Mr. Elton POV
I must say that I believe I am making considerable progress on the count of my relationship with Emma. That girl, or should I say, young woman, has such hidden talents! Today she painted an absolutely impeccable likeness of her young friend Harriet. There was not a detail missing and not a mistake of judgement to be seen- it was simply perfection. I rather feel Emma actually improved the appearance of her companion, and this was not the easiest task, for Harriet is nowhere near as lovely as Emma.
I watched as Emma first sketched and then painted her likeness of Harriet. I snuck glances of her whenever I came to watch her progress, and she seemed so pleased by my attentions to her that I felt I was making real progress with my courting. Of course, when she was finished, I was enraptured by the level of skill encapsulated in her work. She has such a fine eye for detail, such intimacy of the subject. Her delicate hands must surely be the reason behind this. And I am sure this si not even close to the extent of her talents. Naturally, I offered to take the likeness to be framed. It was the least I could do for the beautiful sweet girl. I hope the time will come soon when I can ask her for her hand.
Emma POV (modernised)
I can't believe Mr. Elton likes me, and not Harriet! After I worked so hard to bring those two together, he goes and dumps his emotions on me and leaves me unsure of myself and my reactions to him. Oh, what about poor Harriet? She's the one I've really hurt here. I made her fall in love with this awful man who was really wanting to be with me! How could I ever have been so stupid? I should have noticed something, really. I'm not sure anymore how I could ever have not seen it. His complements to Harriet were always sort of ambiguous, and looking back, so many of his actions are proof of how much he was focused on me! He was only worried about MY catching whatever Harriet had. He was so complementary of my painting of her, too! And he never spent very much time with the poor girl, not as much as he tried to spend with me! Oh, I hope very much I will be able to make Harriet forgive me. I'm such an ignorant fool! The wine, the wretched wine! If he hadn't been drinking, or if we'd gone home separately, or if anyone else had been with us, it would never have happened like this. I'm so ignorant, and I hope I never have to see him again, even though it's hardly avoidable. What ever will I do to fix this situation? I suppose I will wait and see what happens tomorrow.