Chapter 37

by Jane Austen

　　Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight,that her mother felt it no longer necessary to give upthe whole of her time to her; and, contenting herself withvisiting her once or twice a day, returned from that periodto her own home, and her own habits, in which she foundthe Miss Dashwoods very ready to ressume their former share.About the third or fourth morning after theirbeing thus resettled in Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings,on returning from her ordinary visit to Mrs. Palmer,entered the drawing-room, where Elinor was sittingby herself, with an air of such hurrying importanceas prepared her to hear something wonderful; and giving hertime only to form that idea, began directly to justify it,by saying,"Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?""No, ma'am. What is it?""Something so strange! But you shall hear it all.--When I got to Mr. Palmer's, I found Charlotte quitein a fuss about the child. She was sure it was veryill--it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples.So I looked at it directly, and, 'Lord! my dear,'says I, 'it is nothing in the world, but the red gum--'and nurse said just the same. But Charlotte, she wouldnot be satisfied, so Mr. Donavan was sent for; and luckilyhe happened to just come in from Harley Street, so hestepped over directly, and as soon as ever he saw the child,be said just as we did, that it was nothing in the worldbut the red gum, and then Charlotte was easy. And so,just as he was going away again, it came into my head,I am sure I do not know how I happened to think of it,but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news.So upon that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave,and seemed to know something or other, and at last hesaid in a whisper, 'For fear any unpleasant reportshould reach the young ladies under your care as to theirsister's indisposition, I think it advisable to say,that I believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hopeMrs. Dashwood will do very well.'""What! is Fanny ill?""That is exactly what I said, my dear. 'Lord!' says I,'is Mrs. Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and thelong and the short of the matter, by all I can learn,seems to be this. Mr. Edward Ferrars, the very youngman I used to joke with you about (but however, as itturns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thingin it), Mr. Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engagedabove this twelvemonth to my cousin Lucy!--There's for you,my dear!--And not a creature knowing a syllable of the matter,except NancyThere is no great wonder in their liking one another;but that matters should be brought so forward between them,and nobody suspect itI never happenedto see them together, or I am sure I should have found itout directly. Well, and so this was kept a great secret,for fear of Mrs. Ferrars, and neither she nor yourbrother or sister suspected a word of the matter;--till this very morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is awell-meaning creature, but no conjurer, popt it all out.'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are all so fondof Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about it;'and so, away she went to your sister, who was sitting allalone at her carpet-work, little suspecting what was tocome--for she had just been saying to your brother, only fiveminutes before, that she thought to make a match betweenEdward and some Lord's daughter or other, I forget who.So you may think what a blow it was to all her vanityand pride. She fell into violent hysterics immediately,with such screams as reached your brother's ears,as he was sitting in his own dressing-room down stairs,thinking about writing a letter to his steward in the country.So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place,for Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreamingwhat was going on. Poor soul! I pity her. And I must say,I think she was used very hardly; for your sister scoldedlike any fury, and soon drove her into a fainting fit.Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cried bitterly;and your brother, he walked about the room, and saidhe did not know what to do. Mrs. Dashwood declaredthey should not stay a minute longer in the house,and your brother was forced to go down upon his knees too,to persuade her to let them stay till they had packedup their clothes. Then she fell into hysterics again,and he was so frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan,and Mr. Donavan found the house in all this uproar.The carriage was at the door ready to take my poorcousins away, and they were just stepping in as hecame off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says,she could hardly walk; and Nancy, she was almost as bad.I declare, I have no patience with your sister; and I hope,with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her.Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward will be in when hehears of it! To have his love used so scornfully! forthey say he is monstrous fond of her, as well he may.I should not wonder, if he was to be in the greatestpassion!--and Mr. Donavan thinks just the same. He and Ihad a great deal of talk about it; and the best of all is,that he is gone back again to Harley Street, that he maybe within call when Mrs. Ferrars is told of it, for shewas sent for as soon as ever my cousins left the house,for your sister was sure she would be in hysterics too;and so she may, for what I care. I have no pity foreither of them. I have no notion of people's makingsuch a to-do about money and greatness. There is noreason on earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should not marry;for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars may afford to do very wellby her son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself,she knows better than any body how to make the mostof every thing; I dare say, if Mrs. Ferrars would onlyallow him five hundred a-year, she would make as goodan appearance with it as any body else would with eight.Lord! how snug they might live in such another cottageas yours--or a little bigger--with two maids, and two men;and I believe I could help them to a housemaid, for myBetty has a sister out of place, that would fit themexactly."Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had hadtime enough to collect her thoughts, she was ableto give such an answer, and make such observations,as the subject might naturally be supposed to produce.Happy to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinaryinterest in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of lateoften hoped might be the case) had ceased to imagine herat all attached to Edward; and happy above all the rest,in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well ableto speak of the affair without embarrassment, and togive her judgment, as she believed, with impartialityon the conduct of every one concerned in it.She could hardly determine what her own expectationof its event really was; though she earnestly triedto drive away the notion of its being possible to endotherwise at last, than in the marriage of Edward and Lucy.What Mrs. Ferrars would say and do, though there couldnot be a doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear;and still more anxious to know how Edward wouldconduct himself. For him she felt much compassion;--for Lucy very little--and it cost her some pains to procurethat little;--for the rest of the party none at all.As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject,Elinor soon saw the necessity of preparing Marianne forits discussion. No time was to be lost in undeceiving her,in making her acquainted with the real truth, and inendeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others,without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her sister,or any resentment against Edward.Elinor's office was a painful one.--She was goingto remove what she really believed to be her sister'schief consolation,--to give such particulars of Edward as shefeared would ruin him for ever in her good opinion,-andto make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations,which to her fancy would seem strong, feel all her owndisappointment over again. But unwelcome as such a taskmust be, it was necessary to be done, and Elinor thereforehastened to perform it.She was very far from wishing to dwell on her ownfeelings, or to represent herself as suffering much,any otherwise than as the self-command she had practisedsince her first knowledge of Edward's engagement, mightsuggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne.Her narration was clear and simple; and though it couldnot be given without emotion, it was not accompaniedby violent agitation, nor impetuous grief.--that belongedrather to the hearer, for Marianne listened with horror,and cried excessively. Elinor was to be the comforterof others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs;and all the comfort that could be given by assurancesof her own composure of mind, and a very earnestvindication of Edward from every charge but of imprudence,was readily offered.But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither.Edward seemed a second Willoughby; and acknowledgingas Elinor did, that she had loved him most sincerely,could she feel less than herself! As for Lucy Steele,she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutelyincapable of attaching a sensible man, that she couldnot be persuaded at first to believe, and afterwardsto pardon, any former affection of Edward for her.She would not even admit it to have been natural;and Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so,by that which only could convince her, a better knowledgeof mankind.Her first communication had reached no farther thanto state the fact of the engagement, and the length of timeit had existed.--Marianne's feelings had then broken in,and put an end to all regularity of detail; and for sometime all that could be done was to soothe her distress,lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment. The firstquestion on her side, which led to farther particulars,was,"How long has this been known to you, Elinor? hashe written to you?""I have known it these four months. When Lucyfirst came to Barton Park last November, she told mein confidence of her engagement."At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishmentwhich her lips could not utter. After a pause of wonder,she exclaimed--"Four months!--Have you known of this four months?"Elinor confirmed it."What!--while attending me in all my misery, has thisbeen on your heart?--And I have reproached you for beinghappy!"--"It was not fit that you should then know how muchI was the reverse!""Four months!"--cried Marianne again.--"So calm!--so cheerful"By feeling that I was doing my duty.--My promise toLucy, obliged me to be secret. I owed it to her, therefore,to avoid giving any hint of the truth; and I owed it to myfamily and friends, not to create in them a solicitude about me,which it could not be in my power to satisfy."Marianne seemed much struck."I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and mymother," added Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it;--but without betraying my trust, I never could have convincedyou.""Four months"Yes. But I did not love only him;--and while the comfortof others was dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowinghow much I felt. Now, I can think and speak of it withlittle emotion. I would not have you suffer on my account;for I assure you I no longer suffer materially myself.I have many things to support me. I am not conscious of havingprovoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my own,I have borne it as much as possible without spreadingit farther. I acquit Edward of essential misconduct.I wish him very happy; and I am so sure of his alwaysdoing his duty, that though now he may harbour some regret,in the end he must become so. Lucy does not want sense,and that is the foundation on which every thing good maybe built.--And after all, Marianne, after all that isbewitching in the idea of a single and constant attachment,and all that can be said of one's happiness dependingentirely on any particular person, it is not meant--itis not fit--it is not possible that it should be so.--Edward will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superiorin person and understanding to half her sex; and timeand habit will teach him to forget that he ever thoughtanother superior to her."--"If such is your way of thinking," said Marianne,"if the loss of what is most valued is so easilyto be made up by something else, your resolution,your self-command, are, perhaps, a little less to bewondered at.--They are brought more within my comprehension.""I understand you.--You do not suppose that I have everfelt much.--For four months, Marianne, I have had all thishanging on my mind, without being at liberty to speakof it to a single creature; knowing that it would makeyou and my mother most unhappy whenever it were explainedto you, yet unable to prepare you for it in the least.--It was told me,--it was in a manner forced on me by thevery person herself, whose prior engagement ruined allmy prospects; and told me, as I thought, with triumph.--This person's suspicions, therefore, I have had to oppose,by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been mostdeeply interested;--and it has not been only once;--I havehad her hopes and exultation to listen to again and again.--I have known myself to be divided from Edward for ever,without hearing one circumstance that could make me lessdesire the connection.--Nothing has proved him unworthy;nor has anything declared him indifferent to me.--I have had to contend against the unkindness of his sister,and the insolence of his mother; and have suffered thepunishment of an attachment, without enjoying its advantages.--And all this has been going on at a time, when, as youknow too well, it has not been my only unhappiness.--If you can think me capable of ever feeling--surely youmay suppose that I have suffered now. The composureof mind with which I have brought myself at presentto consider the matter, the consolation that I have beenwilling to admit, have been the effect of constant andpainful exertion;--they did not spring up of themselves;--they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first.--No, Marianne.--then, if I had not been bound to silence,perhaps nothing could have kept me entirely--not even what Iowed to my dearest friends--from openly shewing that I wasvery unhappy."--Marianne was quite subdued.--"Oh! Elinor," she cried, "you have made me hatemyself for ever.--How barbarous have I been to you!--you, who have been my only comfort, who have borne with mein all my misery, who have seemed to be only sufferingfor meIs this the only return Ican make you?--Because your merit cries out upon myself,I have been trying to do it away."The tenderest caresses followed this confession.In such a frame of mind as she was now in, Elinor hadno difficulty in obtaining from her whatever promiseshe required; and at her request, Marianne engagednever to speak of the affair to any one with the leastappearance of bitterness;--to meet Lucy without betrayingthe smallest increase of dislike to her;--and even to seeEdward himself, if chance should bring them together,without any diminution of her usual cordiality.--These were great concessions;--but where Marianne feltthat she had injured, no reparation could be too muchfor her to make.She performed her promise of being discreet,to admiration.--She attended to all that Mrs. Jenningshad to say upon the subject, with an unchanging complexion,dissented from her in nothing, and was heard threetimes to say, "Yes, ma'am."--She listened to her praiseof Lucy with only moving from one chair to another,and when Mrs. Jennings talked of Edward's affection,it cost her only a spasm in her throat.--Such advancestowards heroism in her sister, made Elinor feel equalto any thing herself.The next morning brought a farther trial of it,in a visit from their brother, who came with a most seriousaspect to talk over the dreadful affair, and bring themnews of his wife."You have heard, I suppose," said he with great solemnity,as soon as he was seated, "of the very shocking discoverythat took place under our roof yesterday."They all looked their assent; it seemed too awfula moment for speech."Your sister," he continued, "has suffered dreadfully.Mrs. Ferrars too--in short it has been a scene of suchcomplicated distress--but I will hope that the storm maybe weathered without our being any of us quite overcome.Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday.But I would not alarm you too much. Donavan says thereis nothing materially to be apprehended; her constitutionis a good one, and her resolution equal to any thing.She has borne it all, with the fortitude of an angel!She says she never shall think well of anybody again;and one cannot wonder at it, after being so deceived!--meeting with such ingratitude, where so much kindnesshad been shewn, so much confidence had been placed! Itwas quite out of the benevolence of her heart, that shehad asked these young women to her house; merely becauseshe thought they deserved some attention, were harmless,well-behaved girls, and would be pleasant companions;for otherwise we both wished very much to have invited youand Marianne to be with us, while your kind friend there,was attending her daughter. And now to be so rewarded!'I wish, with all my heart,' says poor Fanny in heraffectionate way, 'that we had asked your sisters insteadof them.'"Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done,he went on."What poor Mrs. Ferrars suffered, when first Fannybroke it to her, is not to be described. While she withthe truest affection had been planning a most eligibleconnection for him, was it to be supposed that he couldbe all the time secretly engaged to another person!--sucha suspicion could never have entered her head! If shesuspected any prepossession elsewhere, it could not bein that quarter. 'There, to be sure,' said she, 'I mighthave thought myself safe.' She was quite in an agony.We consulted together, however, as to what should be done,and at last she determined to send for Edward.He came. But I am sorry to relate what ensued.All that Mrs. Ferrars could say to make him put an endto the engagement, assisted too as you may well supposeby my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties, was ofno avail. Duty, affection, every thing was disregarded.I never thought Edward so stubborn, so unfeeling before.His mother explained to him her liberal designs, in caseof his marrying Miss Morton; told him she would settle onhim the Norfolk estate, which, clear of land-tax, bringsin a good thousand a-year; offered even, when mattersgrew desperate, to make it twelve hundred; and in oppositionto this, if he still persisted in this low connection,represented to him the certain penury that must attendthe match. His own two thousand pounds she protestedshould be his all; she would never see him again; and so farwould she be from affording him the smallest assistance,that if he were to enter into any profession with a viewof better support, she would do all in her power to preventhim advancing in it."Here Marianne, in an ecstasy of indignation,clapped her hands together, and cried, "Gracious God!can this be possible!""Well may you wonder, Marianne," replied her brother,"at the obstinacy which could resist such arguments as these.Your exclamation is very natural."Marianne was going to retort, but she rememberedher promises, and forbore."All this, however," he continued, "was urged in vain.Edward said very little; but what he did say, was inthe most determined manner. Nothing should prevail onhim to give up his engagement. He would stand to it,cost him what it might.""Then," cried Mrs. Jennings with blunt sincerity,no longer able to be silent, "he has acted like an honestman! I beg your pardon, Mr. Dashwood, but if he haddone otherwise, I should have thought him a rascal.I have some little concern in the business, as wellas yourself, for Lucy Steele is my cousin, and I believethere is not a better kind of girl in the world, nor onewho more deserves a good husband."John Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his naturewas calm, not open to provocation, and he never wishedto offend anybody, especially anybody of good fortune.He therefore replied, without any resentment,"I would by no means speak disrespectfully of anyrelation of yours, madam. Miss Lucy Steele is, I dare say,a very deserving young woman, but in the present caseyou know, the connection must be impossible.And to have entered into a secret engagement with ayoung man under her uncle's care, the son of a womanespecially of such very large fortune as Mrs. Ferrars,is perhaps, altogether a little extraordinary. In short,I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any personwhom you have a regard for, Mrs. Jennings. We all wishher extremely happy; and Mrs. Ferrars's conduct throughoutthe whole, has been such as every conscientious, good mother,in like circumstances, would adopt. It has been dignifiedand liberal. Edward has drawn his own lot, and I fearit will be a bad one."Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension;and Elinor's heart wrung for the feelings of Edward,while braving his mother's threats, for a woman who couldnot reward him."Well, sir," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did it end?""I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy rupture:--Edward is dismissed for ever from his mother's notice.He left her house yesterday, but where he is gone, or whetherhe is still in town, I do not know; for we of course canmake no inquiry.""Poor young man!--and what is to become of him?""What, indeed, ma'am! It is a melancholy consideration.Born to the prospect of such affluence! I cannot conceivea situation more deplorable. The interest of two thousandpounds--how can a man live on it?--and when to that is addedthe recollection, that he might, but for his own folly,within three months have been in the receipt of twothousand, five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton hasthirty thousand pounds,) I cannot picture to myselfa more wretched condition. We must all feel for him;and the more so, because it is totally out of our powerto assist him.""Poor young man!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am surehe should be very welcome to bed and board at my house;and so I would tell him if I could see him. It is not fitthat he should be living about at his own charge now,at lodgings and taverns."Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward,though she could not forbear smiling at the form of it."If he would only have done as well by himself,"said John Dashwood, "as all his friends were disposed to doby him, he might now have been in his proper situation,and would have wanted for nothing. But as it is, it mustbe out of anybody's power to assist him. And there is onething more preparing against him, which must be worse thanall--his mother has determined, with a very natural kindof spirit, to settle that estate upon Robert immediately,which might have been Edward's, on proper conditions.I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking overthe business.""Well!" said Mrs. Jennings, "that is her revenge.Everybody has a way of their own. But I don't think minewould be, to make one son independent, because another hadplagued me."Marianne got up and walked about the room."Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man,"continued John, "than to see his younger brother inpossession of an estate which might have been his own?Poor Edward! I feel for him sincerely."A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion,concluded his visit; and with repeated assurances to hissisters that he really believed there was no materialdanger in Fanny's indisposition, and that they neednot therefore be very uneasy about it, he went away;leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sentimentson the present occasion, as far at least as it regardedMrs. Ferrars's conduct, the Dashwoods', and Edward's.Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as hequitted the room; and as her vehemence made reserveimpossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in Mrs. Jennings,they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the party.