Chapter 4 — CHAPTER IV

Harriet Smith’s intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick and
decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, and telling
her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so did their
satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma had very early
foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect Mrs. Weston’s
loss had been important. Her father never went beyond the shrubbery, where two
divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long walk, or his short, as the
year varied; and since Mrs. Weston’s marriage her exercise had been too
much confined. She had ventured once alone to Randalls, but it was not
pleasant; and a Harriet Smith, therefore, one whom she could summon at any time
to a walk, would be a valuable addition to her privileges. But in every
respect, as she saw more of her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her
kind designs.

Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful
disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be guided by
any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself was very amiable; and
her inclination for good company, and power of appreciating what was elegant
and clever, shewed that there was no want of taste, though strength of
understanding must not be expected. Altogether she was quite convinced of
Harriet Smith’s being exactly the young friend she wanted—exactly
the something which her home required. Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of
the question. Two such could never be granted. Two such she did not want. It
was quite a different sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs.
Weston was the object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem.
Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston
there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.