Chapter XV

Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his tea he was quite ready to go home. Mr. Weston was chatty and convivial. Mrs. Weston and Emma were sitting together on a sofa. Mr. Elton joined them immediately, and, with scarcely an invitation, seated himself between them.

Emma, in good spirits, from the amusement afforded her mind by the expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late improprieties. Mr. Elton was extremely anxious about her fair friend. “Did she know? – had she heard anything about Harriet, since their being at Randalls? – he felt much anxiety. But he began with great earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber again. She was vexed. It did appear – there was no concealing it – exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the most contemptible and abominable! And she had difficulty in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs. Weston, “Would not she give him her support? Would she induce Miss Woodhouse not to go to Mrs. Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss Smith’s disorder had no infection?”

“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and yet so careless for herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home today, and yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching a sore throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston? I am sure of your kind support and aid.”

Emma could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she thought must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa.

Mr. John Knightley now came into the room from examining the weather, and said that the ground was covered with snow. Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent; but everybody else had something to say; everybody was either surprized or not surprized, and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston and Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his son-in-law.

“What is to be done, my dear Emma? What is to be done?” was Mr. Woodhouse’s first exclamation, and all that he could say for some time. His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full in her imagination.

“You had better order the carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I dare say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; I can get out and walk. I am not at all afraid. I should not mind walking half the way. I could change my shoes, you know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing that gives me cold.”

“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general everything does give you cold. Walk home!”

Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs. Weston could only approve. Mr. Knightley, who had left the room immediately after his brother’s first report of the snow, came back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to examine, and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty in their getting home, whenever they liked it. Mr. Knightley told Emma,

“Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?”

“I am ready, if the others are.”

“Shall I ring the bell?”

“Yes, do.”

And the bell was rung. The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on such occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr. Weston. Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally; so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be shut on them, and that they were to have a tete-a-tete drive. She believed he had been drinking too much of Mr. Weston’s good wine, and felt sure that he would want to be talking nonsense.

She was immediately preparing to speak of the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had they joined the other carriage, than Mr. Elton seized her hand and demanded her attention. Without scruple – without apology – without much apparent diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was began to talk about his love. She tried to stop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say it all.

“I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. You forget yourself – you take me for my friend – any message to Miss Smith I shall be happy to deliver; but no more of this to me, if you please.”

“Miss Smith! Message to Miss Smith! What could she possibly mean!”

“Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! And I can account for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it.”

But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits.

“It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourself too clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond anything I can express. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last month, to Miss Smith – such attentions as I have been in the daily habit of observing – to be addressing me in this manner – this is an unsteadiness of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible!”

“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the meaning of this? Miss Smith! I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my existence – never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very sorry – extremely sorry. But, Miss Smith, indeed! Oh! Miss Woodhouse! Who can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of you. I protest against having paid the smallest attention to anyone else. Everything that I have said or done, for many weeks past, has been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself. You cannot really, seriously, doubt it. No! I am sure you have seen and understood me.”

It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this. She was too completely overpowered to be immediately able to reply, and Mr. Elton tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed,

“Charming Miss Woodhouse! Allow me to interpret this interesting silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.”

“No, sir,” cried Emma, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having long understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect to your views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you should have been giving way to any feelings. Have you never thought seriously of Miss Smith?”

“Never, madam,” cried he: “never, I assure you. I think seriously of Miss Smith! Miss Smith is a very good girl; and I wish her extremely well: and, no doubt, there are men who might not object to – Everybody has their level: but as for myself, I am not, I think. No, madam, my visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only; and the encouragement I received – ”

“Encouragement! – I give you encouragement! – Sir, you have been entirely mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of my friend. You have been to me a common acquaintance. I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.”

He was too angry to say another word. The carriage turned into Vicarage Lane, when it stopped, they found themselves, all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out. Emma wished him a good night. The compliment was just returned, coldly and proudly; and she was then conveyed to Hartfield.

Chapter XVI

The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think. Such an overthrow of everything she had been wishing for! Such a development of everything most unwelcome! Such a blow for Harriet! That was the worst of all.

“If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking this man, I could have borne anything. Poor Harriet!”

How she could have been so deceived! He protested that he had never thought seriously of Harriet – never! She looked back as well as she could; but it was all confusion.

The picture! How eager he had been about the picture! And hundred other circumstances; how clearly they had seemed to point at Harriet.

She remembered what Mr. Knightley had once said to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given, the conviction he had professed that Mr. Elton would never marry indiscreetly. It was dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many respects, the very reverse of what she had meant and believed him; proud, assuming, conceited; very full of his own claims, and little concerned about the feelings of others.

She thought nothing of his attachment, and was insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and pretended to be in love. There had been no real affection either in his language or manners. She need not trouble herself to pity him. He only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody else with twenty, or with ten.

The first error and the worst was hers. It was foolish, it was wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It means assuming too much. She was quite concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more.

“Poor Harriet!” said she, “She might never have thought of him but for me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I used to think him. Oh! I had been satisfied with persuading her not to accept young Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done of me; but there I should have stopped. I was introducing her into good company; I ought not to have attempted more. But I have not an idea of anybody else who would be at all desirable for her. William Coxe?Oh! no, I could not endure William Coxe – a pert young lawyer.”

She stopped to blush and laugh. The distressing explanation she had to make to Harriet, and all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the awkwardness of future meetings, the difficulties of continuing or discontinuing the acquaintance, were enough to occupy her, and she went to bed at last.