Chapter 35

by Jane Austen

　　Elinor's curiosity to see Mrs. Ferrars was satisfied.--She had found in her every thing that could tend to makea farther connection between the families undesirable.--She had seen enough of her pride, her meanness, and herdetermined prejudice against herself, to comprehend allthe difficulties that must have perplexed the engagement,and retarded the marriage, of Edward and herself, had he beenotherwise free;--and she had seen almost enough to be thankfulfor her own sake, that one greater obstacle preserved herfrom suffering under any other of Mrs. Ferrars's creation,preserved her from all dependence upon her caprice, or anysolicitude for her good opinion. Or at least, if she did notbring herself quite to rejoice in Edward's being fetteredto Lucy, she determined, that had Lucy been more amiable,she ought to have rejoiced.She wondered that Lucy's spirits could be so very muchelevated by the civility of Mrs. Ferrars;--that her interestand her vanity should so very much blind her as to makethe attention which seemed only paid her because she wasnot Elinor, appear a compliment to herself--or to allowher to derive encouragement from a preference only given her,because her real situation was unknown. But that it was so,had not only been declared by Lucy's eyes at the time,but was declared over again the next morning more openly,for at her particular desire, Lady Middleton set her downin Berkeley Street on the chance of seeing Elinor alone,to tell her how happy she was.The chance proved a lucky one, for a message fromMrs. Palmer soon after she arrived, carried Mrs. Jennings away."My dear friend," cried Lucy, as soon as they wereby themselves, "I come to talk to you of my happiness.Could anything be so flattering as Mrs. Ferrars's wayof treating me yesterday? So exceeding affable as shewasbut the very moment I was introduced, there was such anaffability in her behaviour as really should seem to say,she had quite took a fancy to me. Now was not it so?--You saw it all; and was not you quite struck with it?""She was certainly very civil to you.""CivilI saw a vast deal more. Such kindness as fell to the shareof nobody but me!--No pride, no hauteur, and your sisterjust the same--all sweetness and affability!"Elinor wished to talk of something else, but Lucy stillpressed her to own that she had reason for her happiness;and Elinor was obliged to go on.--"Undoubtedly, if they had known your engagement,"said she, "nothing could be more flattering than theirtreatment of you;--but as that was not the case"--"I guessed you would say so"--replied Lucyquickly--"but there was no reason in the world whyMrs. Ferrars should seem to like me, if she did not,and her liking me is every thing. You shan't talk meout of my satisfaction. I am sure it will all end well,and there will be no difficulties at all, to what Iused to think. Mrs. Ferrars is a charming woman,and so is your sister. They are both delightful women,indeed!--I wonder I should never hear you say how agreeableMrs. Dashwood was!"To this Elinor had no answer to make, and did notattempt any."Are you ill, Miss Dashwood?--you seem low--youdon't speak;--sure you an't well.""I never was in better health.""I am glad of it with all my heart; but really you didnot look it. I should be sorry to have you ill; you, that havebeen the greatest comfort to me in the world!--Heavenknows what I should have done without your friendship."--Elinor tried to make a civil answer, though doubtingher own success. But it seemed to satisfy Lucy, for shedirectly replied,"Indeed I am perfectly convinced of your regardfor me, and next to Edward's love, it is the greatestcomfort I have.--Poor Edward!--But now there is onegood thing, we shall be able to meet, and meet pretty often,for Lady Middleton's delighted with Mrs. Dashwood,so we shall be a good deal in Harley Street, I dare say,and Edward spends half his time with his sister--besides,Lady Middleton and Mrs. Ferrars will visit now;--and Mrs. Ferrars and your sister were both so good to saymore than once, they should always be glad to see me.--They are such charming women!--I am sure if ever youtell your sister what I think of her, you cannot speaktoo high."But Elinor would not give her any encouragementto hope that she should tell her sister. Lucy continued."I am sure I should have seen it in a moment,if Mrs. Ferrars had took a dislike to me. If she had onlymade me a formal courtesy, for instance, without sayinga word, and never after had took any notice of me,and never looked at me in a pleasant way--you knowwhat I mean--if I had been treated in that forbiddingsort of way, I should have gave it all up in despair.I could not have stood it. For where she does dislike,I know it is most violent."Elinor was prevented from making any reply to thiscivil triumph, by the door's being thrown open, the servant'sannouncing Mr. Ferrars, and Edward's immediately walking in.It was a very awkward moment; and the countenance of eachshewed that it was so. They all looked exceedingly foolish;and Edward seemed to have as great an inclination to walkout of the room again, as to advance farther into it.The very circumstance, in its unpleasantest form,which they would each have been most anxious to avoid,had fallen on them.--They were not only all three together,but were together without the relief of any other person.The ladies recovered themselves first. It was not Lucy'sbusiness to put herself forward, and the appearance ofsecrecy must still be kept up. She could therefore onlylook her tenderness, and after slightly addressing him,said no more.But Elinor had more to do; and so anxious was she,for his sake and her own, to do it well, that sheforced herself, after a moment's recollection,to welcome him, with a look and manner that were almost easy,and almost open; and another struggle, another effort stillimproved them. She would not allow the presence of Lucy,nor the consciousness of some injustice towards herself,to deter her from saying that she was happy to see him,and that she had very much regretted being from home,when he called before in Berkeley Street. She wouldnot be frightened from paying him those attentions which,as a friend and almost a relation, were his due, by theobservant eyes of Lucy, though she soon perceived themto be narrowly watching her.Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward, and hehad courage enough to sit down; but his embarrassment stillexceeded that of the ladies in a proportion, which the caserendered reasonable, though his sex might make it rare;for his heart had not the indifference of Lucy's, norcould his conscience have quite the ease of Elinor's.Lucy, with a demure and settled air, seemed determinedto make no contribution to the comfort of the others,and would not say a word; and almost every thing that wassaid, proceeded from Elinor, who was obliged to volunteerall the information about her mother's health, their comingto town, &c. which Edward ought to have inquired about,but never did.Her exertions did not stop here; for she soonafterwards felt herself so heroically disposed asto determine, under pretence of fetching Marianne,to leave the others by themselves; and she really did it,and that in the handsomest manner, for she loitered awayseveral minutes on the landing-place, with the mosthigh-minded fortitude, before she went to her sister.When that was once done, however, it was time for the rapturesof Edward to cease; for Marianne's joy hurried her intothe drawing-room immediately. Her pleasure in seeing himwas like every other of her feelings, strong in itself,and strongly spoken. She met him with a hand that wouldbe taken, and a voice that expressed the affection of a sister."Dear Edward!" she cried, "this is a moment of greathappiness!--This would almost make amends for every thing?"Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved,but before such witnesses he dared not say half what hereally felt. Again they all sat down, and for a momentor two all were silent; while Marianne was looking with themost speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and sometimesat Elinor, regretting only that their delight in eachother should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome presence.Edward was the first to speak, and it was to noticeMarianne's altered looks, and express his fear of hernot finding London agree with her."Oh, don't think of me!" she replied with spiritedearnestness, though her eyes were filled with tearsas she spoke, "don't think of my health. Elinor is well,you see. That must be enough for us both."This remark was not calculated to make Edward orElinor more easy, nor to conciliate the good will of Lucy,who looked up at Marianne with no very benignant expression."Do you like London?" said Edward, willing to sayany thing that might introduce another subject."Not at all. I expected much pleasure in it,but I have found none. The sight of you, Edward, is theonly comfort it has afforded; and thank Heaven! youare what you always were!"She paused--no one spoke."I think, Elinor," she presently added, "we mustemploy Edward to take care of us in our return to Barton.In a week or two, I suppose, we shall be going; and, I trust,Edward will not be very unwilling to accept the charge."Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was,nobody knew, not even himself. But Marianne, who sawhis agitation, and could easily trace it to whatevercause best pleased herself, was perfectly satisfied,and soon talked of something else."We spent such a day, Edward, in Harley Streetyesterday! So dull, so wretchedly dull!--But I have muchto say to you on that head, which cannot be said now."And with this admirable discretion did she deferthe assurance of her finding their mutual relatives moredisagreeable than ever, and of her being particularlydisgusted with his mother, till they were more in private."But why were you not there, Edward?--Why did younot come?""I was engaged elsewhere.""Engaged! But what was that, when such friendswere to be met?""Perhaps, Miss Marianne," cried Lucy, eager to takesome revenge on her, "you think young men never standupon engagements, if they have no mind to keep them,little as well as great."Elinor was very angry, but Marianne seemed entirelyinsensible of the sting; for she calmly replied,"Not so, indeed; for, seriously speaking, I am verysure that conscience only kept Edward from Harley Street.And I really believe he has the most delicate consciencein the world; the most scrupulous in performingevery engagement, however minute, and however itmay make against his interest or pleasure. He is themost fearful of giving pain, of wounding expectation,and the most incapable of being selfish, of any bodyI ever saw. Edward, it is so, and I will say it.What! are you never to hear yourself praised!--Then youmust be no friend of mine; for those who will acceptof my love and esteem, must submit to my open commendation."The nature of her commendation, in the present case,however, happened to be particularly ill-suited to thefeelings of two thirds of her auditors, and was so veryunexhilarating to Edward, that he very soon got up to go away."Going so soon!" said Marianne; "my dear Edward,this must not be."And drawing him a little aside, she whisperedher persuasion that Lucy could not stay much longer.But even this encouragement failed, for he would go;and Lucy, who would have outstaid him, had his visit lastedtwo hours, soon afterwards went away."What can bring her here so often?" said Marianne,on her leaving them. "Could not she see that we wantedher gone!--how teazing to Edward!""Why so?--we were all his friends, and Lucy has beenthe longest known to him of any. It is but naturalthat he should like to see her as well as ourselves."Marianne looked at her steadily, and said, "You know,Elinor, that this is a kind of talking which I cannot bear.If you only hope to have your assertion contradicted,as I must suppose to be the case, you ought to recollectthat I am the last person in the world to do it.I cannot descend to be tricked out of assurances, that arenot really wanted."She then left the room; and Elinor dared not followher to say more, for bound as she was by her promiseof secrecy to Lucy, she could give no information thatwould convince Marianne; and painful as the consequencesof her still continuing in an error might be, she wasobliged to submit to it. All that she could hope, wasthat Edward would not often expose her or himself to thedistress of hearing Marianne's mistaken warmth, nor to therepetition of any other part of the pain that had attendedtheir recent meeting--and this she had every reason to expect.