Emma and the Werewolves (7 page)

“
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 stop 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!”

“
Let me entreat you,” cried
Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight! Let me entreat you, Miss
Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent in favour of your
friend. I know what your drawings are. How could you suppose me
ignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your landscapes and
flowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable figure-pieces in
her drawing-room, at Randalls?”

Yes, good man! thought
Emma—but what has all that to do with taking likenesses? You know
nothing of drawing. Don’t pretend to be in raptures about mine.
Keep your raptures for Harriet’s face. “Well, if you give me such
kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try what I can do.
Harriet’s features are very delicate, which makes a likeness
difficult; and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the eye
and the lines about the mouth which one ought to catch.”

“
Exactly so—The shape of
the eye and the lines about the mouth—I have not a doubt of your
success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it, it will indeed,
to use your own words, be an exquisite possession.”

“
But I am afraid, Mr.
Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks so little of her
own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of answering me? How
completely it meant, ‘why should my picture be drawn?’”

“
Oh! yes, I observed it, I
assure you. It was not lost on me. But still I cannot imagine she
would not be persuaded.”

Harriet was soon back
again, and the proposal almost immediately made; and she had no
scruples which could stand many minutes against the earnest
pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work directly,
and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various
attempts at portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished,
that they might decide together on the best size for Harriet. Her
many beginnings were displayed. Miniatures, half-lengths,
whole-lengths, pencil, crayon, and water-colours had been all tried
in turn. She had always wanted to do every thing, and had made more
progress both in drawing and music than many might have done with
so little labour as she would ever submit to. She played and sang;
and drew in almost every style; but steadiness had always been
wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree of excellence
which she would have been glad to command, and ought not to have
failed of. She was not much deceived as to her own skill either as
an artist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others
deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often
higher than it deserved.

There was merit in every
drawing—in the least finished, perhaps the most; her style was
spirited; but had there been much less, or had there been ten times
more, the delight and admiration of her two companions would have
been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A likeness pleases
every body; and Miss Woodhouse’s performances must be
capital.

“
No great variety of faces
for you,” said Emma. “I had only my own family to study from. There
is my father—another of my father—but the idea of sitting for his
picture made him so nervous, that I could only take him by stealth;
neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston again, and again,
and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my kindest friend on
every occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her. There is my
sister; and really quite her own little elegant figure! and the
face not unlike. I should have made a good likeness of her, if she
would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw
her four children that she would not be quiet. Then, here come all
my attempts at three of those four children; there they are, Henry
and John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other, and any
one of them might do for any one of the rest. She was so eager to
have them drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no making
children of three or four years old stand still you know; nor can
it be very easy to take any likeness of them, beyond the air and
complexion, unless they are coarser featured than any of mama’s
children ever were. Here is my sketch of the fourth, who was a
baby. I took him as he was sleeping on the sofa, and it is as
strong a likeness of his cockade as you would wish to see. He had
nestled down his head most conveniently. That’s very like. I am
rather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa is very good.
Then here is my last” —unclosing a pretty sketch of a gentleman in
small size, whole-length— “my last and my best—my brother, Mr. John
Knightley. This did not want much of being finished, when I put it
away in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness. I
could not help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I
had really made a very good likeness of it—(Mrs. Weston and I were
quite agreed in thinking it very like)—only too handsome—too
flattering—but that was a fault on the right side—after all this,
came poor dear Isabella’s cold approbation of— “Yes, it was a
little like—but to be sure it did not do him justice.” We had had a
great deal of trouble in persuading him to sit at all. It was made
a great favour of; and altogether it was more than I could bear;
and so I never would finish it, to have it apologised over as an
unfavourable likeness, to every morning visitor in Brunswick
Square; and, as I said, I did then forswear ever drawing any body
again. But for Harriet’s sake, or rather for my own, and as there
are no husbands and wives in the case at present, I will break my
resolution now.”

Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and
delighted by the idea, and was repeating, “No husbands and wives in
the case at present indeed, as you observe. Exactly so. No husbands
and wives,” with so interesting a consciousness, that Emma began to
consider whether she had not better leave them together at once.
But as she wanted to be drawing, the declaration must wait a little
longer.

She had soon fixed on the size and sort of
portrait. It was to be a whole-length in water-colours, like Mr.
John Knightley’s, and was destined, if she could please herself, to
hold a very honourable station over the mantelpiece.

The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and
blushing, and afraid of not keeping her attitude and countenance,
presented a very sweet mixture of youthful expression to the steady
eyes of the artist. But there was no doing any thing, with Mr.
Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every touch. She gave him
credit for stationing himself where he might gaze and gaze again
without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to it, and
request him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her to
employ him in reading.

“
If he would be so good as
to read to them, it would be a kindness indeed! It would amuse away
the difficulties of her part, and lessen the irksomeness of Miss
Smith’s.”

Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet
listened, and Emma drew in peace. She must allow him to be still
frequently coming to look; any thing less would certainly have been
too little in a lover; and he was ready at the smallest
intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the progress, and be
charmed. There was no being displeased with such an encourager, for
his admiration made him discern a likeness almost before it was
possible. She could not respect his eye, but his love and his
complaisance were unexceptionable.

The sitting was altogether very
satisfactory; she was quite enough pleased with the first day’s
sketch to wish to go on. There was no want of likeness, she had
been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant to throw in a
little improvement to the figure, to give a little more height, and
considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of its being
in every way a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling its
destined place with credit to them both—a standing memorial of the
beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both;
with as many other agreeable associations as Mr. Elton’s very
promising attachment was likely to add.

Harriet was to sit again the next day; and
Mr. Elton, just as he ought, entreated for the permission of
attending and reading to them again.

“
By all means. We shall be
most happy to consider you as one of the party.”

The same civilities and courtesies, the same
success and satisfaction, took place on the morrow, and accompanied
the whole progress of the picture, which was rapid and happy. Every
body who saw it was pleased, but Mr. Elton was in continual
raptures, and defended it through every criticism.

“
Miss Woodhouse has given
her friend the only beauty she wanted,” observed Mrs. Weston to
him—not in the least suspecting that she was addressing a lover.
“The expression of the eye is most correct, but Miss Smith has not
those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of her face that she
has them not.”

“
Do you think so?” replied
he. “I cannot agree with you. It appears to me a most perfect
resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a likeness in my
life. We must allow for the effect of shade, you know.”

“
You have made her too
tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley.

Emma knew that she had, but would not own
it; and Mr. Elton warmly added,

“
Oh no! certainly not too
tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she is sitting
down—which naturally presents a different—which in short gives
exactly the idea—and the proportions must be preserved, you know.
Proportions, fore-shortening. Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea
of such a height as Miss Smith’s. Exactly so indeed!”

“
It is very pretty,” said
Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as your drawings always are,
my dear. I do not know any body who draws so well as you do. The
only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she seems to be
sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her
shoulders—and it makes one think she must catch cold.”

“
But, my dear papa, it is
supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer. Look at the
tree.”

“
But it is never safe to
sit out of doors, my dear.”

“
You, sir, may say any
thing,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess that I regard it as a
most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of doors; and the
tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any other situation
would have been much less in character. The naivete of Miss Smith’s
manners—and altogether—Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot keep my
eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.”

The next thing wanted was to get the picture
framed; and here were a few difficulties. It must be done directly;
it must be done in London; the order must go through the hands of
some intelligent person whose taste could be depended on; and
Isabella, the usual doer of all commissions, must not be applied
to, because it was December, and Mr. Woodhouse could not bear the
idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogs of December. But
no sooner was the distress known to Mr. Elton, than it was removed.
His gallantry was always on the alert. “Might he be trusted with
the commission, what infinite pleasure should he have in executing
it! he could ride to London at any time. It was impossible to say
how much he should be gratified by being employed on such an
errand.”

“
He was too good! she could
not endure the thought! she would not give him such a troublesome
office for the world” —brought on the desired repetition of
entreaties and assurances—and a very few minutes settled the
business.

Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London,
chuse the frame, and give the directions; and Emma thought she
could so pack it as to ensure its safety without much incommoding
him, while he seemed mostly fearful of not being incommoded
enough.

“
What a precious deposit!”
said he with a tender sigh, as he received it.

“
This man is almost too
gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should say so, but that I
suppose there may be a hundred different ways of being in love. He
is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet exactly; it will
be an ‘Exactly so,’ as he says himself; but he does sigh and
languish, and study for compliments rather more than I could endure
as a principal. I come in for a pretty good share as a second. But
it is his gratitude on Harriet’s account.”