Volume I: Chapter X

by Jane Austen

　　Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weatherto prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise;and on the morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poorsick family, who lived a little way out of Highbury.

　　Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a laneleading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main streetof the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abodeof Mr. Elton. A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed,and then, about a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage,an old and not very good house, almost as close to the road as itcould be. It had no advantage of situation; but had been very muchsmartened up by the present proprietor; and, such as it was,there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it withouta slackened pace and observing eyes.--Emma's remark was--

　　"There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these days."--Harriet's was--

　　"Oh, what a sweet houseThere are the yellowcurtains that Miss Nash admires so much."

　　"I do not often walk this way now," said Emma, as they proceeded,"but then there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually getintimately acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollardsof this part of Highbury."

　　Harriet, she found, had never in her life been within side the Vicarage,and her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriorsand probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love,with Mr. Elton's seeing ready wit in her.

　　"I wish we could contrive it," said she; "but I cannot thinkof any tolerable pretence for going in;--no servant that I wantto inquire about of his housekeeper--no message from my father."

　　She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silenceof some minutes, Harriet thus began again--

　　"I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married,or going to be married! so charming as you are!"--

　　Emma laughed, and replied,

　　"My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry;I must find other people charming--one other person at least.And I am not only, not going to be married, at present, but havevery little intention of ever marrying at all."

　　"Ah!--so you say; but I cannot believe it."

　　"I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet,to be tempted; Mr. Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,)is out of the question: and I do not wish to see any such person.I would rather not be tempted. I cannot really change for the better.If I were to marry, I must expect to repent it."

　　"Dear me

　　"I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry.Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing!but I never have been in love; it is not my way, or my nature;and I do not think I ever shall. And, without love, I am sure Ishould be a fool to change such a situation as mine. Fortune Ido not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want:I believe few married women are half as much mistress of theirhusband's house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never could I expectto be so truly beloved and important; so always first and alwaysright in any man's eyes as I am in my father's."

　　"But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!"

　　"That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if Ithought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly--so satisfied--so smiling--so prosing--so undistinguishing and unfastidious--and so apt to tell every thing relative to every body about me,I would marry to-morrow. But between us, I am convinced there nevercan be any likeness, except in being unmarried."

　　"But still, you will be an old maid! and that's so dreadful!"

　　"Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it ispoverty only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public!A single woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous,disagreeable old maid! the proper sport of boys and girls,but a single woman, of good fortune, is always respectable,and may be as sensible and pleasant as any body else. And thedistinction is not quite so much against the candour and commonsense of the world as appears at first; for a very narrow incomehas a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper.Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small,and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross.This does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too goodnatured and too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is verymuch to the taste of every body, though single and though poor.Poverty certainly has not contracted her mind: I really believe,if she had only a shilling in the world, she would be very likelyto give away sixpence of it; and nobody is afraid of her: that is agreat charm."

　　"Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourselfwhen you grow old?"

　　"If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a greatmany independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should bemore in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty.Woman's usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me thenas they are now; or with no important variation. If I draw less,I shall read more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work.And as for objects of interest, objects for the affections,which is in truth the great point of inferiority, the want of whichis really the great evil to be avoided in not marrying, I shallbe very well off, with all the children of a sister I love so much,to care about. There will be enough of them, in all probability,to supply every sort of sensation that declining life can need.There will be enough for every hope and every fear; and though myattachment to none can equal that of a parent, it suits my ideasof comfort better than what is warmer and blinder. My nephewsand nieces!--I shall often have a niece with me."

　　"Do you know Miss Bates's niece? That is, I know you must haveseen her a hundred times--but are you acquainted?"

　　"Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comesto Highbury. By the bye, that is almost enough to put one outof conceit with a niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I shouldever bore people half so much about all the Knightleys together,as she does about Jane Fairfax. One is sick of the very nameof Jane Fairfax. Every letter from her is read forty times over;her compliments to all friends go round and round again; and if shedoes but send her aunt the pattern of a stomacher, or knit a pairof garters for her grandmother, one hears of nothing else for a month.I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she tires me to death."

　　They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topicswere superseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distressesof the poor were as sure of relief from her personal attentionand kindness, her counsel and her patience, as from her purse.She understood their ways, could allow for their ignorance andtheir temptations, had no romantic expectations of extraordinaryvirtue from those for whom education had done so little; entered intotheir troubles with ready sympathy, and always gave her assistancewith as much intelligence as good-will. In the present instance,it was sickness and poverty together which she came to visit;and after remaining there as long as she could give comfort or advice,she quitted the cottage with such an impression of the sceneas made her say to Harriet, as they walked away,

　　"These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling theymake every thing else appear!--I feel now as if I could think ofnothing but these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet,who can say how soon it may all vanish from my mind?"

　　"Very true," said Harriet. "Poor creatures! one can thinkof nothing else."

　　"And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,"said Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstepwhich ended the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden,and brought them into the lane again. "I do not think it will,"stopping to look once more at all the outward wretchedness of the place,and recall the still greater within.

　　"Oh! dear, no," said her companion.

　　They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bendwas passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so nearas to give Emma time only to say farther,

　　"Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stabilityin good thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed thatif compassion has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers,it has done all that is truly important. If we feel for the wretched,enough to do all we can for them, the rest is empty sympathy,only distressing to ourselves."

　　Harriet could just answer, "Oh! dear, yes," before the gentlemanjoined them. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however,were the first subject on meeting. He had been going to callon them. His visit he would now defer; but they had a veryinteresting parley about what could be done and should be done.Mr. Elton then turned back to accompany them.

　　"To fall in with each other on such an errand as this," thought Emma;"to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increaseof love on each side. I should not wonder if it were to bringon the declaration. It must, if I were not here. I wish I wereanywhere else."

　　Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soonafterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raisedon one side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road.But she had not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet'shabits of dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that,in short, they would both be soon after her. This would not do;she immediately stopped, under pretence of having some alterationto make in the lacing of her half-boot, and stooping down in completeoccupation of the footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on,and she would follow in half a minute. They did as they were desired;and by the time she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot,she had the comfort of farther delay in her power, being overtakenby a child from the cottage, setting out, according to orders,with her pitcher, to fetch broth from Hartfield. To walk by the sideof this child, and talk to and question her, was the most naturalthing in the world, or would have been the most natural, had she beenacting just then without design; and by this means the others werestill able to keep ahead, without any obligation of waiting for her.She gained on them, however, involuntarily: the child's pace was quick,and theirs rather slow; and she was the more concerned at it,from their being evidently in a conversation which interested them.Mr. Elton was speaking with animation, Harriet listening with a verypleased attention; and Emma, having sent the child on, was beginningto think how she might draw back a little more, when they bothlooked around, and she was obliged to join them.

　　Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail;and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that hewas only giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday'sparty at his friend Cole's, and that she was come in herself forthe Stilton cheese, the north Wiltshire, the butter, the cellery,the beet-root, and all the dessert.

　　"This would soon have led to something better, of course," was herconsoling reflection; "any thing interests between those who love;and any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart.If I could but have kept longer away!"

　　They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicaragepales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet intothe house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot,and fall behind to arrange it once more. She then broke the laceoff short, and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presentlyobliged to entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability toput herself to rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort.

　　"Part of my lace is gone," said she, "and I do not know how I amto contrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both,but I hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must begleave to stop at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bitof ribband or string, or any thing just to keep my boot on."

　　Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothingcould exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them intohis house and endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage.The room they were taken into was the one he chiefly occupied,and looking forwards; behind it was another with which it immediatelycommunicated; the door between them was open, and Emma passedinto it with the housekeeper to receive her assistance in the mostcomfortable manner. She was obliged to leave the door ajar as shefound it; but she fully intended that Mr. Elton should close it.It was not closed, however, it still remained ajar; but by engagingthe housekeeper in incessant conversation, she hoped to make itpracticable for him to chuse his own subject in the adjoining room.For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself. It couldbe protracted no longer. She was then obliged to be finished,and make her appearance.

　　The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had amost favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the gloryof having schemed successfully. But it would not do; he had notcome to the point. He had been most agreeable, most delightful;he had told Harriet that he had seen them go by, and had purposelyfollowed them; other little gallantries and allusions had been dropt,but nothing serious.

　　"Cautious, very cautious," thought Emma; "he advances inch by inch,and will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure."

　　Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplishedby her ingenious device, she could not but flatter herselfthat it had been the occasion of much present enjoyment to both,and must be leading them forward to the great event.