与奈特利先生这番小小的解释让爱玛颇为愉快。这是舞会之后她次日清晨在草坪上散步时回味的一件惬意往事。——她极为高兴他们针对埃尔顿夫妇达成了如此良好的谅解，而且对丈夫和妻子的看法都如此一致；他对哈丽特的称赞，对她的让步，尤其令人欣慰。埃尔顿夫妇的无礼曾有几分钟险些毁掉她那个夜晚的余兴，却成了某些最大满足的契机；她还期待着另一个可喜的结果——治好哈丽特的一往情深。——从她们离开舞厅前哈丽特谈起此事时的神态，她抱有强烈的希望。仿佛哈丽特突然睁开了眼睛，看清了埃尔顿先生并非她原先所信的那等出类拔萃的人物。狂热已退，爱玛几乎不必担心那脉搏会因无礼的殷勤而再度急促。她指望埃尔顿夫妇的恶意，来提供那种冷落奚落所需的一切惩戒。——哈丽特恢复理智，弗兰克·丘吉尔不至于爱得太深，奈特利先生也不来找她吵嘴，摆在她面前的该是一个多么快活的夏天！
今早她见不到弗兰克·丘吉尔。他告诉过她，他不能耽搁在哈特菲尔德的兴致，因为中午前得到家。她并不遗憾。
把这些事一一安顿、梳理、归置妥当，她正转身朝宅子走去，精神为两个小男孩以及他们外公的需要而焕然一新，这时大铁转门开了，走进两个人，她最没料到会一同出现的——弗兰克·丘吉尔，哈丽特挽着他的胳膊——竟是哈丽特！——一瞬间便足以让她确信出了非同寻常的事。哈丽特面色惨白，神色惊惶，而他正试图宽慰她。——铁门与前门相距不足二十码；——三人很快都到了门厅，哈丽特一屁股坐进椅子便晕了过去。
晕倒的年轻小姐必须救醒；疑问须得解答，惊怪须得说明。这类事颇有趣味，但悬疑却不会持久。几分钟便让爱玛弄清了原委。
史密斯小姐，和戈达德太太家另一位包膳女寄宿生比克顿小姐——后者也去了舞会——一同外出散步，走了一条路，里士满路，虽看似够公开而安全，却把她们引入了惊吓。——出了海伯里约半英里，路突然一转，两旁榆树浓荫深覆，好长一段极为幽僻；两位小姐走进去一段，忽然瞥见前方不远处，路边一片稍宽的草地上，有一伙吉普赛人。一个放风的孩子朝她们走来讨钱；比克顿小姐吓得尖叫一声，喊哈丽特跟她走，便跑上陡岸，越过顶上一道矮篱，抄近路拼命逃回海伯里。可可怜的哈丽特跟不上。她跳舞后抽筋厉害，刚要往上爬便旧疾复发，浑身瘫软——就这么着，惊骇万分，她只得留在原地。
若两位小姐胆大些，那伙流浪者会如何举动，自难料定；但这般送上门的袭击机缘岂肯放过；很快哈丽特便被五六个孩子缠住，领头的是个壮妇和一个大男孩，全都吵闹喧哗，神情无礼，虽倒还未出恶言。——她越吓越慌，立刻许给他们钱，掏出钱袋给了一先令，求他们别再要，也别为难她。——那时她能走了，虽慢，正要离开——可她的惊惶与钱袋太诱人，整伙人尾随，不如说围住她，讨要更多。
这般光景里，弗兰克·丘吉尔撞见了她，她发抖讨饶，他们喧嚷放肆。极凑巧，他离开海伯里耽搁了，竟在此危急时刻赶到援手。晨光宜人，他遂步行前趋，让马从另一条路到海伯里外一两英里处候他——昨夜碰巧向贝茨小姐借了把剪刀忘了还，只得在她门口停下进去几分钟：因而比原定晚了；又因步行，直到快贴近众人才被瞧见。那妇人与男孩方才吓哈丽特的，这会儿轮到他们自己受怕。他把他们彻底吓跑；哈丽特急切攀着他，几乎说不出话，勉强撑到哈特菲尔德，精神便全然溃散。是他主张送她来哈特菲尔德：他没想别处。
故事全貌便是如此——他的叙述，以及哈丽特恢复神智与言语后的自述。——他不敢久留，只确认她无恙；几番耽搁教他一刻也误不得；爱玛应允向戈达德太太报平安，并向奈特利先生示警近处来了这伙人，他便出发了，携着她为友与己能道出的全部感恩祝福。
这般奇遇——俊朗青年与娇美少女如此撞在一处，再冷的心、再稳的脑，也难不生出某些念头。爱玛至少如此想。纵是语文学家、语法家、甚或数学家，见她所见，睹二人同状，闻其始末，能不感事态正教他俩对彼此别有兴味？——似她这般好作遐想的人，更该满心揣测前瞻而燃！——尤其心头已铺好如许预期之基。
真是异事！她记忆中，此地年轻小姐从未遭过这等事，无邂逅，无这般惊吓；——而今竟落在正其人、正其刻，而另一正其人恰过路相救！——确系异事！——且她深知此刻二人心中皆处佳境，更觉触动。他正欲摆脱对己之依恋，她刚从对埃尔顿先生之痴狂中醒转。仿佛万事皆合，许诺最饶兴味之果。此遇不可能不教二人互生好感。
哈丽特半昏之际，她与他寥寥数语，他谈起她的惊惶、她的天真、她揪紧他臂时的炽切，神情既娱且悦；末了哈丽特自述后，他更以最烈之辞，表对比克顿小姐愚顽恶行的愤慨。然万事任其天然，不推不助。她一步不挪，一语不露。不，干涉已够。 scheme，一被动之scheme，无妨。不过一愿罢了。除此她绝不让步。
爱玛首念是瞒父不知其事——晓得必惹焦虑惊惶：但很快觉隐瞒必不可能。半小时内传遍海伯里。正是最爱饶舌者——年少与卑微——所喜之闻；地方上众少年仆役旋即沉浸于骇人消息之乐。昨夜舞会似被吉普赛人盖过。可怜伍德豪斯先生坐着发抖，如爱玛所料，非得他们许诺永不出灌木丛方稍安。稍慰他心的是，日间陆续有人探问他与伍德豪斯小姐（邻人知他好被人问），及史密斯小姐；他答称皆无大碍——虽不尽实，因她全然无恙，哈丽特亦差堪，爱玛不去纠正。她身为此人子却素无病容，几乎不知不适为何；他若不替她编病，她便在口信里显不出模样。
吉普赛人未候司法动手，慌忙自去。海伯里小姐们惊魂未定便可安然再步；整桩事很快缩为无足轻重，只系爱玛与两侄。——她想中其事长存，亨利与约翰仍日日向她讨哈丽特与吉普赛人之事，仍执拗纠正她若与原述有毫厘之差。
This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable
pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which
she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.—She was extremely
glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the
Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much
alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was
peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few
minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the
occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward
to another happy result—the cure of Harriet’s infatuation.—From
Harriet’s manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted
the ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were
suddenly opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the
superior creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma
could harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by
injurious courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for
supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther
requisite.—Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and
Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer
must be before her!
She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that
he could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he
was to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it.
Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them
all to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened
up for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their
grandpapa, when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons
entered whom she had never less expected to see together—Frank
Churchill, with Harriet leaning on his arm—actually Harriet!—A moment
sufficed to convince her that something extraordinary had happened.
Harriet looked white and frightened, and he was trying to cheer
her.—The iron gates and the front-door were not twenty yards
asunder;—they were all three soon in the hall, and Harriet immediately
sinking into a chair fainted away.
A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered,
and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the
suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted
with the whole.
Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs.
Goddard’s, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and
taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough
for safety, had led them into alarm.—About half a mile beyond Highbury,
making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became
for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies had
advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small
distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a
party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and
Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and
calling on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight
hedge at the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to
Highbury. But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much
from cramp after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank
brought on such a return of it as made her absolutely powerless—and in
this state, and exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain.
How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more
courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could
not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen
children, headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and
impertinent in look, though not absolutely in word.—More and more
frightened, she immediately promised them money, and taking out her
purse, gave them a shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to
use her ill.—She was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was
moving away—but her terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was
followed, or rather surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more.
In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and
conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his
leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance
at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced
him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road,
a mile or two beyond Highbury—and happening to have borrowed a pair of
scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to
restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a
few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being on
foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The
terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then
their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet
eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength
enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome. It
was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other
place.
This was the amount of the whole story,—of his communication and of
Harriet’s as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.—He dared
not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him not
another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her
safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people
in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the
grateful blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself.
Such an adventure as this,—a fine young man and a lovely young woman
thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain
ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at
least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician
have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and
heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been
at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?—How much
more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and
foresight!—especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her
mind had already made.
It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever
occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no
rencontre, no alarm of the kind;—and now it had happened to the very
person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing
to pass by to rescue her!—It certainly was very extraordinary!—And
knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this
period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his
attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr.
Elton. It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most
interesting consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence
should not be strongly recommending each to the other.
In the few minutes’ conversation which she had yet had with him, while
Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, her
naïveté, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a
sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet’s own
account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the
abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing
was to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted.
She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of
interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive
scheme. It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account
proceed.
Emma’s first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of
what had passed,—aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but
she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour
it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those
who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in
the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last
night’s ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as
he sat, and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without
their promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some
comfort to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse
(for his neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well
as Miss Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had
the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very
indifferent—which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well,
and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had
an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man, for
she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent
illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.
The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took
themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have
walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history
dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her
nephews:—in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and
John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the
gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the
slightest particular from the original recital.
