Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet’s
fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude
of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she
found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr.
Elton’s being a remarkably handsome man, with
most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation
in following up the assurance of his admiration by
agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of
creating as much liking on Harriet’s side, as
there could be any occasion for. She was quite
convinced of Mr. Elton’s being in the fairest
way of falling in love, if not in love already.
She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked
of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could
not suppose any thing wanting which a little time would
not add. His perception of the striking improvement
of Harriet’s manner, since her introduction
at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs
of his growing attachment.
“You have given Miss Smith all that she required,”
said he; “you have made her graceful and easy.
She was a beautiful creature when she came to you,
but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added
are infinitely superior to what she received from nature.”
“I am glad you think I have been useful to her;
but Harriet only wanted drawing out, and receiving
a few, very few hints. She had all the natural
grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself.
I have done very little.”
“If it were admissible to contradict a lady,”
said the gallant Mr. Elton—
“I have perhaps given her a little more decision
of character, have taught her to think on points which
had not fallen in her way before.”
“Exactly so; that is what principally strikes
me. So much superadded decision of character!
Skilful has been the hand!”
“Great has been the pleasure, I am sure.
I never met with a disposition more truly amiable.”
“I have no doubt of it.” And it was
spoken with a sort of sighing animation, which had
a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleased
another day with the manner in which he seconded a
sudden wish of hers, to have Harriet’s picture.
“Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?”
said she: “did you ever sit for your picture?”
Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and
only stopt to say, with a very interesting naivete,
“Oh! dear, no, never.”
No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed,
“What an exquisite possession a good picture
of her would be! I would give any money for it.
I almost long to attempt her likeness myself.
You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years
ago I had a great passion for taking likenesses, and
attempted several of my friends, and was thought to
have a tolerable eye in general. But from one
cause or another, I gave it up in disgust. But
really, I could almost venture, if Harriet would sit
to me. It would be such a delight to have her
picture!”
