Emma

Chapter 8-2

It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to

this assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the

subject again.

"You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said

before, are unjust to Harriet. Harriet's claims to marry well are

not so contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever

girl, but she has better sense than you are aware of, and does not

deserve to have her understanding spoken of so slightingly. Waiving

that point, however, and supposing her to be, as you describe her,

only pretty and good-natured, let me tell you, that in the degree

she possesses them, they are not trivial recommendations to the

world in general, for she is, in fact, a beautiful girl, and must

be thought so by ninety-nine people out of an hundred; and till it

appears that men are much more philosophic on the subject of beauty

than they are generally supposed; till they do fall in love with

well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with such

loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought

after, of having the power of chusing from among many, consequently

a claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so very slight a

claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of

temper and manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great

readiness to be pleased with other people. I am very much mistaken

if your s*x in general would not think such beauty, and such

temper, the highest claims a woman could possess."

"Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is

almost enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense,

than misapply it as you do."

"To be sure!" cried she playfully. "I know that is the feeling

of you all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what

every man delights in—what at once bewitches his senses and

satisfies his judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you,

yourself, ever to marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she,

at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning to be known,

to be wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she

receives? No—pray let her have time to look about her."

"I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy," said Mr.

Knightley presently, "though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but

I now perceive that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet.

You will puff her up with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what

she has a claim to, that, in a little while, nobody within her

reach will be good enough for her. Vanity working on a weak head,

produces every sort of mischief. Nothing so easy as for a young

lady to raise her expectations too high. Miss Harriet Smith may not

find offers of marriage flow in so fast, though she is a very

pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever you may chuse to say, do not

want silly wives. Men of family would not be very fond of

connecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity—and most

prudent men would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they

might be involved in, when the mystery of her parentage came to be

revealed. Let her marry Robert Martin, and she is safe,

respectable, and happy for ever; but if you encourage her to expect

to marry greatly, and teach her to be satisfied with nothing less

than a man of consequence and large fortune, she may be a

parlour-boarder at Mrs. Goddard's all the rest of her life—or, at

least, (for Harriet Smith is a girl who will marry somebody or

other,) till she grow desperate, and is glad to catch at the old

writing-master's son."

"We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that

there can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each

other more angry. But as to my letting her marry Robert Martin, it

is impossible; she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as

must prevent any second application. She must abide by the evil of

having refused him, whatever it may be; and as to the refusal

itself, I will not pretend to say that I might not influence her a

little; but I assure you there was very little for me or for any

body to do. His appearance is so much against him, and his manner

so bad, that if she ever were disposed to favour him, she is not

now. I can imagine, that before she had seen any body superior, she

might tolerate him. He was the brother of her friends, and he took

pains to please her; and altogether, having seen nobody better

(that must have been his great assistant) she might not, while she

was at Abbey-Mill, find him disagreeable. But the case is altered

now. She knows now what gentlemen are; and nothing but a gentleman

in education and manner has any chance with Harriet."

"Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!" cried Mr.

Knightley.—"Robert Martin's manners have sense, sincerity, and

good-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility

than Harriet Smith could understand."

Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned,

but was really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to

be gone. She did not repent what she had done; she still thought

herself a better judge of such a point of female right and

refinement than he could be; but yet she had a sort of habitual

respect for his judgment in general, which made her dislike having

it so loudly against her; and to have him sitting just opposite to

her in angry state, was very disagreeable. Some minutes passed in

this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt on Emma's side to

talk of the weather, but he made no answer. He was thinking. The

result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words.

"Robert Martin has no great loss—if he can but think so; and I

hope it will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are

best known to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love of

match-making, it is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and

projects you have;—and as a friend I shall just hint to you that if

Elton is the man, I think it will be all labour in vain."

Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued,

"Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of

man, and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all

likely to make an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good

income as well as any body. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he

will act rationally. He is as well acquainted with his own claims,

as you can be with Harriet's. He knows that he is a very handsome

young man, and a great favourite wherever he goes; and from his

general way of talking in unreserved moments, when there are only

men present, I am convinced that he does not mean to throw himself

away. I have heard him speak with great animation of a large family

of young ladies that his sisters are intimate with, who have all

twenty thousand pounds apiece."

"I am very much obliged to you," said Emma, laughing again. "If

I had set my heart on Mr. Elton's marrying Harriet, it would have

been very kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep

Harriet to myself. I have done with match-making indeed. I could

never hope to equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off

while I am well."

"Good morning to you,"—said he, rising and walking off abruptly.

He was very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young

man, and was mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by

the sanction he had given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma

had taken in the affair, was provoking him exceedingly.

Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more

indistinctness in the causes of her's, than in his. She did not

always feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely

convinced that her opinions were right and her adversary's wrong,

as Mr. Knightley. He walked off in more complete self-approbation

than he left for her. She was not so materially cast down, however,

but that a little time and the return of Harriet were very adequate

restoratives. Harriet's staying away so long was beginning to make

her uneasy. The possibility of the young man's coming to Mrs.

Goddard's that morning, and meeting with Harriet and pleading his

own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread of such a failure after

all became the prominent uneasiness; and when Harriet appeared, and

in very good spirits, and without having any such reason to give

for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which settled her

with her own mind, and convinced her, that let Mr. Knightley think

or say what he would, she had done nothing which woman's friendship

and woman's feelings would not justify.

He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she

considered that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she

had done, neither with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to

tell herself, in spite of Mr. Knightley's pretensions) with the

skill of such an observer on such a question as herself, that he

had spoken it hastily and in anger, she was able to believe, that

he had rather said what he wished resentfully to be true, than what

he knew any thing about. He certainly might have heard Mr. Elton

speak with more unreserve than she had ever done, and Mr. Elton

might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to money

matters; he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise to

them; but then, Mr. Knightley did not make due allowance for the

influence of a strong passion at war with all interested motives.

Mr. Knightley saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of

its effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt of its

overcoming any hesitations that a reasonable prudence might

originally suggest; and more than a reasonable, becoming degree of

prudence, she was very sure did not belong to Mr. Elton.

Harriet's cheerful look and manner established hers: she came

back, not to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss

Nash had been telling her something, which she repeated immediately

with great delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard's to attend

a sick child, and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss

Nash, that as he was coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he

had met Mr. Elton, and found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton

was actually on his road to London, and not meaning to return till

the morrow, though it was the whist-club night, which he had been

never known to miss before; and Mr. Perry had remonstrated with him

about it, and told him how shabby it was in him, their best player,

to absent himself, and tried very much to persuade him to put off

his journey only one day; but it would not do; Mr. Elton had been

determined to go on, and had said in a very particular way indeed,

that he was going on business which he would not put off for any

inducement in the world; and something about a very enviable

commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly precious.

Mr. Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very sure

there must be a lady in the case, and he told him so; and Mr. Elton

only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great

spirits. Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great

deal more about Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly

at her, "that she did not pretend to understand what his business

might be, but she only knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could

prefer, she should think the luckiest woman in the world; for,

beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton had not his equal for beauty or

agreeableness."