Harriet said, “very true,” and she “would
not think about it;” but still she talked of
it—still she could talk of nothing else;
and Emma, at last, in order to put the Martins out
of her head, was obliged to hurry on the news, which
she had meant to give with so much tender caution;
hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry,
ashamed or only amused, at such a state of mind in
poor Harriet—such a conclusion of Mr. Elton’s
importance with her!
Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually revived.
Though she did not feel the first intelligence as
she might have done the day before, or an hour before,
its interest soon increased; and before their first
conversation was over, she had talked herself into
all the sensations of curiosity, wonder and regret,
pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins,
which could conduce to place the Martins under proper
subordination in her fancy.
Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been
such a meeting. It had been serviceable in deadening
the first shock, without retaining any influence to
alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could
not get at her, without seeking her, where hitherto
they had wanted either the courage or the condescension
to seek her; for since her refusal of the brother,
the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard’s;
and a twelvemonth might pass without their being thrown
together again, with any necessity, or even any power
of speech.
Human nature is so well disposed towards those who
are in interesting situations, that a young person,
who either marries or dies, is sure of being kindly
spoken of.
A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins’s name
was first mentioned in Highbury, before she was, by
some means or other, discovered to have every recommendation
of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highly
accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when
Mr. Elton himself arrived to triumph in his happy prospects,
and circulate the fame of her merits, there was very
little more for him to do, than to tell her Christian
name, and say whose music she principally played.
Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had
gone away rejected and mortified—disappointed
in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what appeared
to him strong encouragement; and not only losing the
right lady, but finding himself debased to the level
of a very wrong one. He had gone away deeply
offended—he came back engaged to another—and
to another as superior, of course, to the first, as
under such circumstances what is gained always is to
what is lost. He came back gay and self-satisfied,
eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse,
and defying Miss Smith.
