Emma and the Werewolves (12 page)

“
There is so pointed, and
so particular a meaning in this compliment,” said she, “that I
cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton’s intentions. You are his
object—and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I
thought it must be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but
now, it is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as
my wishes on the subject have been ever since I knew you. Yes,
Harriet, just so long have I been wanting the very circumstance to
happen what has happened. I could never tell whether an attachment
between you and Mr. Elton were most desirable or most natural. Its
probability and its eligibility have really so equalled each other!
I am very happy. I congratulate you, my dear Harriet, with all my
heart. This is an attachment which a woman may well feel pride in
creating. This is a connexion which offers nothing but good. It
will give you every thing that you want—consideration,
independence, a proper home—it will fix you in the centre of all
your real friends, close to Hartfield and to me, and confirm our
intimacy for ever. This, Harriet, is an alliance which can never
raise a blush in either of us.”

“
Dear Miss Woodhouse!” and
“Dear Miss Woodhouse,” was all that Harriet, with many tender
embraces could articulate at first; but when they did arrive at
something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear to her
friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as she
ought. Mr. Elton’s superiority had very ample
acknowledgment.

“
Whatever you say is always
right,” cried Harriet, “and therefore I suppose, and believe, and
hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not have imagined it. It
is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton, who might marry
any body! There cannot be two opinions about him. He is so very
superior. Only think of those sweet verses—” To Miss ————. “Dear
me, how clever! Could it really be meant for me?”

“
I cannot make a question,
or listen to a question about that. It is a certainty. Receive it
on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to the play, a motto to
the chapter; and will be soon followed by matter-of-fact
prose.”

“
It is a sort of thing
which nobody could have expected. I am sure, a month ago, I had no
more idea myself! The strangest things do take place!”

“
When Miss Smiths and Mr.
Eltons get acquainted—they do indeed—and really it is strange; it
is out of the common course that what is so evidently, so palpably
desirable—what courts the pre-arrangement of other people, should
so immediately shape itself into the proper form. You and Mr. Elton
are by situation called together; you belong to one another by
every circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying will be
equal to the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a something
in the air of Hartfield which gives love exactly the right
direction, and sends it into the very channel where it ought to
flow.

The course of true love
never did run smooth—

A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would
have a long note on that passage.”

“
That Mr. Elton should
really be in love with me—me, of all people, who did not know him,
to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very handsomest man
that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to, quite like
Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that every body says he
need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it; that
he has more invitations than there are days in the week. And so
excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he
has ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I
look back to the first time I saw him! How little did I think! The
two Abbots and I ran into the front room and peeped through the
blind when we heard he was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded
us away, and staid to look through herself; however, she called me
back presently, and let me look too, which was very good-natured.
And how beautiful we thought he looked! He was arm-in-arm with Mr.
Cole.”

“
This is an alliance which,
whoever—whatever your friends may be, must be agreeable to them,
provided at least they have common sense; and we are not to be
addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to see you
happily married, here is a man whose amiable character gives every
assurance of it; if they wish to have you settled in the same
country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it
will be accomplished; and if their only object is that you should,
in the common phrase, be well married, here is the comfortable
fortune, the respectable establishment, the rise in the world which
must satisfy them.”

“
Yes, very true. How nicely
you talk; I love to hear you. You understand every thing. You and
Mr. Elton are one as clever as the other. This charade! If I had
studied a twelvemonth, I could never have made any thing like
it.”

“
I thought he meant to try
his skill, by his manner of declining it yesterday.”

“
I do think it is, without
exception, the best charade I ever read.”

“
I never read one more to
the purpose, certainly.”

“
It is as long again as
almost all we have had before.”

“
I do not consider its
length as particularly in its favour. Such things in general cannot
be too short.”

Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear.
The most satisfactory comparisons were rising in her mind.

“
It is one thing,” said
she, presently—her cheeks in a glow— “to have very good sense in a
common way, like every body else, and if there is any thing to say,
to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you must, in a
short way; and another, to write verses and charades like
this.”

Emma could not have desired a more spirited
rejection of Mr. Martin’s prose.

“
Such sweet lines!”
continued Harriet, “these two last! But how shall I ever be able to
return the paper, or say I have found it out? Oh! Miss Woodhouse,
what can we do about that?”

“
Leave it to me. You do
nothing. He will be here this evening, I dare say, and then I will
give it him back, and some nonsense or other will pass between us,
and you shall not be committed. Your soft eyes shall chuse their
own time for beaming. Trust to me.”

“
Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a
pity that I must not write this beautiful charade into my book! I
am sure I have not got one half so good.”

“
Leave out the two last
lines, and there is no reason why you should not write it into your
book.”

“
Oh! but those two lines
are—”

“
The best of all. Granted;
for private enjoyment; and for private enjoyment keep them. They
are not at all the less written you know, because you divide them.
The couplet does not cease to be, nor does its meaning change. But
take it away, and all appropriation ceases, and a very pretty
gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend upon it, he
would not like to have his charade slighted, much better than his
passion. A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or
neither. Give me the book, I will write it down, and then there can
be no possible reflection on you.”

Harriet submitted, though her mind could
hardly separate the parts, so as to feel quite sure that her friend
were not writing down a declaration of love. It seemed too precious
an offering for any degree of publicity.

“
I shall never let that
book go out of my own hands,” said she.

“
Very well,” replied Emma;
“a most natural feeling; and the longer it lasts, the better I
shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you will not object
to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him so much
pleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any thing
that pays woman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of
gallantry towards us all! You must let me read it to
him.”

Harriet looked grave.

“
My dear Harriet, you must
not refine too much upon this charade. You will betray your
feelings improperly, if you are too conscious and too quick, and
appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaning which
may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little
tribute of admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would
not have left the paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it
towards me than towards you. Do not let us be too solemn on the
business. He has encouragement enough to proceed, without our
sighing out our souls over this charade.”

“
Oh! no—I hope I shall not
be ridiculous about it. Do as you please.”

Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to
the subject again, by the recurrence of his very frequent inquiry
of “Well, my dears, how does your book go on? Have you got any
thing fresh?”

“
Yes, papa; we have
something to read you, something quite fresh. A piece of paper was
found on the table this morning—(dropt, we suppose, by a
fairy)—containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied it
in.”

She read it to him, just as
he liked to have any thing read, slowly and distinctly, and two or
three times over, with explanations of every part as she
proceeded—and he was very much pleased, and, as she had foreseen,
especially struck with the complimentary conclusion.

“
Aye, that’s very just,
indeed, that’s very properly said. Very true. ‘Woman, lovely
woman.’ It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I can easily
guess what fairy brought it. Nobody could have written so prettily,
but you, Emma.”

Emma only nodded, and smiled. After a little
thinking, and a very tender sigh, he added,

“
Ah! it is no difficulty to
see who you take after! Your dear mother was so clever at all those
things! If I had but her memory! But I can remember nothing; not
even that particular riddle which you have heard me mention; I can
only recollect the first stanza; and there are several.

Kitty, a fair but frozen maid,

Kindled a flame I yet deplore,

The hood-wink’d boy I called to aid,

Though of his near approach afraid,

So fatal to my suit before.

And that is all that I can
recollect of it—but it is very clever all the way through. But I
think, my dear, you said you had got it.”

“
Yes, papa, it is written
out in our second page. We copied it from the Elegant Extracts. It
was Garrick’s, you know.”

“
Aye, very true. I wish I
could recollect more of it.

Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.

The name makes me think of
poor Isabella; for she was very near being christened Catherine
after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her here next week. Have
you thought, my dear, where you shall put her—and what room there
will be for the children?”

“
Oh! yes—she will have her
own room, of course; the room she always has; and there is the
nursery for the children—just as usual, you know. Why should there
be any change?”

“
I do not know, my dear—but
it is so long since she was here!—not since last Easter, and then
only for a few days. Mr. John Knightley’s being a lawyer is very
inconvenient. Poor Isabella! she is sadly taken away from us all!
and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see Miss Taylor
here!”

“
She will not be surprized,
papa, at least.”

“
I do not know, my dear. I
am sure I was very much surprized when I first heard she was going
to be married.”

“
We must ask Mr. and Mrs.
Weston to dine with us, while Isabella is here.”

“
Yes, my dear, if there is
time. But—(in a very depressed tone)—she is coming for only one
week. There will not be time for any thing.”

“
It is unfortunate that
they cannot stay longer—but it seems a case of necessity. Mr. John
Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and we ought to be
thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time they can
give to the country, that two or three days are not to be taken out
for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises to give up his claim this
Christmas—though you know it is longer since they were with him,
than with us.”

“
It would be very hard,
indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were to be anywhere but at
Hartfield.”

Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr.
Knightley’s claims on his brother, or any body’s claims on
Isabella, except his own. He sat musing a little while, and then
said,

“
But I do not see why poor
Isabella should be obliged to go back so soon, though he does. I
think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to stay longer with us.
She and the children might stay very well.”

“
Ah! papa—that is what you
never have been able to accomplish, and I do not think you ever
will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her husband.”

This was too true for contradiction.
Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse could only give a submissive
sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits affected by the idea of his
daughter’s attachment to her husband, she immediately led to such a
branch of the subject as must raise them.

“
Harriet must give us as
much of her company as she can while my brother and sister are
here. I am sure she will be pleased with the children. We are very
proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder which she will
think the handsomest, Henry or John?”