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
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.
"Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not consider me
as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma's advice and go out for a quarter of
an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had better take my three turns while I can. I
treat you without ceremony, Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged
"My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me."
"I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to entertain
you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my three turns--my
"You cannot do better, sir."
"I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am a very
slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides, you have
another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey."
"Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I think the sooner
you go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open the garden door for you."
Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being immediately
off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more chat. He began
speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more voluntary praise than Emma
had ever heard before.
"I cannot rate her beauty as you do," said he; "but she is a pretty little creature,
and I am inclined to think very well of her disposition. Her character depends
upon those she is with; but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman."
"I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be wanting."
"Come," said he, "you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you
have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl's giggle; she really
does you credit."
"Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been of some
use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where they may. You do not
often overpower me with it."