Chapter 32

by Jane Austen

　　When the particulars of this conversation were repeatedby Miss Dashwood to her sister, as they very soon were,the effect on her was not entirely such as the formerhad hoped to see. Not that Marianne appeared to distrustthe truth of any part of it, for she listened to it allwith the most steady and submissive attention, made neitherobjection nor remark, attempted no vindication of Willoughby,and seemed to shew by her tears that she felt it tobe impossible. But though this behaviour assured Elinorthat the conviction of this guilt was carried home toher mind, though she saw with satisfaction the effect of it,in her no longer avoiding Colonel Brandon when he called,in her speaking to him, even voluntarily speaking,with a kind of compassionate respect, and though shesaw her spirits less violently irritated than before,she did not see her less wretched. Her mind did becomesettled, but it was settled in a gloomy dejection.She felt the loss of Willoughby's character yet more heavilythan she had felt the loss of his heart; his seduction anddesertion of Miss Williams, the misery of that poor girl,and the doubt of what his designs might once have beenon herself, preyed altogether so much on her spirits,that she could not bring herself to speak of what she felteven to Elinor; and, brooding over her sorrows in silence,gave more pain to her sister than could have been communicatedby the most open and most frequent confession of them.To give the feelings or the language of Mrs. Dashwoodon receiving and answering Elinor's letter would be onlyto give a repetition of what her daughters had already feltand said; of a disappointment hardly less painful thanMarianne's, and an indignation even greater than Elinor's.Long letters from her, quickly succeeding each other,arrived to tell all that she suffered and thought;to express her anxious solicitude for Marianne, and entreatshe would bear up with fortitude under this misfortune.Bad indeed must the nature of Marianne's affliction be,when her mother could talk of fortitude! mortifyingand humiliating must be the origin of those regrets,which she could wish her not to indulge!Against the interest of her own individual comfort,Mrs. Dashwood had determined that it would be better forMarianne to be any where, at that time, than at Barton,where every thing within her view would be bringing backthe past in the strongest and most afflicting manner,by constantly placing Willoughby before her, such asshe had always seen him there. She recommended it toher daughters, therefore, by all means not to shorten theirvisit to Mrs. Jennings; the length of which, though neverexactly fixed, had been expected by all to comprise at leastfive or six weeks. A variety of occupations, of objects,and of company, which could not be procured at Barton,would be inevitable there, and might yet, she hoped,cheat Marianne, at times, into some interest beyond herself,and even into some amusement, much as the ideas of bothmight now be spurned by her.From all danger of seeing Willoughby again,her mother considered her to be at least equally safein town as in the country, since his acquaintance mustnow be dropped by all who called themselves her friends.Design could never bring them in each other's way:negligence could never leave them exposed to a surprise;and chance had less in its favour in the crowd of Londonthan even in the retirement of Barton, where it mightforce him before her while paying that visit at Allenhamon his marriage, which Mrs. Dashwood, from foreseeing atfirst as a probable event, had brought herself to expectas a certain one.She had yet another reason for wishing her childrento remain where they were; a letter from her son-in-lawhad told her that he and his wife were to be in townbefore the middle of February, and she judged it rightthat they should sometimes see their brother.Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother's opinion,and she submitted to it therefore without opposition,though it proved perfectly different from what she wishedand expected, though she felt it to be entirely wrong,formed on mistaken grounds, and that by requiring herlonger continuance in London it deprived her of the onlypossible alleviation of her wretchedness, the personalsympathy of her mother, and doomed her to such society andsuch scenes as must prevent her ever knowing a moment's rest.But it was a matter of great consolation to her,that what brought evil to herself would bring good toher sister; and Elinor, on the other hand, suspecting thatit would not be in her power to avoid Edward entirely,comforted herself by thinking, that though their longerstay would therefore militate against her own happiness,it would be better for Marianne than an immediate returninto Devonshire.Her carefulness in guarding her sister from everhearing Willoughby's name mentioned, was not thrown away.Marianne, though without knowing it herself, reaped allits advantage; for neither Mrs. Jennings, nor Sir John,nor even Mrs. Palmer herself, ever spoke of him before her.Elinor wished that the same forbearance could have extendedtowards herself, but that was impossible, and she wasobliged to listen day after day to the indignation of them all.Sir John, could not have thought it possible."A man of whom he had always had such reason to think well!Such a good-natured fellow! He did not believe there was abolder rider in England! It was an unaccountable business.He wished him at the devil with all his heart. He wouldnot speak another word to him, meet him where he might,for all the world! No, not if it were to be by the sideof Barton covert, and they were kept watching for twohours together. Such a scoundrel of a fellow! sucha deceitful dog! It was only the last time they metthat he had offered him one of Folly's puppies! and thiswas the end of it!"Mrs. Palmer, in her way, was equally angry."She was determined to drop his acquaintance immediately,and she was very thankful that she had never been acquaintedwith him at all. She wished with all her heart CombeMagna was not so near Cleveland; but it did not signify,for it was a great deal too far off to visit; she hatedhim so much that she was resolved never to mentionhis name again, and she should tell everybody she saw,how good-for-nothing he was."The rest of Mrs. Palmer's sympathy was shewn in procuringall the particulars in her power of the approaching marriage,and communicating them to Elinor. She could soon tellat what coachmaker's the new carriage was building,by what painter Mr. Willoughby's portrait was drawn,and at what warehouse Miss Grey's clothes might be seen.The calm and polite unconcern of Lady Middletonon the occasion was a happy relief to Elinor's spirits,oppressed as they often were by the clamorous kindnessof the others. It was a great comfort to her to be sureof exciting no interest in one person at least among theircircle of friends: a great comfort to know that therewas one who would meet her without feeling any curiosityafter particulars, or any anxiety for her sister's health.Every qualification is raised at times, by thecircumstances of the moment, to more than its real value;and she was sometimes worried down by officious condolenceto rate good-breeding as more indispensable to comfortthan good-nature.Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affairabout once every day, or twice, if the subject occurredvery often, by saying, "It is very shocking, indeed!"and by the means of this continual though gentle vent,was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods from thefirst without the smallest emotion, but very soonto see them without recollecting a word of the matter;and having thus supported the dignity of her own sex,and spoken her decided censure of what was wrongin the other, she thought herself at liberty to attendto the interest of her own assemblies, and thereforedetermined (though rather against the opinion of Sir John)that as Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of eleganceand fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she married.Colonel Brandon's delicate, unobtrusive enquirieswere never unwelcome to Miss Dashwood. He had abundantlyearned the privilege of intimate discussion of hersister's disappointment, by the friendly zeal withwhich he had endeavoured to soften it, and they alwaysconversed with confidence. His chief reward for thepainful exertion of disclosing past sorrows and presenthumiliations, was given in the pitying eye with whichMarianne sometimes observed him, and the gentlenessof her voice whenever (though it did not often happen)she was obliged, or could oblige herself to speak to him.These assured him that his exertion had produced anincrease of good-will towards himself, and these gaveElinor hopes of its being farther augmented hereafter;but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who knewonly that the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and thatshe could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself,nor commission her to make it for him, began, at theend of two days, to think that, instead of Midsummer,they would not be married till Michaelmas, and by theend of a week that it would not be a match at all.The good understanding between the Colonel and MissDashwood seemed rather to declare that the honoursof the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour,would all be made over to her; and Mrs. Jennings had,for some time ceased to think at all of Mrs. Ferrars.Early in February, within a fortnight from thereceipt of Willoughby's letter, Elinor had the painfuloffice of informing her sister that he was married.She had taken care to have the intelligence conveyedto herself, as soon as it was known that the ceremonywas over, as she was desirous that Marianne should notreceive the first notice of it from the public papers,which she saw her eagerly examining every morning.She received the news with resolute composure;made no observation on it, and at first shed no tears;but after a short time they would burst out, and for therest of the day, she was in a state hardly less pitiablethan when she first learnt to expect the event.The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were married;and Elinor now hoped, as there could be no dangerof her seeing either of them, to prevail on her sister,who had never yet left the house since the blow first fell,to go out again by degrees as she had done before.About this time the two Miss Steeles, lately arrivedat their cousin's house in Bartlett's Buildings,Holburn, presented themselves again before their moregrand relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets;and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality.Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presencealways gave her pain, and she hardly knew how to makea very gracious return to the overpowering delight of Lucyin finding her still in town."I should have been quite disappointed if I had notfound you here still," said she repeatedly, with a strongemphasis on the word. "But I always thought I should.I was almost sure you would not leave London yet awhile;though you told me, you know, at Barton, that you shouldnot stay above a month. But I thought, at the time,that you would most likely change your mind when it cameto the point. It would have been such a great pityto have went away before your brother and sister came.And now to be sure you will be in no hurry to be gone.I am amazingly glad you did not keep to your word."Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forcedto use all her self-command to make it appear that shedid not."Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how didyou travel?""Not in the stage, I assure you," replied Miss Steele,with quick exultation; "we came post all the way, and hada very smart beau to attend us. Dr. Davies was comingto town, and so we thought we'd join him in a post-chaise;and he behaved very genteelly, and paid ten or twelveshillings more than we did.""Oh, oh!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "very pretty,indeed! and the Doctor is a single man, I warrant you.""There now," said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering,"everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and Icannot think why. My cousins say they are sure I havemade a conquest; but for my part I declare I never thinkabout him from one hour's end to another. 'Lord! herecomes your beau, Nancy,' my cousin said t'other day,when she saw him crossing the street to the house.My beau, indeed! said I--I cannot think who you mean.The Doctor is no beau of mine.""Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking--but it won't do--the Doctor is the man, I see.""No, indeed!" replied her cousin, with affected earnestness,"and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talkedof."Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifyingassurance that she certainly would not, and Miss Steelewas made completely happy."I suppose you will go and stay with your brotherand sister, Miss Dashwood, when they come to town,"said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints,to the charge."No, I do not think we shall.""Oh, yes, I dare say you will."Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition."What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood canspare you both for so long a time together!""Long a time, indeed!" interposed Mrs. Jennings."Why, their visit is but just begun!"Lucy was silenced."I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood,"said Miss Steele. "I am sorry she is not well--"for Marianne had left the room on their arrival."You are very good. My sister will be equallysorry to miss the pleasure of seeing you; but she hasbeen very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches,which make her unfit for company or conversation.""Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such oldfriends as Lucy and me!--I think she might see us;and I am sure we would not speak a word."Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal.Her sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in herdressing gown, and therefore not able to come to them."Oh, if that's all," cried Miss Steele, "we canjust as well go and see her."Elinor began to find this impertinence too much forher temper; but she was saved the trouble of checking it,by Lucy's sharp reprimand, which now, as on many occasions,though it did not give much sweetness to the mannersof one sister, was of advantage in governing those ofthe other.