Emma

Chapter 8-1

Chapter 8

Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she

had been spending more than half her time there, and gradually

getting to have a bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged

it best in every respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them

as much as possible just at present. She was obliged to go the next

morning for an hour or two to Mrs. Goddard's, but it was then to be

settled that she should return to Hartfield, to make a regular

visit of some days.

While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with

Mr. Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made

up his mind 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 ceremony about him, was

offering by his short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to the

protracted apologies and civil hesitations of the other.

"Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you

will not consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take

Emma's advice and go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is

out, I believe I had better take my three turns while I can. I

treat you without ceremony, Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are

privileged people."

"My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me."

"I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be

happy to entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your

excuse and take my three turns—my winter walk."

"You cannot do better, sir."

"I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley,

but I am a very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you;

and, besides, you have another long walk before you, to Donwell

Abbey."

"Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I

think the sooner you go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and

open the garden door for you."

Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of

being immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined

for more chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her

with more voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.

"I cannot rate her beauty as you 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 woman."

"I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be

wanting."

"Come," said he, "you are anxious for a compliment, so I will

tell you that you have improved her. You have cured her of her

school-girl's giggle; she really does you credit."

"Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I

had been of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow

praise where they may. You do not often overpower me with it."

"You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?"

"Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she

intended."

"Something has happened to delay her; some visitors

perhaps."

"Highbury gossips!—Tiresome wretches!"

"Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you

would."

Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore

said nothing. He presently added, with a smile,

"I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you

that I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon

hear of something to her advantage."

"Indeed! how so? of what sort?"

"A very serious sort, I assure you;" still smiling.

"Very serious! I can think of but one thing—Who is in love with

her? Who makes you their confidant?"

Emma was more 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 Smith will

soon have an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable

quarter:—Robert Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this

summer, seems to have done his business. He is desperately in love

and means to marry her."

"He is very obliging," said Emma; "but is he sure that Harriet

means to marry him?"

"Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He

came to the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about

it. He knows I have a thorough regard for him and all his family,

and, I believe, considers me as one of his best friends. He came to

ask me whether I thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so

early; whether I thought her too young: in short, whether I

approved his choice altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of

her being considered (especially since your making so much of her)

as in a line of society above him. I was very much pleased with all

that he said. I never hear better sense from any one than Robert

Martin. He always speaks to the purpose; open, straightforward, and

very well judging. He told me every thing; his circumstances and

plans, and what they all proposed doing in the event of his

marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son and brother. I

had no hesitation in advising him to marry. He proved to me 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 esteemed my opinion before, he

would have thought highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the

house thinking me the best friend and counsellor man ever had. This

happened the night before last. Now, as we may fairly suppose, he

would not allow much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and

as he does not appear to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely

that he should be at Mrs. Goddard's to-day; and she may be detained

by a visitor, without thinking him at all a tiresome wretch."

"Pray, Mr. Knightley," said Emma, who had been smiling to

herself through a great part of this speech, "how do you know that

Mr. Martin did not speak yesterday?"

"Certainly," replied he, surprized, "I do not absolutely know

it; but it may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with

you?"

"Come," said she, "I will tell you something, in return for what

you have told me. He did speak yesterday—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 simpleton than I ever believed her. What

is the foolish girl about?"

"Oh! to be sure," cried Emma, "it is always incomprehensible to

a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man

always imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her."

"Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is

the meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness,

if it is so; but I hope you are mistaken."

"I saw her answer!—nothing could be clearer."

"You saw her answer!—you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is

your 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

young man, but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am

rather surprized indeed that he should have ventured to address

her. By your account, he does seem to have had some scruples. It is

a pity that they were ever got over."

"Not Harriet's equal!" exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and

warmly; and with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards,

"No, he is not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in

sense as in situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl

blinds you. What are Harriet Smith's claims, 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 common school. She is not

a sensible girl, nor a girl of any information. She has been taught

nothing useful, and is too young and too simple 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 tempered, and that is all. My

only scruple in advising the match 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 might do much better; and that as

to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse.

But I could not reason so to a man 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, might be easily led

aright and turn out very well. The advantage of the match I felt to

be all on her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now)

that there would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck.

Even your satisfaction I made sure of. It crossed my mind

immediately that you would not regret your friend's leaving

Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I remember

saying to myself, `Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet,

will think this a good match.'"

"I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to

say any such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense

and all his merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my

intimate friend! Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of

marrying a man whom I could never admit as an acquaintance of my

own! I wonder you should think it possible for me to have such

feelings. I assure you mine are very different. I must think your

statement by no means fair. You are not just to Harriet's claims.

They would be estimated very differently by others as well as

myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest of the two, but he is

undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in society.—The sphere in which

she moves is much above his.—It would be a degradation."

"A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a

respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!"

"As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense

she may be called Nobody, it will not hold in common 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 gentleman—and a gentleman of fortune.—Her

allowance is very liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her

improvement or comfort.—That she is a gentleman's daughter, is

indubitable to me; that she associates with gentlemen's daughters,

no one, I apprehend, will deny.—She is superior to Mr. Robert

Martin."

"Whoever might be her parents," said Mr. Knightley, "whoever may

have had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any

part of their plan to introduce her into what you would call good

society. After receiving a very indifferent education she is left

in Mrs. Goddard's hands to shift as she can;—to move, 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 you chose to turn

her into a friend, her mind had no distaste for her own set, nor

any ambition beyond it. She was as happy as possible with the

Martins in the summer. She had no sense of superiority then. If she

has it now, you have given it. You have been no friend to Harriet

Smith, Emma. 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 much real feeling to address any woman on the

haphazard of selfish passion. And as to conceit, he is the farthest

from it of any man I know. Depend upon it he had

encouragement."