but she did not know--and
so, she was come as fast as she could to ask Miss Woodhouse what
she should do.--" Emma was half-ashamed of her friend for seeming
so pleased and so doubtful.
"Upon my word," she cried, "the young man is determined
not to lose any thing for want of asking. He will connect himself
well if he can."
"Will you read the letter?" cried Harriet. "Pray
do. I'd rather you would."
Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized.
The style of the letter was much above her expectation. There were
not merely no grammatical errors, but as a composition it would
not have disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain, was
strong and unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much
to the credit of the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense,
warm attachment, 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 Emma rather
slowly--"so good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered,
I think one of his sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine
the young man whom I saw talking with you the other day could express
himself so well, if left quite to his own powers, and yet it is
not the style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise;
not diffuse enough for a woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and
I suppose may 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 some men. Yes, I understand the sort of mind.
Vigorous, decided, with sentiments 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 you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard
to this letter?"
"Yes."
"But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course--and
speedily."
"Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise
me."
"Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You
will express yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger
of your not being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning
must be unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of
gratitude and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety
requires, will present themselves unbidden to your mind, I am persuaded.
You need not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow
for his disappointment."
"You think I ought to refuse him then," said Harriet,
looking down.
"Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are
you in any doubt as to that? I thought--but I beg your pardon, perhaps
I have been under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding
you, if you feel in doubt as to the purport of your answer. I had
imagined you were consulting me only as to the wording of it."
Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued:
"You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect."
"No, I do not; that is, I do not mean--What shall I do? What
would you advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what
I ought to do."
"I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing
to do with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings."
"I had no notion that he liked me so very much," said
Harriet, contemplating the letter. For a little while Emma persevered
in her silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery
of that letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say,
"I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman
doubts as to whether she should accept a man 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 my duty
as a friend, and older than yourself, to say thus much to you. But
do not imagine that I want to influence you."
"Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to--but if
you would just advise me what I had best do--No, no, I do not mean
that--As you say, one's mind ought to be quite made up--One should
not be hesitating--It is a very serious thing.--It will be safer
to say `No,' perhaps.--Do you think I had better say `No?'"
"Not for the world," said Emma, smiling graciously, "would
I advise you either way. You must be the best judge of your own
happiness. If you prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you
think him the most agreeable man you have ever been in company with,
why should you hesitate? You blush, Harriet.--Does any body else
occur to you at this moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet,
do not deceive yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and
compassion. At this moment whom are you thinking of?"
The symptoms 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 mechanically twisted about
without regard. Emma waited the result with impatience, but not
without strong hopes. At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said--
"Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must
do as well as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined,
and really almost made up my mind--to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you
think I am right?"
"Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing
just what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my
feelings to myself, but now that you are so completely decided I
have no hesitation in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy
of this. It would have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which
must have been the consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While
you were in the smallest degree wavering, I said nothing about it,
because I would not influence; but it would have been the loss of
a friend to me. I could not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of
Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am secure of you for ever."
Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck
her forcibly.
"You could not have visited me!" she cried, looking aghast.
"No, to be sure you 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
intimate with you for any thing in the world."
"Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose
you; but it must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of
all good society. I must have given you up."
"Dear me!--How should I ever have borne it! It would have
killed me never to come to Hartfield any more!"
"Dear affectionate creature!--You banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!--You
confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life!
I wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He
must have a pretty good opinion of himself."
"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 always feel much obliged to him,
and have a great regard for-- but that is quite a different thing
from--and you know, though he may like me, it does not follow that
I should--and certainly I must confess that since my visiting here
I have seen people--and if one comes to compare them, person and
manners, there is no comparison at all, one is so very handsome
and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr. Martin a very amiable
young man, and have a great opinion of him; and his being so much
attached to me--and his writing such a letter--but as to leaving
you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration."
"Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will
not be parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely 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."
Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a "very
true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish
manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know
that her husband could write a good letter."
"Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to
be always happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined
to refuse him. But how shall I do? That shall I say?"
Emma 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 Emma continued to protest against
any assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation
of every sentence. The looking over his letter again, in replying
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 much concerned at the idea of making him unhappy, and thought
so much of what his mother and sisters would think and say, o anxious
that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if
the young man had come in her way at that moment, 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 Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved
them by speaking of her own affection, sometimes 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 you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my
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."
Some time afterwards it was, "I think Mrs. Goddard would be
very much surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss
Nash would--for Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married,
and it is only a linen-draper."
"One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in
the teacher of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy
you such an opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest
would appear valuable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for
you, I suppose she is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain
person can hardly be among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto
I fancy you and I are the only people to whom his looks and manners
have explained themselves."
Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering
that people should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly
cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again
towards the rejected Mr. Martin.
"Now he has got my 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 mind it
so very much."
"Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more
cheerfully employed," cried Emma. "At this moment, perhaps,
Mr. Elton is shewing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling
how much more beautiful is the original, and after being asked for
it five or six times, allowing them to hear your name, your own
dear name."
"My picture!--But he has left my picture in Bond-street."
"Has he so!--Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear
little modest Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in
Bond-street till just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is
his companion all this evening, his solace, his delight. It opens
his designs to his family, it introduces you among them, it diffuses
through the party those pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager
curiosity and warm prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how
suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!"
Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.
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