Эмма / Emma. Джейн Остин

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      “By all means[37]. We shall be most happy to consider you as one of the party.”

      The whole progress of the picture was rapid and happy. Everybody who saw it was pleased.

      “Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she wanted,” observed Mrs. Weston. “The expression of the eye is most correct, but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of her face that she has them not.”

      “Do you think so?” replied Mr. Elton. “I cannot agree with you. It appears to me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a likeness in my life, you know.”

      “You have made her too tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley.

      Emma knew that she had, but Mr. Elton warmly added,

      “Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she is sitting down – which naturally presents a different – which in short gives exactly the idea – and the proportions must be preserved, you know. Exactly so indeed!”

      “It is very pretty,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as your drawings always are, my dear. I do not know anybody who draws so well as you do. The only thing I do not like is, that she seems to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her shoulders – and it makes one think she must catch cold[38].”

      “But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer. Look at the tree.”

      “But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear.”

      “You, sir, may say anything,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess that I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of doors! The naivete of Miss Smith’s manners – and altogether – Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot keep my eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.”

      The next thing was to get the picture framed; and here were a few difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London. But Mr. Elton’s gallantry was always on the alert. He could ride to London at any time.

      Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, choose the frame, and give the directions.

      “What a precious deposit![39]” said he with a tender sigh, as he received it.

      “This man is almost too gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of being in love.”

      Chapter VII

      The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion for Emma’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield, as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to return again to dinner. She returned, and with an agitated, hurried look, announced something extraordinary to have happened. She had heard, as soon as she got back to Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and finding she was not at home, had left a little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal of marriage.

      Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter, at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very much – but she did not know – and so, she was come as fast as she could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.

      “Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do.”

      Emma read, and was surprized. The style of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not merely no grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, well,” and at last asked, “Is it a good letter? or is it too short?”

      “Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly, “so good a letter, Harriet, that I think one of his sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom I saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. Yes, I understand the sort of mind. A better written letter, Harriet (returning it,) than I had expected.”

      “Well,” said the still waiting Harriet; “well – and – and what shall I do?”

      “What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this letter?”

      “Yes.”

      “But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course – and speedily.”

      “Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.”

      “Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will express yourself very properly, I am sure, you need not write with the appearance of sorrow for his disappointment.”

      “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, if you feel in doubt as to the purport of your answer. I had imagined you were consulting me only as to the wording of it[40].”

      Harriet was silent. Emma continued:

      “You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect.”

      “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?”

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