Chapter 49

by Jane Austen

　　Unaccountable, however, as the circumstances of hisrelease might appear to the whole family, it was certainthat Edward was free; and to what purpose that freedom wouldbe employed was easily pre-determined by all;--for afterexperiencing the blessings of one imprudent engagement,contracted without his mother's consent, as he had alreadydone for more than four years, nothing less could be expectedof him in the failure of that, than the immediate contractionof another.His errand at Barton, in fact, was a simple one.It was only to ask Elinor to marry him;--and consideringthat he was not altogether inexperienced in such a question,it might be strange that he should feel so uncomfortablein the present case as he really did, so much in need ofencouragement and fresh air.How soon he had walked himself into the properresolution, however, how soon an opportunity of exercisingit occurred, in what manner he expressed himself,and how he was received, need not be particularly told.This only need be said;--that when they all sat down totable at four o'clock, about three hours after his arrival,he had secured his lady, engaged her mother's consent,and was not only in the rapturous profession ofthe lover, but, in the reality of reason and truth,one of the happiest of men. His situation indeed wasmore than commonly joyful. He had more than the ordinarytriumph of accepted love to swell his heart, and raisehis spirits. He was released without any reproachto himself, from an entanglement which had long formedhis misery, from a woman whom he had long ceased to love;--and elevated at once to that security with another,which he must have thought of almost with despair,as soon as he had learnt to consider it with desire.He was brought, not from doubt or suspense, but frommisery to happiness;--and the change was openly spokenin such a genuine, flowing, grateful cheerfulness,as his friends had never witnessed in him before.His heart was now open to Elinor, all its weaknesses,all its errors confessed, and his first boyish attachmentto Lucy treated with all the philosophic dignity of twenty-four."It was a foolish, idle inclination on my side,"said he, "the consequence of ignorance of the world--and want of employment. Had my brother given mesome active profession when I was removed at eighteenfrom the care of Mr. Pratt, I think--nay, I am sure,it would never have happened; for though I left Longstaplewith what I thought, at the time, a most unconquerablepreference for his niece, yet had I then had any pursuit,any object to engage my time and keep me at a distancefrom her for a few months, I should very soon haveoutgrown the fancied attachment, especially by mixingmore with the world, as in such case I must have done.But instead of having any thing to do, instead of having anyprofession chosen for me, or being allowed to chuse any myself,I returned home to be completely idle; and for the firsttwelvemonth afterwards I had not even the nominal employment,which belonging to the university would have given me;for I was not entered at Oxford till I was nineteen.I had therefore nothing in the world to do, but to fancymyself in love; and as my mother did not make my homein every respect comfortable, as I had no friend,no companion in my brother, and disliked new acquaintance,it was not unnatural for me to be very often at Longstaple,where I always felt myself at home, and was always sureof a welcome; and accordingly I spent the greatest partof my time there from eighteen to nineteen: Lucy appearedeverything that was amiable and obliging. She was prettytoo--at least I thought so then; and I had seen so littleof other women, that I could make no comparisons, and seeno defects. Considering everything, therefore, I hope,foolish as our engagement was, foolish as it has sincein every way been proved, it was not at the time an unnaturalor an inexcusable piece of folly."The change which a few hours had wrought in the mindsand the happiness of the Dashwoods, was such--so great--aspromised them all, the satisfaction of a sleepless night.Mrs. Dashwood, too happy to be comfortable, knew not howto love Edward, nor praise Elinor enough, how to be enoughthankful for his release without wounding his delicacy,nor how at once to give them leisure for unrestrainedconversation together, and yet enjoy, as she wished,the sight and society of both.Marianne could speak her happiness only by tears.Comparisons would occur--regrets would arise;--and her joy,though sincere as her love for her sister, was of a kind togive her neither spirits nor language.But Elinor--how are her feelings to be described?--Fromthe moment of learning that Lucy was married to another,that Edward was free, to the moment of his justifyingthe hopes which had so instantly followed, she was everything by turns but tranquil. But when the second momenthad passed, when she found every doubt, every solicituderemoved, compared her situation with what so lately ithad been,--saw him honourably released from his formerengagement, saw him instantly profiting by the release,to address herself and declare an affection as tender,as constant as she had ever supposed it to be,--shewas oppressed, she was overcome by her own felicity;--and happily disposed as is the human mind to be easilyfamiliarized with any change for the better, it requiredseveral hours to give sedateness to her spirits, or anydegree of tranquillity to her heart.Edward was now fixed at the cottage at least fora week;--for whatever other claims might be made on him,it was impossible that less than a week should be givenup to the enjoyment of Elinor's company, or sufficeto say half that was to be said of the past, the present,and the future;--for though a very few hours spent inthe hard labor of incessant talking will despatch moresubjects than can really be in common between any tworational creatures, yet with lovers it is different.Between them no subject is finished, no communicationis even made, till it has been made at least twentytimes over.Lucy's marriage, the unceasing and reasonable wonderamong them all, formed of course one of the earliestdiscussions of the lovers;--and Elinor's particular knowledgeof each party made it appear to her in every view, as oneof the most extraordinary and unaccountable circumstancesshe had ever heard. How they could be thrown together,and by what attraction Robert could be drawn on to marrya girl, of whose beauty she had herself heard him speakwithout any admiration,--a girl too already engagedto his brother, and on whose account that brother had beenthrown off by his family--it was beyond her comprehensionto make out. To her own heart it was a delightful affair,to her imagination it was even a ridiculous one, butto her reason, her judgment, it was completely a puzzle.Edward could only attempt an explanation by supposing,that, perhaps, at first accidentally meeting, the vanityof the one had been so worked on by the flatteryof the other, as to lead by degrees to all the rest.Elinor remembered what Robert had told her in Harley Street,of his opinion of what his own mediation in his brother'saffairs might have done, if applied to in time.She repeated it to Edward."That was exactly like Robert,"--was his immediateobservation.--"And that," he presently added, "mightperhaps be in his head when the acquaintance betweenthem first began. And Lucy perhaps at first mightthink only of procuring his good offices in my favour.Other designs might afterward arise."How long it had been carrying on between them,however, he was equally at a loss with herself to make out;for at Oxford, where he had remained for choice ever sincehis quitting London, he had had no means of hearing of herbut from herself, and her letters to the very last wereneither less frequent, nor less affectionate than usual.Not the smallest suspicion, therefore, had ever occurredto prepare him for what followed;--and when at last itburst on him in a letter from Lucy herself, he had beenfor some time, he believed, half stupified betweenthe wonder, the horror, and the joy of such a deliverance.He put the letter into Elinor's hands. "Dear Sir,"Being very sure I have long lost your affections,I have thought myself at liberty to bestow my ownon another, and have no doubt of being as happy withhim as I once used to think I might be with you;but I scorn to accept a hand while the heart wasanother's. Sincerely wish you happy in your choice,and it shall not be my fault if we are not alwaysgood friends, as our near relationship now makesproper. I can safely say I owe you no ill-will,and am sure you will be too generous to do us anyill offices. Your brother has gained my affectionsentirely, and as we could not live without oneanother, we are just returned from the altar, andare now on our way to Dawlish for a few weeks, whichplace your dear brother has great curiosity to see,but thought I would first trouble you with thesefew lines, and shall always remain,"Your sincere well-wisher, friend, and sister,"Lucy Ferrars."I have burnt all your letters, and will returnyour picture the first opportunity. Please to destroymy scrawls--but the ring with my hair you are verywelcome to keep."Elinor read and returned it without any comment."I will not ask your opinion of it as a composition,"said Edward.--"For worlds would not I have had a letterof hers seen by you in former days.--In a sister itis bad enough, but in a wife!--how I have blushed overthe pages of her writing!--and I believe I may say thatsince the first half year of our foolish--business--thisis the only letter I ever received from her, of whichthe substance made me any amends for the defect of the style.""However it may have come about," said Elinor,after a pause,--"they are certainly married. And your motherhas brought on herself a most appropriate punishment.The independence she settled on Robert, through resentmentagainst you, has put it in his power to make his own choice;and she has actually been bribing one son with a thousanda-year, to do the very deed which she disinherited theother for intending to do. She will hardly be less hurt,I suppose, by Robert's marrying Lucy, than she would havebeen by your marrying her.""She will be more hurt by it, for Robert alwayswas her favourite.--She will be more hurt by it,and on the same principle will forgive him much sooner."In what state the affair stood at present between them,Edward knew not, for no communication with any of his familyhad yet been attempted by him. He had quitted Oxfordwithin four and twenty hours after Lucy's letter arrived,and with only one object before him, the nearest roadto Barton, had had no leisure to form any scheme of conduct,with which that road did not hold the most intimate connection.He could do nothing till he were assured of his fate withMiss Dashwood; and by his rapidity in seeking that fate,it is to be supposed, in spite of the jealousy withwhich he had once thought of Colonel Brandon, in spiteof the modesty with which he rated his own deserts,and the politeness with which he talked of his doubts,he did not, upon the whole, expect a very cruel reception.It was his business, however, to say that he did, and hesaid it very prettily. What he might say on the subjecta twelvemonth after, must be referred to the imaginationof husbands and wives.That Lucy had certainly meant to deceive, to go offwith a flourish of malice against him in her messageby Thomas, was perfectly clear to Elinor; and Edward himself,now thoroughly enlightened on her character, had noscruple in believing her capable of the utmost meannessof wanton ill-nature. Though his eyes had been long opened,even before his acquaintance with Elinor began, to herignorance and a want of liberality in some of her opinions--they had been equally imputed, by him, to her wantof education; and till her last letter reached him,he had always believed her to be a well-disposed,good-hearted girl, and thoroughly attached to himself.Nothing but such a persuasion could have preventedhis putting an end to an engagement, which, long beforethe discovery of it laid him open to his mother's anger,had been a continual source of disquiet and regret to him."I thought it my duty," said he, "independent of my feelings,to give her the option of continuing the engagement or not,when I was renounced by my mother, and stood to allappearance without a friend in the world to assist me.In such a situation as that, where there seemed nothingto tempt the avarice or the vanity of any living creature,how could I suppose, when she so earnestly, so warmly insistedon sharing my fate, whatever it might be, that any thingbut the most disinterested affection was her inducement?And even now, I cannot comprehend on what motive she acted,or what fancied advantage it could be to her, to befettered to a man for whom she had not the smallest regard,and who had only two thousand pounds in the world.She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give me aliving.""No; but she might suppose that something would occurin your favour; that your own family might in time relent.And at any rate, she lost nothing by continuing the engagement,for she has proved that it fettered neither her inclinationnor her actions. The connection was certainly arespectable one, and probably gained her consideration amongher friends; and, if nothing more advantageous occurred,it would be better for her to marry you than be single."Edward was, of course, immediately convinced thatnothing could have been more natural than Lucy's conduct,nor more self-evident than the motive of it.Elinor scolded him, harshly as ladies always scoldthe imprudence which compliments themselves, for havingspent so much time with them at Norland, when he musthave felt his own inconstancy."Your behaviour was certainly very wrong," said she;"because--to say nothing of my own conviction, our relationswere all led away by it to fancy and expect what, as youwere then situated, could never be."He could only plead an ignorance of his own heart,and a mistaken confidence in the force of his engagement."I was simple enough to think, that because my faithwas plighted to another, there could be no danger in my beingwith you; and that the consciousness of my engagement wasto keep my heart as safe and sacred as my honour. I feltthat I admired you, but I told myself it was only friendship;and till I began to make comparisons between yourselfand Lucy, I did not know how far I was got. After that,I suppose, I was wrong in remaining so much in Sussex,and the arguments with which I reconciled myself to theexpediency of it, were no better than these:--The dangeris my own; I am doing no injury to anybody but myself."Elinor smiled, and shook her head.Edward heard with pleasure of Colonel Brandon'sbeing expected at the Cottage, as he really wishednot only to be better acquainted with him, but to have anopportunity of convincing him that he no longer resentedhis giving him the living of Delaford--"Which, at present,"said he, "after thanks so ungraciously delivered as minewere on the occasion, he must think I have never forgivenhim for offering."Now he felt astonished himself that he had never yetbeen to the place. But so little interest had be takenin the matter, that he owed all his knowledge of the house,garden, and glebe, extent of the parish, condition ofthe land, and rate of the tithes, to Elinor herself,who had heard so much of it from Colonel Brandon,and heard it with so much attention, as to be entirelymistress of the subject.One question after this only remained undecided,between them, one difficulty only was to be overcome.They were brought together by mutual affection,with the warmest approbation of their real friends;their intimate knowledge of each other seemed to maketheir happiness certain--and they only wanted somethingto live upon. Edward had two thousand pounds, and Elinorone, which, with Delaford living, was all that they couldcall their own; for it was impossible that Mrs. Dashwoodshould advance anything; and they were neither of themquite enough in love to think that three hundred and fiftypounds a-year would supply them with the comforts of life.Edward was not entirely without hopes of somefavourable change in his mother towards him; and on thathe rested for the residue of their income. But Elinorhad no such dependence; for since Edward would stillbe unable to marry Miss Morton, and his chusing herselfhad been spoken of in Mrs. Ferrars's flattering languageas only a lesser evil than his chusing Lucy Steele,she feared that Robert's offence would serve no otherpurpose than to enrich Fanny.About four days after Edward's arrival ColonelBrandon appeared, to complete Mrs. Dashwood's satisfaction,and to give her the dignity of having, for the first timesince her living at Barton, more company with her thanher house would hold. Edward was allowed to retain theprivilege of first comer, and Colonel Brandon thereforewalked every night to his old quarters at the Park;from whence he usually returned in the morning, early enoughto interrupt the lovers' first tete-a-tete before breakfast.A three weeks' residence at Delaford, where,in his evening hours at least, he had little to dobut to calculate the disproportion between thirty-sixand seventeen, brought him to Barton in a temper of mindwhich needed all the improvement in Marianne's looks,all the kindness of her welcome, and all the encouragementof her mother's language, to make it cheerful.Among such friends, however, and such flattery, he did revive.No rumour of Lucy's marriage had yet reached him:--he knewnothing of what had passed; and the first hours of hisvisit were consequently spent in hearing and in wondering.Every thing was explained to him by Mrs. Dashwood,and he found fresh reason to rejoice in what he had donefor Mr. Ferrars, since eventually it promoted the interestof Elinor.It would be needless to say, that the gentlemen advancedin the good opinion of each other, as they advanced in eachother's acquaintance, for it could not be otherwise.Their resemblance in good principles and good sense,in disposition and manner of thinking, would probablyhave been sufficient to unite them in friendship,without any other attraction; but their being in lovewith two sisters, and two sisters fond of each other,made that mutual regard inevitable and immediate,which might otherwise have waited the effect of timeand judgment.The letters from town, which a few days before wouldhave made every nerve in Elinor's body thrill with transport,now arrived to be read with less emotion that mirth.Mrs. Jennings wrote to tell the wonderful tale, to vent herhonest indignation against the jilting girl, and pour forthher compassion towards poor Mr. Edward, who, she was sure,had quite doted upon the worthless hussy, and was now,by all accounts, almost broken-hearted, at Oxford.--"I do think," she continued, "nothing was ever carriedon so sly; for it was but two days before Lucy calledand sat a couple of hours with me. Not a soul suspectedanything of the matter, not even Nancy, who, poor soul!came crying to me the day after, in a great frightfor fear of Mrs. Ferrars, as well as not knowing how toget to Plymouth; for Lucy it seems borrowed all hermoney before she went off to be married, on purposewe suppose to make a show with, and poor Nancy had notseven shillings in the world;--so I was very glad to giveher five guineas to take her down to Exeter, where shethinks of staying three or four weeks with Mrs. Burgess,in hopes, as I tell her, to fall in with the Doctor again.And I must say that Lucy's crossness not to take themalong with them in the chaise is worse than all.Poor Mr. Edward! I cannot get him out of my head, but youmust send for him to Barton, and Miss Marianne must try tocomfort him."Mr. Dashwood's strains were more solemn.Mrs. Ferrars was the most unfortunate of women--poorFanny had suffered agonies of sensibility--and heconsidered the existence of each, under such a blow,with grateful wonder. Robert's offence was unpardonable,but Lucy's was infinitely worse. Neither of them wereever again to be mentioned to Mrs. Ferrars; and even,if she might hereafter be induced to forgive her son,his wife should never be acknowledged as her daughter,nor be permitted to appear in her presence. The secrecywith which everything had been carried on between them,was rationally treated as enormously heighteningthe crime, because, had any suspicion of it occurredto the others, proper measures would have been takento prevent the marriage; and he called on Elinor to joinwith him in regretting that Lucy's engagement with Edwardhad not rather been fulfilled, than that she should thusbe the means of spreading misery farther in the family.--He thus continued:"Mrs. Ferrars has never yet mentioned Edward's name,which does not surprise us; but, to our great astonishment,not a line has been received from him on the occasion.Perhaps, however, he is kept silent by his fear of offending,and I shall, therefore, give him a hint, by a lineto Oxford, that his sister and I both think a letterof proper submission from him, addressed perhaps to Fanny,and by her shewn to her mother, might not be taken amiss;for we all know the tenderness of Mrs. Ferrars's heart,and that she wishes for nothing so much as to be on good termswith her children."This paragraph was of some importance to theprospects and conduct of Edward. It determined himto attempt a reconciliation, though not exactlyin the manner pointed out by their brother and sister."A letter of proper submission!" repeated he;"would they have me beg my mother's pardon for Robert'singratitude to her, and breach of honour to me?--I canmake no submission--I am grown neither humble norpenitent by what has passed.--I am grown very happy;but that would not interest.--I know of no submissionthat is proper for me to make.""You may certainly ask to be forgiven," said Elinor,"because you have offended;--and I should think youmight now venture so far as to profess some concernfor having ever formed the engagement which drew on youyour mother's anger."He agreed that he might."And when she has forgiven you, perhaps a little humilitymay be convenient while acknowledging a second engagement,almost as imprudent in her eyes as the first."He had nothing to urge against it, but stillresisted the idea of a letter of proper submission;and therefore, to make it easier to him, as he declareda much greater willingness to make mean concessionsby word of mouth than on paper, it was resolved that,instead of writing to Fanny, he should go to London,and personally intreat her good offices in his favour.--"And if they really do interest themselves," said Marianne,in her new character of candour, "in bringing abouta reconciliation, I shall think that even John and Fannyare not entirely without merit."After a visit on Colonel Brandon's side of only threeor four days, the two gentlemen quitted Barton together.--They were to go immediately to Delaford, that Edwardmight have some personal knowledge of his future home,and assist his patron and friend in deciding on whatimprovements were needed to it; and from thence,after staying there a couple of nights, he was to proceedon his journey to town.