Emma
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.”
CHAPTER IX
Mr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with
herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual
before he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave
looks shewed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not
repent. On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more
justified and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next
few days.
The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr.
Elton’s return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common
sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half
sentences of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet’s
feelings, they were visibly forming themselves into as strong and
steady an attachment as her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was
soon perfectly satisfied of Mr. Martin’s being no otherwise remembered,
than as he furnished a contrast with Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage
to the latter.
Her views of improving her little friend’s mind, by a great deal of
useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few
first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much
easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination
range and work at Harriet’s fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge
her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary
pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she
was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing
all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin
quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with
ciphers and trophies.
In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are
not uncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard’s, had written
out at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint
of it from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse’s help, to get a great many
more. Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as
Harriet wrote a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of
the first order, in form as well as quantity.
Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the
girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting
in. “So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young—he
wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time.”
And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.”
His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject, did
not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he had
desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much,
something, he thought, might come from that quarter.
It was by no means his daughter’s wish that the intellects of Highbury
in general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only one
whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really
good enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she
had the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his
recollections; and at the same time, as she could perceive, most
earnestly careful that nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe
a compliment to the sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their
two or three politest puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at
last he recalled, and rather sentimentally recited, that well-known
charade,
My first doth affliction denote,
Which my second is destin’d to feel
And my whole is the best antidote
That affliction to soften and heal.—
made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some
pages ago already.
“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?” said she;
“that is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be
easier to you.”
“Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind in his
life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse”—he
stopt a moment—“or Miss Smith could inspire him.”
The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He called
for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table
containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed
to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his
manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own.
“I do not offer it for Miss Smith’s collection,” said he. “Being my
friend’s, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye,
but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.”
The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could
understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found it
easier to meet her eye than her friend’s. He was gone the next
moment:—after another moment’s pause,
“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards
Harriet—“it is for you. Take your own.”
But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma, never
loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself.
To Miss——
CHARADE.
My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
Another view of man, my second brings,
Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
But ah! united, what reverse we have!
Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown;
Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,
May its approval beam in that soft eye!
She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through
again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then
passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself,
while Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope
and dulness, “Very well, Mr. Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse
charades. _Courtship_—a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This
is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly—‘Pray, Miss Smith,
give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my
intentions in the same glance.’
May its approval beam in that soft eye!
Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye—of all epithets, the
justest that could be given.
Thy ready wit the word will soon supply.
Humph—Harriet’s ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in
love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had the
benefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life
you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade
indeed! and very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon
now.”
She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations,
which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the
eagerness of Harriet’s wondering questions.
“What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?—what can it be? I have not an idea—I
cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to find
it out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is
it kingdom? I wonder who the friend was—and who could be the young
lady. Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman?
And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
Can it be Neptune?
Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one
syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh!
Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?”
“Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you thinking
of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by a
friend upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen.
For Miss ———, read Miss Smith.
My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
That is _court_.
Another view of man, my second brings;
Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
That is _ship_;—plain as it can be.—Now for the cream.
But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have!
Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown.
Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
A very proper compliment!—and then follows the application, which I
think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in
comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of
its being written for you and to you.”
Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read the
concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness. She could not
speak. But she was not wanted to speak. It was enough for her to feel.
Emma spoke for her.