Phew! After Miss Emma Woodhouse is "conveyed" to her home, Hartfield, in the dark snowy night after the dinner party with good friends, she is surrounded by family -- her father, sister, and brother-in-law, Mr. John Knightley. (Mr. & Mrs. John Knightley's children are probably in bed and asleep by that time....)
Emma must conceal her true feelings -- the stressful, vexing situation of everything with Mr. Elton and Harriet Smith being turned upside down, and the stinging knowledge that apparently it was never right-side-up, in the first place.
Oh, the self-recrimination! And Harriet is going to be so hurt...!
[Emma, by Jane Austen. excerpt] ------------ ...The day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party, except herself. -- But her mind had never been in such perturbation; and it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till the usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet reflection.
CHAPTER XVI
The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think and be miserable. -- It was a wretched business indeed! -- Such an overthrow of every thing she had been wishing for! -- Such a development of every thing most unwelcome! -- Such a blow for Harriet! -- that was the worst of all.
Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort or other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and she would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken -- more in error -- more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the effects of her blunders have been confined to herself.
"If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have borne any thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me -- but 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. She had taken up the idea, she supposed, and made everything bend to it.
His manners, however, must have been unmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so misled.
The picture! -- How eager he had been about the picture! -- and the charade! -- and an hundred other circumstances -- how clearly they had seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its "ready wit" -- but then the "soft eyes" -- in fact it suited neither; it was a jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such thick-headed nonsense?
Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners to herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste,
as one proof among others that he had not always lived in the best society,
that with all the gentleness of his address, true elegance was sometimes wanting;
but, till this very day, she had never, for an instant, suspected it to mean any thing but grateful respect to her as Harriet's friend.
To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on the subject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying that those brothers had penetration.
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; and blushed to think how much truer a knowledge of his character had been there shewn than any she had reached herself.
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.
Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton's wanting to pay his addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and his proposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment, and was insulted by his hopes.
He wanted to marry well, and having the arrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she was perfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need be cared for.
There had been no real affection either in his language or manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she could hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice, less allied with real love.
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.
But -- that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry him! -- should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind! -- look down upon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no presumption in addressing her! -- It was most provoking.
Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind.
The very want of such equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that in fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior.
He must know that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family -- and that the Eltons were nobody....
The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what ought to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more.
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