Chapter 43

by Jane Austen

　　Marianne got up the next morning at her usual time;to every inquiry replied that she was better, and tried toprove herself so, by engaging in her accustomary employments.But a day spent in sitting shivering over the firewith a book in her hand, which she was unable to read,or in lying, weary and languid, on a sofa, did not speakmuch in favour of her amendment; and when, at last,she went early to bed, more and more indisposed, ColonelBrandon was only astonished at her sister's composure,who, though attending and nursing her the whole day,against Marianne inclination, and forcing proper medicineson her at night, trusted, like Marianne, to the certaintyand efficacy of sleep, and felt no real alarm.A very restless and feverish night, however,disappointed the expectation of both; and when Marianne,after persisting in rising, confessed herself unableto sit up, and returned voluntarily to her bed,Elinor was very ready to adopt Mrs. Jennings's advice,of sending for the Palmers' apothecary.He came, examined his patient, and though encouragingMiss Dashwood to expect that a very few days would restoreher sister to health, yet, by pronouncing her disorderto have a putrid tendency, and allowing the word "infection"to pass his lips, gave instant alarm to Mrs. Palmer,on her baby's account. Mrs. Jennings, who had been inclinedfrom the first to think Marianne's complaint more seriousthan Elinor, now looked very grave on Mr. Harris's report,and confirming Charlotte's fears and caution, urged thenecessity of her immediate removal with her infant;and Mr. Palmer, though treating their apprehensions as idle,found the anxiety and importunity of his wife too greatto be withstood. Her departure, therefore, was fixed on;and within an hour after Mr. Harris's arrival, she set off,with her little boy and his nurse, for the house of anear relation of Mr. Palmer's, who lived a few mileson the other side of Bath; whither her husband promised,at her earnest entreaty, to join her in a day or two;and whither she was almost equally urgent with hermother to accompany her. Mrs. Jennings, however, with akindness of heart which made Elinor really love her,declared her resolution of not stirring from Clevelandas long as Marianne remained ill, and of endeavouring,by her own attentive care, to supply to her the placeof the mother she had taken her from; and Elinor found heron every occasion a most willing and active helpmate,desirous to share in all her fatigues, and often by herbetter experience in nursing, of material use.Poor Marianne, languid and low from the natureof her malady, and feeling herself universally ill,could no longer hope that tomorrow would find her recovered;and the idea of what tomorrow would have produced,but for this unlucky illness, made every ailment severe;for on that day they were to have begun their journey home;and, attended the whole way by a servant of Mrs. Jennings,were to have taken their mother by surprise on thefollowing forenoon. The little she said was all inlamentation of this inevitable delay; though Elinor triedto raise her spirits, and make her believe, as she thenreally believed herself, that it would be a very short one.The next day produced little or no alteration in thestate of the patient; she certainly was not better, and,except that there was no amendment, did not appear worse.Their party was now farther reduced; for Mr. Palmer,though very unwilling to go as well from real humanityand good-nature, as from a dislike of appearing to befrightened away by his wife, was persuaded at lastby Colonel Brandon to perform his promise of following her;and while he was preparing to go, Colonel Brandon himself,with a much greater exertion, began to talk of goinglikewise.--Here, however, the kindness of Mrs. Jenningsinterposed most acceptably; for to send the Colonel awaywhile his love was in so much uneasiness on her sister'saccount, would be to deprive them both, she thought,of every comfort; and therefore telling him at oncethat his stay at Cleveland was necessary to herself,that she should want him to play at piquet of an evening,while Miss Dashwood was above with her sister, &c. sheurged him so strongly to remain, that he, who was gratifyingthe first wish of his own heart by a compliance, could notlong even affect to demur; especially as Mrs. Jennings'sentreaty was warmly seconded by Mr. Palmer, who seemedto feel a relief to himself, in leaving behind him a personso well able to assist or advise Miss Dashwood in any emergence.Marianne was, of course, kept in ignorance of allthese arrangements. She knew not that she had beenthe means of sending the owners of Cleveland away,in about seven days from the time of their arrival.It gave her no surprise that she saw nothingof Mrs. Palmer; and as it gave her likewise no concern,she never mentioned her name.Two days passed away from the time of Mr. Palmer's departure,and her situation continued, with little variation,the same. Mr. Harris, who attended her every day,still talked boldly of a speedy recovery, and Miss Dashwoodwas equally sanguine; but the expectation of the otherswas by no means so cheerful. Mrs. Jennings had determinedvery early in the seizure that Marianne would neverget over it, and Colonel Brandon, who was chieflyof use in listening to Mrs. Jennings's forebodings,was not in a state of mind to resist their influence.He tried to reason himself out of fears, which the differentjudgment of the apothecary seemed to render absurd;but the many hours of each day in which he was leftentirely alone, were but too favourable for the admissionof every melancholy idea, and he could not expel fromhis mind the persuasion that he should see Marianne no more.On the morning of the third day however, the gloomyanticipations of both were almost done away; for whenMr. Harris arrived, he declared his patient materially better.Her pulse was much stronger, and every symptom more favourablethan on the preceding visit. Elinor, confirmed in everypleasant hope, was all cheerfulness; rejoicing thatin her letters to her mother, she had pursued her ownjudgment rather than her friend's, in making very lightof the indisposition which delayed them at Cleveland;and almost fixing on the time when Marianne would beable to travel.But the day did not close so auspiciously as it began.--Towards the evening Marianne became ill again, growingmore heavy, restless, and uncomfortable than before.Her sister, however, still sanguine, was willing toattribute the change to nothing more than the fatigueof having sat up to have her bed made; and carefullyadministering the cordials prescribed, saw her, withsatisfaction, sink at last into a slumber, from whichshe expected the most beneficial effects. Her sleep,though not so quiet as Elinor wished to see it,lasted a considerable time; and anxious to observethe result of it herself, she resolved to sit with herduring the whole of it. Mrs. Jennings, knowing nothingof any change in the patient, went unusually early to bed;her maid, who was one of the principal nurses, was recreatingherself in the housekeeper's room, and Elinor remainedalone with Marianne.The repose of the latter became more and more disturbed;and her sister, who watched, with unremitting attentionher continual change of posture, and heard the frequentbut inarticulate sounds of complaint which passed her lips,was almost wishing to rouse her from so painful a slumber,when Marianne, suddenly awakened by some accidental noisein the house, started hastily up, and, with feverish wildness,cried out,--"Is mama coming?--""Not yet," cried the other, concealing her terror,and assisting Marianne to lie down again, "but she willbe here, I hope, before it is long. It is a great way,you know, from hence to Barton.""But she must not go round by London," cried Marianne,in the same hurried manner. "I shall never see her,if she goes by London."Elinor perceived with alarm that she was notquite herself, and, while attempting to soothe her,eagerly felt her pulse. It was lower and quicker than ever!and Marianne, still talking wildly of mama, her alarmincreased so rapidly, as to determine her on sendinginstantly for Mr. Harris, and despatching a messengerto Barton for her mother. To consult with Colonel Brandonon the best means of effecting the latter, was a thoughtwhich immediately followed the resolution of its performance;and as soon she had rung up the maid to take her placeby her sister, she hastened down to the drawing-room,where she knew he was generally to be found at a muchlater hour than the present.It was no time for hesitation. Her fears and herdifficulties were immediately before him. Her fears,he had no courage, no confidence to attempt the removal of:--he listened to them in silent despondence;--but herdifficulties were instantly obviated, for with a readinessthat seemed to speak the occasion, and the servicepre-arranged in his mind, he offered himself as themessenger who should fetch Mrs. Dashwood. Elinor made noresistance that was not easily overcome. She thanked himwith brief, though fervent gratitude, and while he wentto hurry off his servant with a message to Mr. Harris, andan order for post-horses directly, she wrote a few linesto her mother.The comfort of such a friend at that moment as ColonelBrandon--or such a companion for her mother,--how gratefullywas it felt!--a companion whose judgment would guide,whose attendance must relieve, and whose friendship mightsoothe her!--as far as the shock of such a summons couldbe lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his assistance,would lessen it.He, meanwhile, whatever he might feel, acted with allthe firmness of a collected mind, made every necessaryarrangement with the utmost despatch, and calculatedwith exactness the time in which she might look forhis return. Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind.The horses arrived, even before they were expected,and Colonel Brandon only pressing her hand with a lookof solemnity, and a few words spoken too low to reach her ear,hurried into the carriage. It was then about twelveo'clock, and she returned to her sister's apartment to waitfor the arrival of the apothecary, and to watch by herthe rest of the night. It was a night of almost equalsuffering to both. Hour after hour passed away in sleeplesspain and delirium on Marianne's side, and in the mostcruel anxiety on Elinor's, before Mr. Harris appeared.Her apprehensions once raised, paid by their excess for allher former security; and the servant who sat up with her,for she would not allow Mrs. Jennings to be called,only tortured her more, by hints of what her mistresshad always thought.Marianne's ideas were still, at intervals,fixed incoherently on her mother, and whenever shementioned her name, it gave a pang to the heart ofpoor Elinor, who, reproaching herself for having trifledwith so many days of illness, and wretched for someimmediate relief, fancied that all relief might soonbe in vain, that every thing had been delayed too long,and pictured to herself her suffering mother arrivingtoo late to see this darling child, or to see her rational.She was on the point of sending again for Mr. Harris,or if he could not come, for some other advice,when the former--but not till after five o'clock--arrived.His opinion, however, made some little amends for his delay,for though acknowledging a very unexpected and unpleasantalteration in his patient, he would not allow the dangerto be material, and talked of the relief which a freshmode of treatment must procure, with a confidence which,in a lesser degree, was communicated to Elinor. He promisedto call again in the course of three or four hours,and left both the patient and her anxious attendant morecomposed than he had found them.With strong concern, and with many reproaches for notbeing called to their aid, did Mrs. Jennings hear in themorning of what had passed. Her former apprehensions,now with greater reason restored, left her no doubt ofthe event; and though trying to speak comfort to Elinor,her conviction of her sister's danger would not allow herto offer the comfort of hope. Her heart was really grieved.The rapid decay, the early death of a girl so young,so lovely as Marianne, must have struck a less interestedperson with concern. On Mrs. Jennings's compassionshe had other claims. She had been for three monthsher companion, was still under her care, and she wasknown to have been greatly injured, and long unhappy.The distress of her sister too, particularly a favourite,was before her;--and as for their mother, when Mrs. Jenningsconsidered that Marianne might probably be to her whatCharlotte was to herself, her sympathy in her sufferingswas very sincere.Mr. Harris was punctual in his second visit;--but he came to be disappointed in his hopes of what thelast would produce. His medicines had failed;--the feverwas unabated; and Marianne only more quiet--not moreherself--remained in a heavy stupor. Elinor, catching all,and more than all, his fears in a moment, proposed to callin further advice. But he judged it unnecessary: he hadstill something more to try, some more fresh application,of whose success he was as confident as the last, and hisvisit concluded with encouraging assurances which reachedthe ear, but could not enter the heart of Miss Dashwood.She was calm, except when she thought of her mother;but she was almost hopeless; and in this state she continuedtill noon, scarcely stirring from her sister's bed,her thoughts wandering from one image of grief,one suffering friend to another, and her spirits oppressedto the utmost by the conversation of Mrs. Jennings,who scrupled not to attribute the severity and dangerof this attack to the many weeks of previous indispositionwhich Marianne's disappointment had brought on.Elinor felt all the reasonableness of the idea, and itgave fresh misery to her reflections.About noon, however, she began--but with a caution--adread of disappointment which for some time kept her silent,even to her friend--to fancy, to hope she could perceivea slight amendment in her sister's pulse;--she waited,watched, and examined it again and again;--and at last,with an agitation more difficult to bury under exterior calmness,than all her foregoing distress, ventured to communicateher hopes. Mrs. Jennings, though forced, on examination,to acknowledge a temporary revival, tried to keep heryoung friend from indulging a thought of its continuance;--and Elinor, conning over every injunction of distrust,told herself likewise not to hope. But it was too late.Hope had already entered; and feeling all its anxious flutter,she bent over her sister to watch--she hardly knew for what.Half an hour passed away, and the favourable symptomyet blessed her. Others even arose to confirm it.Her breath, her skin, her lips, all flattered Elinorwith signs of amendment; and Marianne fixed her eyes onher with a rational, though languid, gaze. Anxiety andhope now oppressed her in equal degrees, and left her nomoment of tranquillity till the arrival of Mr. Harris atfour o'clock;--when his assurances, his felicitations ona recovery in her sister even surpassing his expectation,gave her confidence, comfort, and tears of joy.Marianne was in every respect materially better,and he declared her entirely out of danger. Mrs. Jennings,perhaps satisfied with the partial justification of herforebodings which had been found in their late alarm,allowed herself to trust in his judgment, and admitted,with unfeigned joy, and soon with unequivocal cheerfulness,the probability of an entire recovery.Elinor could not be cheerful. Her joy was of adifferent kind, and led to any thing rather than to gaiety.Marianne restored to life, health, friends, and to herdoting mother, was an idea to fill her heart with sensationsof exquisite comfort, and expand it in fervent gratitude;--but it lead to no outward demonstrations of joy, no words,no smiles. All within Elinor's breast was satisfaction,silent and strong.She continued by the side of her sister, with littleintermission the whole afternoon, calming every fear,satisfying every inquiry of her enfeebled spirits,supplying every succour, and watching almost every look andevery breath. The possibility of a relapse would of course,in some moments, occur to remind her of what anxiety was--but when she saw, on her frequent and minute examination,that every symptom of recovery continued, and saw Marianneat six o'clock sink into a quiet, steady, and to allappearance comfortable, sleep, she silenced every doubt.The time was now drawing on, when Colonel Brandonmight be expected back. At ten o'clock, she trusted,or at least not much later her mother would be relievedfrom the dreadful suspense in which she must now betravelling towards them. The Colonel, too!--perhaps scarcelyless an object of pityhow slow was the progressof time which yet kept them in ignorance!At seven o'clock, leaving Marianne still sweetly asleep,she joined Mrs. Jennings in the drawing-room to tea.Of breakfast she had been kept by her fears, and ofdinner by their sudden reverse, from eating much;--and the present refreshment, therefore, with such feelingsof content as she brought to it, was particularly welcome.Mrs. Jennings would have persuaded her, at its conclusion,to take some rest before her mother's arrival, and allow her totake her place by Marianne; but Elinor had no sense of fatigue,no capability of sleep at that moment about her, and she wasnot to be kept away from her sister an unnecessary instant.Mrs. Jennings therefore attending her up stairs into thesick chamber, to satisfy herself that all continued right,left her there again to her charge and her thoughts,and retired to her own room to write letters and sleep.The night was cold and stormy. The wind roaredround the house, and the rain beat against the windows;but Elinor, all happiness within, regarded it not.Marianne slept through every blast; and the travellers--they had a rich reward in store, for every present inconvenience.The clock struck eight. Had it been ten,Elinor would have been convinced that at that momentshe heard a carriage driving up to the house;and so strong was the persuasion that she did, in spiteof the almost impossibility of their being already come,that she moved into the adjoining dressing-closet andopened a window shutter, to be satisfied of the truth.She instantly saw that her ears had not deceived her.The flaring lamps of a carriage were immediately in view.By their uncertain light she thought she could discern itto be drawn by four horses; and this, while it told theexcess of her poor mother's alarm, gave some explanationto such unexpected rapidity.Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficultto be calm, as at that moment. The knowledge of what hermother must be feeling as the carriage stopt at the door--of her doubt--her dread--perhaps her despair!--andof what she had to tell!--with such knowledge it wasimpossible to be calm. All that remained to be donewas to be speedy; and, therefore staying only tillshe could leave Mrs. Jennings's maid with her sister,she hurried down stairs.The bustle in the vestibule, as she passed alongan inner lobby, assured her that they were alreadyin the house. She rushed to the drawing-room,--sheentered it,--and saw only Willoughby.