about without regard. 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 give myself joy of this. It would have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. I could not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm[41].”
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 any more!”
“My dear! You banished to Abbey-Mill Farm! You confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! The young man must have a pretty good opinion of himself.”
“But he is very good natured,” said Harriet; “and I shall always feel much obliged to him, 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 parted. 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[42]; 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 was obliged 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.”
“Highbury gossips! – Tiresome wretches!”
“I must tell you that I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of something to her advantage,” Mr. Knightley added 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 surprize 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, “it is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. 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 surprized indeed that he should have ventured to address 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 knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and certainly no respectable relations. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too young and too simple to acquire anything herself. At her age she can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and that is all. I remember saying to myself, ‘Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good match.’”
“I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all his merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate friend! She would leave Highbury for the sake of marrying a man whom I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own!”
“She could be married to a respectable, intelligent
Abbey-Mill Farm – ферма Эбби-Милл
Nobody cares for a letter. – Кому какое дело до писем.
