Emma and the Werewolves (42 page)

Gratifying, however, and
stimulative as was the letter in the material part, its sentiments,
she yet found, when it was folded up and returned to Mrs. Weston,
that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she could still do
without the writer, and that he must learn to do without her. Her
intentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew more
interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent
consolation and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the
words which clothed it, the “beautiful little friend,” suggested to
her the idea of Harriet’s succeeding her in his affections. Was it
impossible? No. Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in
understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness
of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the
probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour. For
Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.

“
I must not dwell upon it,”
said she. “I must not think of it. I know the danger of indulging
such speculations. But stranger things have happened; and when we
cease to care for each other as we do now, it will be the means of
confirming us in that sort of true disinterested friendship which I
can already look forward to with pleasure.”

It was well to have a
comfort in store on Harriet’s behalf, though it might be wise to
let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that quarter was at
hand. As Frank Churchill’s arrival had succeeded Mr. Elton’s
engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest interest
had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank Churchill’s
disappearance, Mr. Elton’s concerns were assuming the most
irresistible form. His wedding-day was named. He would soon be
among them again; Mr. Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to
talk over the first letter from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his
bride” was in every body’s mouth, and Frank Churchill was
forgotten. Emma grew sick at the sound. She had had three weeks of
happy exemption from Mr. Elton; and Harriet’s mind, she had been
willing to hope, had been lately gaining strength. With Mr.
Weston’s ball in view at least, there had been a great deal of
insensibility to other things; but it was now too evident that she
had not attained such a state of composure as could stand against
the actual approach—new carriage, bell-ringing, and all.

Poor Harriet was in a
flutter of spirits which required all the reasonings and soothings
and attentions of every kind that Emma could give. Emma felt that
she could not do too much for her, that Harriet had a right to all
her ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy work to be for
ever convincing without producing any effect, for ever agreed to,
without being able to make their opinions the same. Harriet
listened submissively, and said “it was very true—it was just as
Miss Woodhouse described—it was not worth while to think about
them—and she would not think about them any longer” but no change
of subject could avail, and the next half-hour saw her as anxious
and restless about the Eltons as before. At last Emma attacked her
on another ground.

“
You’re allowing yourself
to be so occupied and so unhappy about Mr. Elton’s marrying,
Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can make me. You could not
give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into. It was all
my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure you. Deceived
myself, I did very miserably deceive you—and it will be a painful
reflection to me for ever. Do not imagine me in danger of
forgetting it.”

Harriet felt this too much
to utter more than a few words of eager exclamation. Emma
continued, “I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake;
think less, talk less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your
own sake rather, I would wish it to be done, for the sake of what
is more important than my comfort, a habit of self-command in you,
a consideration of what is your duty, an attention to propriety, an
endeavour to avoid the suspicions of others, to save your health
and credit, and restore your tranquillity. These are the motives
which I have been pressing on you. They are very important—and
sorry I am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act upon them.
My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration. I want
you to save yourself from greater pain. Perhaps I may sometimes
have felt that Harriet would not forget what was due—or rather what
would be kind by me.”

This appeal to her affections did more than
all the rest. The idea of wanting gratitude and consideration for
Miss Woodhouse, whom she really loved extremely, made her wretched
for a while, and when the violence of grief was comforted away,
still remained powerful enough to prompt to what was right and
support her in it very tolerably.

“
You, who have been the
best friend I ever had in my life—Want gratitude to you! Nobody is
equal to you! I care for nobody as I do for you! Oh! Miss
Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!”

Such expressions, assisted as they were by
every thing that look and manner could do, made Emma feel that she
had never loved Harriet so well, nor valued her affection so highly
before.

“
There is no charm equal to
tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards to herself. “There is
nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness of heart, with
an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the clearness of head
in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will. It is tenderness
of heart which makes my dear father so generally beloved—which
gives Isabella all her popularity. I have it not—but I know how to
prize and respect it. Harriet is my superior in all the charm and
all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet! I would not change you for
the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female
breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax! Harriet is worth a
hundred such—And for a wife—a sensible man’s wife—it is invaluable.
I mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for
Harriet!”

* * * *

Chapter XIV

M
rs. Elton was first
seen at church:
but though devotion might be interrupted, curiosity could not be
satisfied by a bride in a pew, and it must be left for the visits
in form which were then to be paid, to settle whether she were very
pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or not pretty at all. Emma’s
concern was only for his bride. Everyone deemed it best not to
inquire about the other aspect of his journey. The monster had been
quiet some time now and it was almost as if people thought speaking
of it would reawaken the thing. As thus, Mr. Elton was left alone
and unquestioned in regards to his promise to stop the
beast.

Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of
pride or propriety, to make her resolve on not being the last to
pay her respects; and she made a point of Harriet’s going with her,
that the worst of the business might be gone through as soon as
possible.

She could not enter the house again, could
not be in the same room to which she had with such vain artifice
retreated three months ago, to lace up her boot, without
recollecting. A thousand vexatious thoughts would recur.
Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was not to be
supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too; but she
behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The visit
was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and
occupation of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself
entirely to form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give
one, beyond the nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed,
and very pleasing.”

She did not really like her. She would not
be in a hurry to find fault, but she suspected that there was no
elegance; ease, but not elegance. She was almost sure that for a
young woman, a stranger, a bride, there was too much ease. Her
person was rather good; her face not unpretty; but neither feature,
nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma thought at least
it would turn out so.

As for Mr. Elton, his
manners did not appear—but no, she would not permit a hasty or a
witty word from herself about his manners. It was an awkward
ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a man had
need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman was
better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the
privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense
to depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor
Mr. Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he
had just married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman
whom he had been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the
right to look as little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as
little really easy as could be.

“
Well, Miss Woodhouse,”
said Harriet, when they had quitted the house, and after waiting in
vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss Woodhouse, (with a gentle
sigh,) what do you think of her? Is not she very
charming?”

There was a little hesitation in Emma’s
answer.

“
Oh! yes—very—a very
pleasing young woman.”

“
I think her beautiful,
quite beautiful.”

“
Very nicely dressed,
indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.”

“
I am not at all surprized
that he should have fallen in love.”

“
Oh! no—there is nothing to
surprize one at all. A pretty fortune; and she came in his
way.”

“
I dare say,” returned
Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very much attached to
him.”

“
Perhaps she might; but it
is not every man’s fate to marry the woman who loves him best. Miss
Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought this the best offer she
was likely to have.”

“
Yes,” said Harriet
earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever have a better.
Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss Woodhouse,
I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as
superior as ever; but being married, you know, it is quite a
different thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be
afraid; I can sit and admire him now without any great misery. To
know that he has not thrown himself away, is such a comfort! She
does seem a charming young woman, just what he deserves. Happy
creature! He called her ‘Augusta.’ How delightful!”

When the visit was
returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see more and judge
better. From Harriet’s happening not to be at Hartfield, and her
father’s being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter of an
hour of the lady’s conversation to herself, and could composedly
attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that
Mrs. Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself,
and thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine
and be very superior, but with manners which had been formed in a
bad school, pert and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from
one set of people, and one style of living; that if not foolish she
was ignorant, and that her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no
good.

Harriet would have been a better match. If
not wise or refined herself, she would have connected him with
those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it might be fairly supposed from
her easy conceit, had been the best of her own set. The rich
brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the alliance, and his
place and his carriages were the pride of him.

The very first subject
after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother Mr. Suckling’s
seat;” —a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The grounds of
Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was modern
and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed by the
size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or
imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed! She was quite struck by the
likeness! That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room
at Maple Grove; her sister’s favourite room.” Mr. Elton was
appealed to. “Was not it astonishingly like? She could really
almost fancy herself at Maple Grove.”

“
And the staircase—You
know, as I came in, I observed how very like the staircase was;
placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really could not
help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very
delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely
partial to as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there!
(with a little sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly.
Every body who sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has
been quite a home. Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss
Woodhouse, you will understand how very delightful it is to meet
with any thing at all like what one has left behind. I always say
this is quite one of the evils of matrimony.”

Emma made as slight a reply as she could;
but it was fully sufficient for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be
talking herself.

“
So extremely like Maple
Grove! And it is not merely the house—the grounds, I assure you, as
far as I could observe, are strikingly like. The laurels at Maple
Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand very much in the
same way—just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse of a fine large
tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in mind! My
brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People who
have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing
in the same style.”

Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment.
She had a great idea that people who had extensive grounds
themselves cared very little for the extensive grounds of any body
else; but it was not worth while to attack an error so double-dyed,
and therefore only said in reply,