Kabanata Kabanata 55 · 第55章

If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a

momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her

attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from

unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the

recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party

from London, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour

alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied—unaccountable

as it was!—that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley,

and was now forming all her views of happiness.

Harriet was a little distressed—did look a little foolish at first: but

having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and

self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with

the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the

fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend’s

approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by

meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations.—Harriet was most

happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley’s, and the

dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight.

But what did such particulars explain?—The fact was, as Emma could now

acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his

continuing to love her had been irresistible.—Beyond this, it must ever

be unintelligible to Emma.

The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh

reason for thinking so.—Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved to

be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the

comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to

have always wished for concealment.—Such was the blood of gentility

which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!—It was likely to be

as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what a

connexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley—or for the

Churchills—or even for Mr. Elton!—The stain of illegitimacy, unbleached

by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.

No objection was raised on the father’s side; the young man was treated

liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted

with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully

acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which could

bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet’s

happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he

offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and

improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her,

and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety, and

occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into

temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable

and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the

world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a

man;—or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself.

Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins,

was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted.—The

intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change

into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be, and

must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural

manner.

Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw

her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as

no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them,

could impair.—Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton,

but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on

herself.—Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of

the three, were the first to be married.

Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the

comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells.—The Mr. Churchills

were also in town; and they were only waiting for November.

The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by

Emma and Mr. Knightley.—They had determined that their marriage ought

to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to

allow them the fortnight’s absence in a tour to the seaside, which was

the plan.—John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in

approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse—how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced to

consent?—he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a

distant event.

When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were

almost hopeless.—A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain.—He began to

think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it—a very promising

step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he was not

happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter’s courage

failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know him fancying

himself neglected; and though her understanding almost acquiesced in

the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when once the event were

over, his distress would be soon over too, she hesitated—she could not

proceed.

In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden

illumination of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind, or any wonderful change of his

nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another

way.—Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house was robbed one night of all her

turkeys—evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in the

neighbourhood also suffered.—Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to Mr.

Woodhouse’s fears.—He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his

son-in-law’s protection, would have been under wretched alarm every

night of his life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of

the Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of

them protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.—But Mr. John Knightley

must be in London again by the end of the first week in November.

The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary,

cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the

moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day—and Mr. Elton was called

on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to

join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.

The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have

no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars

detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very

inferior to her own.—“Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a

most pitiful business!—Selina would stare when she heard of it.”—But,

in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence,

the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the

ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.

FINIS