Bab Bab 14 · 第14章

Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they

walked into Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room;—Mr. Elton must compose his

joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr. Elton

must smile less, and Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the

place.—Emma only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as

happy as she was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons.

Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the

world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any

one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and

understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible, the

little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father

and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston

had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted

communication of all those little matters on which the daily happiness

of private life depends, was one of the first gratifications of each.

This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day’s visit might not

afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but

the very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was

grateful to Emma, and she determined to think as little as possible of

Mr. Elton’s oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all

that was enjoyable to the utmost.

The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty well gone through

before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough to

give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and

Isabella’s coming, and of Emma’s being to follow, and had indeed just

got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come and see his

daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been

almost wholly engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn away

and welcome her dear Emma.

Emma’s project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather

sorry to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close

to her. The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility

towards Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but

was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and

solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting

him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal

suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined? can it be

possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his affections from

Harriet to me?—Absurd and insufferable!”—Yet he would be so anxious for

her being perfectly warm, would be so interested about her father, and

so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin admiring her

drawings with so much zeal and so little knowledge as seemed terribly

like a would-be lover, and made it some effort with her to preserve her

good manners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for

Harriet’s, in the hope that all would yet turn out right, she was even

positively civil; but it was an effort; especially as something was

going on amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr.

Elton’s nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard

enough to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about his

son; she heard the words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated

several times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much

suspected that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but

before she could quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past

that any reviving question from her would have been awkward.

Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma’s resolution of never

marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr. Frank

Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently

thought—especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor—that if

she _were_ to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age,

character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the

families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be a

match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs.

Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though not

meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a

situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could

change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided

intention of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain

degree, and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in

their friends’ imaginations.

With such sensations, Mr. Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-timed;

but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very

cross—and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly

pass without bringing forward the same information again, or the

substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston.—So it proved;—for

when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, at

dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of

hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to say

to her,

“We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to

see two more here,—your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my

son—and then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not

hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting

Frank. I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us

within a fortnight.”

Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to

his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making their

party quite complete.

“He has been wanting to come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since

September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his

own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between

ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices.

But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in

January.”

“What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so

anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy as

yourself.”

“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off.

She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not

know the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is—(but this is

quite between ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the

other room. There are secrets in all families, you know)—The case is,

that a party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in

January; and that Frank’s coming depends upon their being put off. If

they are not put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it

is a family that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe, has

a particular dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite

them once in two or three years, they always are put off when it comes

to the point. I have not the smallest doubt of the issue. I am as

confident of seeing Frank here before the middle of January, as I am of

being here myself: but your good friend there (nodding towards the

upper end of the table) has so few vagaries herself, and has been so

little used to them at Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their

effects, as I have been long in the practice of doing.”

“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied

Emma; “but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he

will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe.”

“Yes—I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been at

the place in my life.—She is an odd woman!—But I never allow myself to

speak ill of her, on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very

fond of him. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of any

body, except herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her

way—allowing for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing

to be as she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him,

that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say it

to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in

general; and the devil of a temper.”

Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston,

very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy—yet

observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming.—

Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be

secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked

of: “for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as

Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr.

Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter

stands?”

“Yes—it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs.

Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain thing in the world.”

“My Emma!” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty of

caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending

before—“You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means

so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father

thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in

short, upon her temper. To you—to my two daughters—I may venture on the

truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered

woman; and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare

him.”

“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied

Isabella: “and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without

the greatest compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered

person, must be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any

thing of; but it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she

never had any children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would

have made them!”

Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have

heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve

which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed,

would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills from

her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own

imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at

present there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon

followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after dinner,

was a confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor

conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with

whom he was always comfortable.

While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity of

saying,

“And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any means

certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant,

whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.”

“Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays. Even

if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that

some excuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine

any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on the

Churchills’ to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They are

jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no

dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.”

“He ought to come,” said Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days,

he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man’s not having

it in his power to do as much as that. A young _woman_, if she fall

into bad hands, may be teased, and kept at a distance from those she

wants to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young _man_’s being under

such restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if

he likes it.”

“One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before

one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to

use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one

individual of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must

not be judged by general rules: _she_ is so very unreasonable; and

every thing gives way to her.”

“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite.

Now, according to my idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural,

that while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to

whom she owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice

towards _him_, she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom

she owes nothing at all.”

“My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand

a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its own way.

I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it

may be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand _when_ it will

be.”

Emma listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless

he comes.”

“He may have a great deal of influence on some points,” continued Mrs.

Weston, “and on others, very little: and among those, on which she is

beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance

of his coming away from them to visit us.”