“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down.
“Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any doubt as to that? I thought-but I beg your pardon, perhaps I have been under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you. I had imagined you were consulting me only as to the wording of it[39].”
Harriet was silent. Emma continued:
“You want to marry him. Am I right?”
“No, I do not; that is, I do not mean-What shall I do? What would you advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I ought to do.”
“I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do with it.”
“I did not think that he liked me so very much,” said Harriet, contemplating the letter.
Emma said,
“I am sure, Harriet, that if a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. If she can hesitate as to 'Yes,' she ought to say 'No' directly. I thought it my duty as a friend, and older than yourself, to say this to you. But I do not want to influence you.”
“Oh! no, I am sure you are very kind to me-but if you would… It is a very serious thing. It will be safer to say 'No,' perhaps. Do you think I had better say 'No?'”
“Dear Harriet,” said Emma, smiling graciously, “you must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you hesitate? You blush, Harriet. Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive yourself. At this moment whom are you thinking of?”
Instead of answering, Harriet turned away confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about without a thought. Emma waited the result with impatience. At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said-
“Miss Woodhouse, I have now quite determined, and really almost made up my mind-to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?”
“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just what you ought. Dear Harriet, I am so glad. It would have grieved me to say goodbye to you, which must have been the consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. I could not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm[40].”
The idea of it struck Harriet forcibly.
“You could not have visited me!” she cried. “No, to be sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have been too dreadful! – What an escape! – Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for anything in the world.”
“Indeed, Harriet, you would have thrown yourself out of all good society.”
“Dear me! It would have killed me never to come to Hartfield again! I shall always feel much obliged to Mr. Martin, and have a great regard for-but that is quite a different thing from-and you know, though he may like me, it does not follow that I should-and if one comes to compare them, there is no comparison at all, one is so very handsome and agreeable… However, I do really think Mr. Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him.”
“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be separated. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.”
“Oh no; and it is but a short letter too.”
Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass.
“Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter[41]; the thing is, to be always happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. But how shall I do? What shall I say?”
Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and advised to write it directly. This letter was written, and sealed, and sent. The business was finished, and Harriet safe.
“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” said Harriet in a sorrowful tone.
Chapter VIII
Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. She had been spending more than half her time there, and Emma judged it best in every respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible just at present. She had to go the next morning for an hour or two to Mrs. Goddard's, but it was then to be settled that she should return to Hartfield.
While she was gone, Mr. Knightley came, and sat some time with Emma. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.
“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he; “but she is a pretty little creature. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman.”
“I am glad you think so.”
“You are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl's giggle. You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?”
“Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she intended.”
“Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps. I must tell you that I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of something to her advantage,” Mr. Knightley said with a smile.
“Indeed! how so? of what sort?”
“A very serious sort, I assure you;” still smiling.
“Very serious! I can think of but one thing-Who is in love with her?
“I have reason to think, that Harriet Smith will soon have an offer of marriage, Robert Martin is the man. He is desperately in love and means to marry her.”
“Is he sure,” said Emma; “that Harriet means to marry him?”
“Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Robert Martin came to the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He came to ask me whether I approved his choice. I was very much pleased with all that he said. He told me everything; his circumstances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in the event of his marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son and brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to marry.”
“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, who had been smiling to herself through a great part of this speech, “he wrote a letter, and was refused.”
Mr. Knightley looked red with surprise and displeasure. He stood up and said,
“Then she is more stupid than I ever believed her. What does the foolish girl think about?”
“Oh!” cried Emma, “A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her.”
“Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the meaning of this? Harriet Smith refused Robert Martin? Madness, if it is so; but I hope you are mistaken.”
“I saw her answer! – nothing could be clearer.”
“You saw her answer! – you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.”
“And if I did, I should not feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am rather surprised indeed that he should have had enough courage to ask her.”
“Not Harriet's equal!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are Harriet Smith's claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of nobody