LITMIR.BIZ

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but I have a very sincere interest in Emma. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one feels for Emma. I wonder what will become of her!”

      “So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very much.”

      “She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love with a proper man. I should like to see Emma in love, and it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts to attach her; and she goes so seldom from home.”

      Chapter VI

      Emma was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in love with Harriet. He talked of her and praised her warmly. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was one of the proofs of his growing attachment.

      “You have given Miss Smith all that she required,” said he; “you have made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.”

      “I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet had all the natural grace of sweetness, temper and artlessness in herself. I have done very little. I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character.”

      “Exactly so; so much decision of character!”

      Emma was not less pleased another day with the manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers, to have Harriet's picture.

      “Did you ever sit for your picture, Harriet?” said she.

      “Oh! dear, no, never,” answered Harriet. “Why should my picture be drawn?”

      No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed,

      “What an excellent picture of her would be! I would give any money for it. You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great passion for painting. And I could try, if Harriet would sit to me. It would be such a delight to have her picture!”

      “Oh, yes,” cried Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent in favour of your friend.”

      “But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks so little of her own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of answering me? 'Why should my picture be drawn?'”

      “I observed it, I assure you. But still I am sure she would be persuaded.”

      Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made. Emma wished to go to work directly. She had soon decided on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be a whole-length in water-colours.

      The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, presented a very sweet mixture of youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But Mr. Elton was fidgeting behind Emma and watching every touch. So Emma requested him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her to ask him to read.

      Mr. Elton was happy to read aloud. Harriet listened, and Emma drew in peace. The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; Emma was quite enough pleased with the first day's sketch to wish to go on. Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr. Elton asked for the permission of reading to them again.

      “By all means[35]. 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, 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[36].”

      “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 naïveté[37] 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 supposed to take the drawing to London, choose the frame, and give the directions.

      “What a precious deposit![38]” said he with a 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 that something extraordinary had 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. In this letter he asked her to marry him!

      Who could have thought it? She was so surprised 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 arrived 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 surprised. The style of the letter was much above her expectation. It was a letter written by a gentleman. There were no grammatical errors; the language, though plain, was expressive, yet exquisite. 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 no doubt it is easier for him to talk with his pen rather than his tongue. It is so with some men. A better written letter, Harriet (returning it,) than I had expected.”

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

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

      “Yes. But

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