“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured, 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 certainly I must confess that since my visiting here I have seen people—­and if one comes to compare them, person and manners, 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; and his being so much attached to me—­and his writing such a letter—­but as to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.”

“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 with a “very true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that her husband could write a good letter.”

“Oh! yes, very.  Nobody cares for a letter; 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 its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of her assistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every sentence.  The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had such a softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much concerned at the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of what his mother and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the young man had come in her way at that moment, he would have been accepted after all.

This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent.  The business was finished, and Harriet safe.  She was rather low all the evening, but Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them by speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea of Mr. Elton.

“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was said in rather a sorrowful tone.

“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet.  You are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey-Mill.”

“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy but at Hartfield.”

Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much surprized if she knew what had happened.  I am sure Miss Nash would—­for Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a linen-draper.”