|
Emma
by Jane Austen
VOLUME I
CHAPTER XVII
Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield.
The weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move;
and Mr. Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter
to stay behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole
party set off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny of
poor Isabella;--which poor Isabella, passing her life with those
she doated on, full of their merits, blind to their faults, and
always innocently busy, might have been a model of right feminine
happiness.
The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note from
Mr. Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to
say, with Mr. Elton's best compliments, "that he was proposing
to leave Highbury the following morning in his way to Bath; where,
in compliance with the pressing entreaties of some friends, he had
engaged to spend a few weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility
he was under, from various circumstances of weather and business,
of taking a personal leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities
he should ever retain a grateful sense-- and had Mr. Woodhouse any
commands, should be happy to attend to them."
Emma was most agreeably surprized.--Mr. Elton's absence just at
this time was the very thing to be desired. She admired him for
contriving it, though not able to give him much credit for the manner
in which it was announced. Resentment could not have been more plainly
spoken than in a civility to her father, from which she was so pointedly
excluded. She had not even a share in his opening compliments.--Her
name was not mentioned;-- and there was so striking a change in
all this, and such an ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his
graceful acknowledgments, as she thought, at first, could not escape
her father's suspicion.
It did, however.--Her father was quite taken up with the surprize
of so sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never
get safely to the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his
language. It was a very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh
matter for thought and conversation during the rest of their lonely
evening. Mr. Woodhouse talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits
to persuade them away with all her usual promptitude.
She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had
reason to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was
desirable that she should have as much time as possible for getting
the better of her other complaint before the gentleman's return.
She went to Mrs. Goddard's accordingly the very next day, to undergo
the necessary penance of communication; and a severe one it was.--
She had to destroy all the hopes which she had been so industriously
feeding--to appear in the ungracious character of the one preferred--
and acknowledge herself grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all
her ideas on one subject, all her observations, all her convictions,
all her prophecies for the last six weeks.
The confession completely renewed her first shame--and the sight
of Harriet's tears made her think that she should never be in charity
with herself again.
Harriet bore the intelligence very well--blaming nobody--and in
every thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and
lowly opinion of herself, as must appear with particular advantage
at that moment to her friend.
Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost;
and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed
on Harriet's side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself
as having any thing to complain of. The affection of such a man
as Mr. Elton would have been too great a distinction.-- She never
could have deserved him--and nobody but so partial and kind a friend
as Miss Woodhouse would have thought it possible.
Her tears fell abundantly--but her grief was so truly artless,
that no dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma's eyes--
and she listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart
and understanding--really for the time convinced that Harriet was
the superior creature of the two--and that to resemble her would
be more for her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or
intelligence could do.
It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded
and ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed
of being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the
rest of her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father's
claims, was to promote Harriet's comfort, and endeavour to prove
her own affection in some better method than by match-making. She
got her to Hartfield, and shewed her the most unvarying kindness,
striving to occupy and amuse her, and by books and conversation,to
drive Mr. Elton from her thoughts.
Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done;
and she could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters
in general, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to
Mr. Elton in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at
Harriet's age, and with the entire extinction of all hope, such
a progress might be made towards a state of composure by the time
of Mr. Elton's return, as to allow them all to meet again in the
common routine of acquaintance, without any danger of betraying
sentiments or increasing them.
Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence
of any body equal to him in person or goodness--and did, in truth,
prove herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but
yet it appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against
an inclination of that sort unrequited, that she could not comprehend
its continuing very long in equal force.
If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident
and indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she
could not imagine Harriet's persisting to place her happiness in
the sight or the recollection of him.
Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was
bad for each, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal,
or of effecting any material change of society. They must encounter
each other, and make the best of it.
Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at
Mrs. Goddard's; Mr. Elton being the adoration of all the teachers
and great girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only
that she could have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling
moderation or repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there
must the cure be found if anywhere; and Emma felt that, till she
saw her in the way of cure, there could be no true peace for herself.
|
