“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher of a school, Harriet.  I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an opportunity as this of being married.  Even this conquest would appear valuable in her eyes.  As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she is quite in the dark.  The attentions of a certain person can hardly be among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet.  Hitherto I fancy you and I are the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained themselves.”

Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that people should like her so much.  The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards the rejected Mr. Martin.

“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly.  “I wonder what they are all doing—­whether his sisters know—­if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy too.  I hope he will not mind it so very much.”

“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully employed,” cried Emma.  “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times, allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.”

“My picture!—­But he has left my picture in Bond-street.”

“Has he so!—­Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton.  No, my dear little modest Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till just before he mounts his horse to-morrow.  It is his companion all this evening, his solace, his delight.  It opens his designs to his family, it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm prepossession.  How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!”

Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.

CHAPTER VIII

Harriet slept at Hartfield that night.  For some weeks past she had been spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have a bed-room appropriated to herself; 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, to make a regular visit of some days.

While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr. Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up his mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of his own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose.  Mr. Knightley, who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies and civil hesitations of the other.