CHAPTER IV

Harriet Smith's intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick

and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, and

telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so

did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma had

very early foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect

Mrs. Weston's loss had been important. Her father never went beyond the

shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long

walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs. Weston's marriage

her exercise had been too much confined. She had ventured once alone to

Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet Smith, therefore,

one whom she could summon at any time to a walk, would be a valuable

addition to her privileges. But in every respect, as she saw more of

her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her kind designs.

Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful

disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be

guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself

was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of

appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no

want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected.

Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith's being exactly the

young friend she wanted--exactly the something which her home required.

Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could

never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different

sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was the

object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem. Harriet

would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston there

was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.

Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who

were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell

every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma

was obliged to fancy what she liked--but she could never believe that in

the same situation _she_ should not have discovered the truth. Harriet

had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just what

Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.

Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of

the school in general, formed naturally a great part of the

conversation--and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of

Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied

her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with them,

and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe

the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her

talkativeness--amused by such a picture of another set of beings,

and enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much

exultation of Mrs. Martin's having "_two_ parlours, two very good

parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard's

drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived

five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of

them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch

cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin's saying as she was so fond of it,

it should be called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome

summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to

drink tea:--a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen

people."

For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate

cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings

arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and

daughter, a son and son's wife, who all lived together; but when it

appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was

always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing

something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs.

Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little

friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were not

taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.

With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and

meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin,

and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to

speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening

games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and

obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in order to bring her

some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them, and in

every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his shepherd's son into

the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. She was very fond

of singing. He could sing a little himself. She believed he was very

clever, and understood every thing. He had a very fine flock, and, while

she was with them, he had been bid more for his wool than any body in

the country. She believed every body spoke well of him. His mother and

sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had told her one day (and

there was a blush as she said it,) that it was impossible for any body

to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he married, he

would make a good husband. Not that she _wanted_ him to marry. She was

in no hurry at all.

"Well done, Mrs. Martin!" thought Emma. "You know what you are about."

"And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send

Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose--the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever

seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three

teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with

her."

"Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of

his own business? He does not read?"

"Oh yes!--that is, no--I do not know--but I believe he has read a

good deal--but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the

Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the window

seats--but he reads all _them_ to himself. But sometimes of an evening,

before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of the

Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of

Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of

the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them, but

he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he can."

The next question was--

"What sort of looking man is Mr. Martin?"

"Oh! not handsome--not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at

first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know,

after a time. But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every now and

then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to Kingston.

He has passed you very often."

"That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having

any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot,

is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are

precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do.

A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me;

I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other. But

a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as

much above my notice as in every other he is below it."

"To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed him;

but he knows you very well indeed--I mean by sight."

"I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know,

indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine

his age to be?"

"He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the

23rd just a fortnight and a day's difference--which is very odd."

"Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother is

perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very comfortable as they

are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him, she would probably

repent it. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort of young

woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it might be very

desirable."

"Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!"

"Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry, who are not

born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortune entirely

to make--cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever money he

might come into when his father died, whatever his share of the family

property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his stock, and

so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in

time, it is next to impossible that he should have realised any thing

yet."

"To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no

indoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks

of taking a boy another year."

"I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does

marry;--I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife--for though his

sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected

to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit for you

to notice. The misfortune of your birth ought to make you particularly

careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a

gentleman's daughter, and you must support your claim to that station by

every thing within your own power, or there will be plenty of people who

would take pleasure in degrading you."

"Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield,

and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any

body can do."

"You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I would

have you so firmly established in good society, as to be independent

even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you permanently

well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to have as few odd

acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if you should still

be in this country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you may not be drawn

in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife,

who will probably be some mere farmer's daughter, without education."

"To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body

but what had had some education--and been very well brought up. However,

I do not mean to set up my opinion against yours--and I am sure I shall

not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a great

regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very

sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But

if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not

visit her, if I can help it."

Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no

alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, but

she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no serious

difficulty, on Harriet's side, to oppose any friendly arrangement of her

own.

They met Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the

Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at

her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was

not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few

yards forward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye

sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very

neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no

other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen,

she thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet's

inclination. Harriet was not insensible of manner; she had voluntarily

noticed her father's gentleness with admiration as well as wonder. Mr.

Martin looked as if he did not know what manner was.

They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must not be

kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smiling face,

and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to

compose.

"Only think of our happening to meet him!--How very odd! It was quite

a chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not

think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls

most days. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet.

He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it,

but he goes again to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet! Well,

Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him?

Do you think him so very plain?"

"He is very plain, undoubtedly--remarkably plain:--but that is nothing

compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect

much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so

very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a

degree or two nearer gentility."

"To be sure," said Harriet, in a mortified voice, "he is not so genteel

as real gentlemen."

"I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been

repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you

must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At Hartfield,

you have had very good specimens of well educated, well bred men. I

should be surprized if, after seeing them, you could be in company

with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very inferior

creature--and rather wondering at yourself for having ever thought him

at all agreeable before. Do not you begin to feel that now? Were not

you struck? I am sure you must have been struck by his awkward look and

abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly

unmodulated as I stood here."

"Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air and

way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough. But

Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man!"

"Mr. Knightley's air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to

compare Mr. Martin with _him_. You might not see one in a hundred with

_gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the

only gentleman you have been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston

and Mr. Elton? Compare Mr. Martin with either of _them_. Compare their

manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent.

You must see the difference."

"Oh yes!--there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old

man. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty."

"Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a person

grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not

be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or

awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later

age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr.

Weston's time of life?"

"There is no saying, indeed," replied Harriet rather solemnly.

"But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross,

vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of

nothing but profit and loss."

"Will he, indeed? That will be very bad."

"How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the

circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended.

He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing

else--which is just as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to

do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive, and be a very

rich man in time--and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb

_us_."

"I wonder he did not remember the book"--was all Harriet's answer, and

spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might be

safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her

next beginning was,

"In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton's manners are superior to Mr.

Knightley's or Mr. Weston's. They have more gentleness. They might be

more safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness,

almost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in _him_,

because there is so much good-humour with it--but that would not do to

be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley's downright, decided, commanding

sort of manner, though it suits _him_ very well; his figure, and look,

and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to set

about copying him, he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I think

a young man might be very safely recommended to take Mr. Elton as a

model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle.

He seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know

whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either of us,

Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his manners are

softer than they used to be. If he means any thing, it must be to please

you. Did not I tell you what he said of you the other day?"

She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn from Mr.

Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed and smiled, and

said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable.

Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young

farmer out of Harriet's head. She thought it would be an excellent

match; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her

to have much merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body

else must think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any

body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had

entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet's coming to

Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense

of its expediency. Mr. Elton's situation was most suitable, quite the

gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of

any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet.

He had a comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient

income; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known

to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him

as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any

deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world.

She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful

girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, was

foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet's there could be little

doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual

weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a

young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned very

handsome; his person much admired in general, though not by her,

there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense

with:--but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin's riding

about the country to get walnuts for her might very well be conquered by

Mr. Elton's admiration.