------------- [excerpt, Emma] ----------------- 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.... -------- [end / excerpt]
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Procrastinating on the intended heavy-duty studying, Emma and Harriet start putting together a book of riddles, popular poems, and "charades" -- "Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?" asks Emma during one of Elton's visits to Hartfield. "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."
[excerpt continues] ----- 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. ------ [end / excerpt]
_______________________ Emma, with Harriet, pores over the little verse, and interprets... "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."
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As the two young ladies discuss Mr. Elton's lovely charade, they comment upon how he brought it by even after protesting that he could not come up with anything like that.
"I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining it yesterday," says Emma.
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The two friends -- leader and follower -- continue to spend time together and parts of their conversations always arrange themselves around speculations and daydreams concerning Mr. Elton.
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Then, as Christmastime approaches, Emma doesn't see Harriet as much because her time is full, preparing for guests at Hartfield -- her sister and husband, Mr. John Knightley, and their five children are coming for a visit.
[Mr. Knightley the neighbor who visits Emma and her father at Hartfield, and Mr. John Knightley, husband of Emma's sister Isabella, are brothers. The Mr. Knightley of the neighborhood is named George, but the narrative rarely brings in his first name. So mostly I think of them as
Mr. Knightley (local)
and
Mr. John Knightley (Isabella's husband; Emma's brother-in-law).]
---------------- [excerpt] --------- Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man; rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his private character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being generally pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour.
He was an ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross as to deserve such a reproach; but his temper was not his great perfection; and, indeed, with such a worshipping wife, it was hardly possible that any natural defects in it should not be increased.
The extreme sweetness of her temper must hurt his. He had all the clearness and quickness of mind which she wanted, and he could sometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing.
He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrong in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. -------------- [excerpt ends]
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As days and local mini-events progress toward the holiday, The Woodhouses, Knightleys, Harriet, Mr. Elton, and some others are invited to Randalls, home of Mr. and Mrs. Weston, for a dinner party -- then Harriet catches cold the day before -- Emma visits her; and then, she and her brother-in-law are on their way home when they encounter Mr. Elton.
Emma hints that she realizes Mr. Elton will not want to come to the dinner since he is so disappointed at Harriet's not being able to attend -- but Mr. Elton insists that No, he will be there, after Mr. John Knightley offers him a seat in their carriage for the trip, as snow is predicted.
"Well," thinks Emma to herself, "this is most strange! -- After I had got him off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill behind! -- Most strange indeed!"
Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his manner of naming Harriet at parting...
...and he sighed and smiled himself off in a way that left the balance of approbation much in his favour.
After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley began with --
"I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr. Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to please, every feature works."
"Mr. Elton's manners are not perfect," replied Emma; "but where there is a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a great deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such perfect good-temper and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but value."
"Yes," said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, "he seems to have a great deal of good-will towards you."
"Me!" she replied with a smile of astonishment, "are you imagining me to be Mr. Elton's object?"
"Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration now."
"Mr. Elton in love with me! -- What an idea!"
"I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether it is so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly.
I think your manners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better look about you, and ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do."
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