11 Soothing Storytelling: Sense And Sensibility

This is an extended guided reading track with the soothing voice of Stephanie Poppins. This is an authentic English Voice. The first seven chapters of Sense and Sensibility run back to back for over an hour.

In Georgian-era England, the wealthy Mr. Dashwood dies, leaving his second wife and three daughters destitute. The ladies move to a modest cottage where the two older daughters vie for the attention of various suitors in search of true love.

Chapters 47,48,49,50
These are the concluding chapters of Jane Austen's story.

All rights reserved. Individual use only. Copyright Neworld Books Ltd.
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Written by S D Hudson
Performed by Stephanie Poppins

Published by Neworld Books

Transcript

Chapter 47 Mrs Dashwood did not hear unmoved the vindication of her former favourite. She rejoiced in his being cleared from some part of his imputed guilt. But the feelings of the past could not be recalled. Nothing could restore him, With a faith unbroken, A character unblemished, To Marianne. Nothing could replace him therefore in her former esteem, Nor injure the interests of Colonel Brandt. In the evening when they were all three together, Marianne began voluntarily to speak of him again. But that it was not without an effort. The restless, Unquiet thoughtfulness in which he had been for some time previously sitting Her rise in colour as she spoke and her unsteady voice plainly showed. I wish to assure you both. Said she, That I see everything as you can desire me to do. It is a great relief to me. I have now heard exactly what I wish to hear. I am now perfectly satisfied. I wish for no change. I could never have been happy with him. After knowing, As soon or later I must have known. All this. I know it. I know it. Cried her mother. Happy with a man of libertine practices? No, My Marianne has not a heart to be made happy with such a man. Marianne sighed and repeated, I wish for no change. You consider the matter, Said Elena, Exactly as a good mind and a sound understanding must consider it. And I dare say you perceive reason enough to be convinced that your marriage must have involved you in many certain troubles and disappointments, In which you would have been made poorly supported by an affection on his side. Much less certain. Had you married, You must have been always poor. His demands and your inexperience, Together, On a small, Very small income, Must have brought on distresses which would not be the less grievous to you from having been entirely unknown and unthought of before. Your sense of honour and honesty would have led you, I know. When aware of your situation. To attempt all the economy that would appear to be possible. And perhaps as long as your frugality retrenched only on your own comfort. You might have been suffered to practice it. But beyond that, Had you endeavoured however reasonably to abridge his enjoyments, It is not to be feared that, Instead of prevailing on feelings so selfish, You would have lessened your own influence on his heart and made him regret the connection which had involved him in such difficulty. Marianne's lips quivered and she repeated the word selfish in a tone that implied Do you really think he's selfish? The whole of his behaviour, Replied Eleanor, From the beginning to the end of the affair has been grounded on selfishness. His own enjoyment or his own ease was his ruling principle. It is very true. Should marry Anne. My happiness never was his object. At present, Continued Eleanor, He regrets what he's done. And why does he regret it? Because he finds it has not made him happy. He thinks only that he's married a woman of less amiable temper than yourself. But does it thence follow that had he married you he would have been happy? He would have had a wife. Whose temper he could make no complaint. But he would have always been necessitous, Always poor, And probably would soon have learnt to rank the innumerable comforts of a clear estate and good income as of far more importance, Even to domestic happiness, Than the mere temper of a wife. I have not a doubt of it. Said Marianne, And I have nothing to regret, Nothing but my own folly. Rather say your mother's in prudence, My child. Said Mrs Dashwood. She must be answerable. Marianne would not let her proceed, And Eleanor, Satisfied that each felt their own error, Wished to avoid any survey of the past that might weaken her sister's spirits. She therefore, Pursuing the first subject, Immediately continued. One observation may, I think, Be fairly drawn from the whole of the story. That all Willoughby's difficulties have arisen from the first offence against virtue in his behaviour to Eliza Williams. Marianne ascended most feelingly to the remarks. And her mother was led by it to an enumeration of Colonel Brandon's injuries and merits. Warm as friendship and design could unitedly dictate. Her daughter did not look, However, As if much of it were heard by her. Eleanor grew impatient for some tidings of Edward. Some letters had passed between her and her brother in consequence of Marianne's illness. And in the first of John's there had been this sentence. We know nothing of our unfortunate Edward and can make no inquiries on so prohibited a subject, But conclude him still to be at Oxford. Which was all the intelligence of Edward afforded her by the correspondence. Eleanor was not doomed, However, To be in long ignorance of this measure. Their manservant had been sent one morning to Exeter on business. And whence he waited at table he had satisfied the enquiries of his mistress as to the event of his errand. This was his voluntary communication. I suppose you know, Ma'am. That missed Ferris. Is married. Marianne gave a violent start, Fixed her eyes upon Elena. Saw her turning pale and fell back in her chair in hysterics. Mrs Dashwood had intuitively looked in the same direction, Was shocked to perceive by Eleanor's countenance how much she really suffered, And knew not on which child to bestow her principal attention. The servant had sense enough to call one of the maids, Who, With Mrs Dashwood's assistance, Supported Marianne into the other room. By that time, Marianne was rather better, And her mother returned to Eleanor, Who, Though still much disordered, Had so far recovered the use of her reason and voice as to be just beginning an inquiry of Thomas as to the source of his intelligence. Mrs Dashwood immediately took all that trouble on herself. Who told you that Mr Ferris was married, Thomas? I saw Mr Ferrer's myself, Ma'am, This morning in Exeter, And his lady too. Mysterious was. They were stopping in a chaise at the door of the New London Inn. I saw directly it was the youngest Miss Steele, So I took off my hat and she knew me and called to me and inquired after you, Ma'am, And the young ladies, Especially Miss Marianne. And bid me I should give her compliments and Mr Ferris, And how sorry they was I had not time to come on and see you, But they was in a great hurry to go forwards. But did she tell you that she was married, Thomas? Yes, Ma'am. She smiled and said how she had changed her name since she was in these parts. Was Mr. Ferrars in the carriage with her? Yes, Mom. I just see him leaning back in it, But he didn't look up. He never was a gentleman much for talking. Was there no one else in the carriage? No ma'am, Only those two. Do you know where they came from? They came straight from town, As Miss Lucy, Mrs Ferrer's, Told me. And are going further westward. Yes mum, But not to bide long. They will soon be back again and then they'll be sure and cool here. Mrs Dashwood now looked at her daughter. But Eleanor knew better than to expect them. She recognised the whole of Lucy in the message and was very confident. That Edward would never come near them again. Thomas's intelligence seemed over. Eleanor looked as if she wished to hear more. Did Miss Ferrars look well? Yes mum, She said how she was very well. Mrs Dashwood could think of no other question. Marianne had already sent to say she should eat nothing more. Mrs Dashwood's and Eleanor's appetites were equally lost, And Margaret might think herself very well off, That with so much uneasiness, As both her sisters had lately experienced, So much reason, As they had often had to be careless of their meals, She had never been obliged to go without her dinner before. When the dessert and the wine were arranged and Mrs Dashwood and Eleanor were left by themselves, They remained long together in a similarity of thoughtfulness and silence. Mrs Dashwood found she had erred in relying on Eleanor's representation of herself, And justly concluded that everything had been expressly softened at the time. To spare her from an increase of unhappiness, Suffering as she then had suffered for Marianne. She found she had been misled by the careful, The considerate attention of her daughter, To think the attachment, Which once she had so well understood, Much slighter in reality than she had been wont to believe. Or than it was now proved to be. She feared that under this persuasion she had been unjust, Inattentive nay, Almost unkind to her Eleanor. That Marianne's affliction, Because more acknowledged, More immediately before her, Had too much engrossed her tenderness, And led her to forget that in Eleanor, She might have a daughter suffering almost as much. Certainly with less self-provocation. And greater fortitude. Chapter 48 Ellen had now found, In spite of herself, She had always admitted a hope. While Edward remained single. That something would occur to prevent his marrying Lucy. But now he was married, And she condemned her heart for the lurking flattery which so much heightened the pain of the intelligence. That he should be married so soon, Before he could be in orders. And consequently before he could be in the possession of the living surprised her a little bit at first But she soon saw how likely it was that Lucy should overlook everything but the risk of delay. They were married. Married in town and now hastening down to her uncle's. What had Edward felt on being within four miles of Barton, On seeing her mother's servant, On hearing Lucy's message? They would soon, She supposed, Be settled at Delaford. She saw them in an instant in their parsonage house. Saw in Lucy the active, Contriving manager uniting at once a desire of smart appearance with the utmost frugality. Pursuing her own interest in every thought, Courting the favour of Colonel Brandon, Of Mrs Jennings, And every wealthy friend. In Edward, She knew not what she saw nor what she wished to see. She turned away her head from every sketch of him. Eleanor flattered herself that someone of their connections in London would write to them to announce the event and give further particulars. But day after day he passed off and brought no letter and no tidings. When do you write, Sir Colonel Brandon Marks? Was an inquiry which sprang from the impatience of her mind to have something going on. I wrote to him last week, My love. I earnestly pressed his coming to us and should not be surprised to see him walking today or tomorrow or any other day. This was gaining something, Something to look forward to. Colonel Brandon must have some information to give. Scarcely had Eleanor so determined it. When a figure of a man on horseback drew her eyes to the window. He stopped at their gate. It was a gentleman. But it was not Colonel Brandon. Neither his air nor his height. Were it possible? She should say it must be Edward. She looked again. It was Edward. She moved away and sat down. He comes from Mr. Pratt's purposely to see us. I will be calm. I will be mistress of myself. Eleanor saw her mother and Marianne change colour. She saw them look at herself and whisper a few sentences to each other. She would have given the world to be able to make them understand that she hoped no coolness, No slight would appear in their behavior to him. But she had no utterance and was obliged to leave all to their own discretion. They all waited in silence for the appearance of their visitor. His footsteps were heard along the gravel path. And in a moment. . . He was before them. His countenance as he entered the room was not too happy. Even for Eleanor. His complexion was white with agitation and he looked as if fearful of his reception. Mrs Dashwood, However, Conforming as she trusted to the wishes of that daughter, By whom then meant in the warmth of her heart to be guided in everything, Gave him her hand and wished him joy. He coloured and stammered out an unintelligible reply. Eleanor's lips had moved with her mother's. When the moment of action was over, She wished she had shaken hands with him too. But it was then too late. And with accountants meaning to be open. She sat down again. And talked of the weather. When Eleanor had ceased to rejoice in the dryness of the season, A very awful pause took place. But it was put an end to by Mrs Dashwood who felt obliged to hope he had left Mrs Ferrars very well. In a hurried manner. Edward replied in the affirmative. Eleanor, Resolving to exert herself, Though fearing the sound of her own voice, Now said, Is Mrs Ferris at Longstaple? At Longstaple He replied with an air of surprise. No, My mother is in town. I meant, " said Eleanor, To inquire after Mrs. Edward Ferrars. She dared not look up, But her mother and Marianne both turned her eyes on him. He coloured. Seem perplexed. Looked doubtingly. And after some hesitation said Perhaps you mean my brother. You mean. . . Mrs. Robert Ferrars. Mrs. Robert Ferrars? Was repeated by Marianne and her mother in an accent of the utmost amazement. And though Eleanor could not speak, Even her eyes were fixed on him with the same impatient wonder. Perhaps you do not know. You may not have heard. My brother is lately married to Miss Lucy Steele. Edward's words were echoed with unspeakable astonishment. By all but Eleanor, Who sat with her head leaning over her work in a state of such agitation as made her hardly know where she was. Yes. Said he. They were married last week and are now at Dawlish. Eleanor could sit it no longer. She almost ran out of the room and burst into tears of joy. Edward, Who had until then looked anywhere other than at her, Saw her hurry away, And perhaps saw or even heard her emotion, For immediately afterwards he fell into a reverie. And at last, Without saying a word, Quitted the room and walked out towards the village, Leaving the others in the greatest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his situation, So wonderful and so sudden. A perplexity which they had no means of lessening, But by their own conjectures. Chapter 49 Unaccountable, However, Is the circumstances of his release might appear to the whole family. It was certain that Edward was free. His errand at Barton, In fact, Was a simple one. It was only to ask Eleanor to marry him. And considering he was not altogether inexperienced in such a question, It might be strange that he should feel so uncomfortable in the present cases he really did. So much in need of encouragement and fresher air. How soon he had walked himself into the proper resolution, However, 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 to table at four o'clock about three hours later. He had secured his lady, Engaged her mother's consent. And was one of the happiest of men. Edward was released without any reproach to himself from an entanglement which had long formed his misery. From a woman who 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. His heart was now open to Eleanor. All its weaknesses, Its errors confessed, And his first boyish attachment to Lucy treated with all the philosophic dignity of 24. It was a foolish, Idle inclination on my side. 13. Had my mother given me some active profession when I was removed at 18 from the care of Mr Pratt? I think it would never have happened, For although I left Longstable with what I thought at the time a most unconquerable preference for his niece, Yet had I then had any pursuit, Any object to engage my time and keep me at a distance from her. . . I should have very soon outgrown the fancy detachment. I returned home to be completely idle, For I was not entered at Oxford until I was 19. I had therefore nothing in the world to do but fancy myself in love. And as I had no friend, No companion in my brother, And disliked new acquaintance. It was not natural for me to be very often at Longstaple, Where I always felt myself at home. Considering everything, Therefore, I hope. Foolish as our engagement was. Foolish as it has since been in every way. It was not at the time an unnatural or inexcusable piece of folly. The change which a few hours had wrought in the minds and happiness of the Dashwoods was such So very great. As promised them all the satisfaction of a sleepless night. Mrs Dashwood, Too happy to be comfortable, Knew not how to love Edward, Nor praise Eleanor enough. 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 to give her neither spirits nor language. But Eleanor. How were her feelings to be described? From the moment of learning that Lucy was married to another. And that Edward was free to the moment of his justifying the hopes which had so instantly followed. She was everything by turns, But tranquil. But when the second moment had passed, And when she found every doubt, Every solicitude removed, When she saw him honorably released from his former engagement to address herself and declare an affection as tender, As constant as she had ever supposed it to be. She was overcome by her own felicity. Edward was now fixed at the cottage at least for a week. For whatever other claims might be made on him, It was impossible that less than a week should be given up to the enjoyment of Eleanor's company. Or suffice to say half that was to be said, The past, The present. And the future. Lucy's marriage and Eleanor's particular knowledge of each party made it appear to her in every view as one of the most extraordinary and unaccountable circumstances she had ever heard. How could they be thrown together? And by what attraction Robert could be drawn on to marry a girl of whose beauty she had herself heard him speak without any admiration. A girl or two already engaged to his brother. And on whose account that brother had been thrown off by his family. It was beyond her comprehension to make out. Edward could only attempt an explanation by supposing that perhaps, At first accidentally meeting, The vanity of the one had been so worked on by the flatter of the other. As to lead by degrees to all the rest. Eleanor remembered what Robert had taught her in Harley Street, Of his opinion of what his own meditation in his brother's affairs might have done if applied in time. She repeated it to Edward. That was exactly like Robert, Was his immediate observation, And that he presently added, Might perhaps be in his head when the acquaintance between them first began. How long it had been carrying on between them, However! Edward was equally at a loss with herself to make out. For at Oxford, Where he had remained by choice ever since his quitting London, He had had no means of hearing of her but from herself, And her letters to the very last were neither less frequent nor less affectionate than usual. When at last it burst on him in a letter from Lucy herself. He had been for some time, He believed, Half stupefied between the wonder, The horror, And the joy of such a deliverance. He put the letter into Eleanor's hands. To you soon. It's safe. Being very sure I have long lost your affections, I have thought myself at liberty to bestow my own on another. And I have no doubt of being as happy with him as I once used to think I might be with you. But I scorned to accept a hand while the heart was another's. I can safely say I owe you no ill will, And I'm sure you'll be too generous to do us any ill offices. Your brother has gained my affections entirely. And as we could not live without one another, We have just returned from the altar and are now on our way to Dawlish for a few weeks. Your sincere well-wisher. Friend. And sister. Lucy Ferris Eleanor read Lucy Ferrer's letter without any comment. I will not ask your opinion of it as a composition. Said Edward. In a sister it's bad enough, But in a wife. . . How I have blushed over the pages of her writing. And I believe I may say that since the first half year of our fouche business, This is the only letter I ever received from her of which the substance made me any amends for the defect of the style. However, It may have come about, Said Eleanor after a pause. They are certainly married. And your mother has brought on herself a most appropriate punishment. The independence she settled on Robert. Though resentment against you has put it in his power to make his own choice. And she has actually been bribing one's son with a thousand a year to do the very deed which she disinherited the other for intending to do. She will hardly be less hurt, I suppose, By Robert's marrying Lucy. Then she would have been by you marrying her. She will be more hurt by it. Say that word. For Robert always was her favourite. She will be more hurt by it and on the same principle will forgive him. Much sooner. Edward quitted Oxford within 4 and 20 hours after Lucy's letter arrived. And with only one object before him, The nearest road to Barton. Had had no leisure to form any scheme of conduct with which that row did not hold the most intimate connection. He could do nothing till he were assured of his fate. With Miss Eleanor Dashwood. That Lucy had certainly meant to deceive. To go off with a flourish of malice against him in her message by Thomas was perfectly clear to Eleanor. And Edward himself, Now thoroughly enlightened on her character, Had no scruple in believing her capable of the utmost meanness of wanton ill-nature. 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 prevented his putting an end to an engagement. Which long before the 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. 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 all appearance without a friend in the world to assist me. In such a situation as that. How could I suppose when she so earnestly and warmly insisted on sharing my fate, Whatever it might be? That anything but the most disinterested affection was her inducement. And even now I cannot comprehend on what motive she acted. To be fettered to a man for whom she had not the smallest regard and who had only £2, 000 in the world. She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give me a living. No, Said Eleanor. But you might suppose that your own family might in time relent. And anyway. She lost nothing by continuing the engagement. The connection was certainly a respectable one, And probably gained her consideration amongst her friends. And if nothing more, A plantation's occurred. It would be better for her to marry you than be single. Edward was of course immediately convinced that nothing could have been more natural than Lucy's conduct, Or more self-evident than the motive of it. Eleanor scolded him for having spent so much time with the MacMorland when he must have felt his own inconstancy. 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 faith was plighted to another, There could be no danger in my being with you. And that the consciousness of my engagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred as my honour. He said. I felt I admired you, But. . . I told myself it was only friendship. Until I began to make comparisons between yourself and Lucy, I did not know how far I was gone. After that, I suppose, I was wrong in remaining so much in Sussex. And the arguments with which I reconciled myself to the expediency of it were no better than these. The danger is my own. I am doing no injury to anybody but myself. Eleanor smiled and shook her head. Edward heard with pleasure of Colonel Brandon's being expected at the cottage, As he really wanted not only to be better acquainted with him, But to have an opportunity of convincing him that he no longer resented his giving him the living of Delaford. Now he felt astonished himself that he had never even been to the place. But so little interest had he taken in the matter that he owed all his knowledge of the house to Eleanor herself. Who had heard so much of it from Colonel Brandon and heard it with so much attention. As to be entirely mistress of the subject. One question after this only remained undecided. One difficulty only was to be overcome. They were brought together by mutual affection, With a warm misapprobation of their real friends, And they only wanted something to live upon. Edward had £2, 000 and Eleanor won. Which, With Delaford living, Was all they could call their own. And neither of them were quite enough in love to think that £350 a year would supply them with the comforts of life. Edward was not entirely without hopes of some favourable change in his mother towards him. But Eleanor had no such dependence. For since Edward would still be unable to marry Miss Morton, And his choosing herself had been spoken of in Mrs Ferris's flattering language as only a lesser evil than his choosing Lucy, She feared that Robert's offence would serve no other purpose than to enrich Fanny. About four days after Edward's arrival, Colonel Brandon appeared to complete Mrs Dashwood's satisfaction and give her the dignity of having more company with her than the house would hold. Edward was allowed to retain the privilege of first comer and Colonel Brandon therefore walked every night to his old quarters at the park. From whence he usually returned in the morning. A three weeks residence at Delaford brought him to Barton in a temper of mind which needed all the improvement in Marianne's looks, All the kindness of her welcome and all the encouragement of 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 knew nothing of what had passed, And the first hours of his visit were consequently spent in hearing and in wandering. It would be needless to say that the gentlemen advanced in the good opinion of each other, As they advanced in each other's acquaintance, For it could not be otherwise. Their resemblance in good principles and good sense would probably have been sufficient. To unite them in friendship. But their being in love with two sisters made that mutual regard inevitable. And immediate. The letters from town, Which a few days before would have made every nerve in Eleanor's body thrill with transport. Now arrive to be read with less emotion than mirth. Mrs Jennings wrote to tell the wonderful tale to vent her honest indignation against the jilting girl. And pour forth her 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. Mr Dashwood's strains were more solid. Mrs Ferrars was the most unfortunate of women. Robert's offence was unpardonable, But Lucy's infinitely worse. Neither of them was ever 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. He called on Eleanor to join with him in regretting that Lucy's engagement with Edward had not rather been fulfilled. Then that she should thus be the means of spreading misery further 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 line to Oxford that his sister and I both think a letter of proper submission from him addressed perhaps to Fanny. And by her shown to her mother. Might not be taken amiss, For we all know the tenderness of Mrs. Ferrars' heart. This paragraph was of some importance to the prospects and conduct of Edward. It's determined him to attempt a reconciliation, Though not exactly in 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's ingratitude to her, And breach of honour to me? I know of no submission that's proper for me to take. You may certainly ask to be forgiven, " said Eleanor. Because you have offended, And I should think you might now venture so far as to profess some concern for having ever formed the engagement which drew on you your mother's anger. Edward agreed that he might. And when she has forgiven you. . . Eleanor continued. Perhaps a little humility may be convenient while acknowledging a second engagement, Almost as imprudent in her eyes as the first. Edward had nothing to urge against it, But still resisted the idea of a letter of proper submission, And therefore, To make it easy to him, It was resolved that, Instead of writing to Fanny, He should go to London and personally entreat her good offices in his favour. After a visit on Colonel Brandon's side of only three or four days, The two gentlemen quitted Barton together. They were to go immediately to Delaford, That Edward might have some personal knowledge of his future home. And from thence, After staying there a couple of nights, He was to proceed on his journey. To town. Chapter 50 After a proper resistance on the part of Mrs Ferrars, Just so violent and so steady as to preserve her from their reproach of being too amiable, Edward was admitted to her presence and pronounced to be again her son. In spite of his being allowed once more to live, However, He did not feel the continuance of his existence secure till he had revealed his present engagement. With apprehensive caution, Therefore, It was revealed. . . And he was listened to with unexpected calmness. Mrs Ferrars at first reasonably endeavoured to dissuade him from marrying Miss Dashwood by every argument in her power. Told him that in Miss Morton he would have a woman of higher rank and larger fortune. But when she found out, Though perfectly admitting the truth of her representation, He was by no means inclined to being guided by it. She judged it wisest to submit, And therefore issued her decree of consent. To the marriage of Edward and Eleanor. What she would engage to do towards augmenting their income was next to be considered. And here it plainly appeared that though Edward was now her only son, He was by no means her eldest. For while Robert was inevitably endowed with £1, 000 a year, Not the smallest objection was made against Edward's taking orders for the sake of £250 at the utmost. Nor was anything promised either for the present or in the future. Beyond the £10, 000 which had been given with Fanny. It was as much, However, As was desired, And more than was expected by Edward and Eleanor. And Mrs Ferris herself. By her shuffling excuses, Seemed the only person surprised at her not giving more. With an income quite sufficient to their wants, Thus secure to them. They had nothing to wait for after Edward was in possession of the living. But the readiness of the house to which Colonel Brandon was making considerable improvements. And after waiting some time for their completion, Eleanor as usual broke through the first positive resolution of not marrying till everything was ready. And the ceremony took place in Barton Church early in the autumn. The first month after their marriage was spent with their friend at the mansion house, From whence they could superintend the progress of the parsonage, And direct everything as they liked on the spot. Mrs Jennings' prophecies, Though rather jumbled together, Were chiefly fulfilled. For she was able to visit Edward and his wife in their parsonage by Michaelmas. And she found in Eleanor and her husband one of the happiest couples in the world. They were visited on their first settling by almost all their relations and friends. Mrs Ferrars came to inspect the happiness which she was almost ashamed of having authorised, And even the Dashwoods were at the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them honour. I will not say I'm disappointed, My dear sister. Said John as they were walking together one morning before the gates of Delaford House. But I confess it would have given me great pleasure to call Colonel Brandon brother. His property here, His place, His house, Everything in such respectable and excellent condition. Though perhaps Marianne may not seem exactly the person to attract him. Yet I think it would be altogether advisable for you to have them now frequently staying with you. Whereas Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home. Nobody can tell what might happen. But though Mrs Ferrars did come to see them, They were never insulted by her real favour and preference. That was due to the folly of Robert and the cunning of his wife, And it was earned by them before many months had passed away. The selfish sagacity of the latter, Which had at first drawn Robert into the screen. Was the principal instrument of his deliverance from it. For her respectable humility, Assiduous attentions and endless flatteries, Reconciled Mrs Ferrars to his choice and re-established him completely in her family. The whole of Lucy's behaviour in the affair, And the prosperity which crowned it therefore, May be held forth as a most encouraging instance of what an earnest, Unceasing attention to self-interest will do in securing every advantage of fortune. With no other sacrifice than that of time and conscience. When Robert first sought her acquaintance and privately visited her in Barclay's buildings. It was only to persuade her to give up the engagement. As there could be nothing to overcome the affection of both, He naturally expected one or two interviews would settle the matter. In that point, However, And that only, He erred. For though Lucy soon gave him hopes that his eloquence would convince her in time. . . Another visit, Another conversation was always wanted to produce this conviction. His attendance was by this means secured. And the rest followed in course. Instead of talking of Edward, They came gradually to talk only of Robert. And in short, It became speedily evident to both he had entirely supplanted his brother. They passed some months in great happiness at Dawlish, And from thence returning to town, Procured the forgiveness of Mrs. Ferrars by the simple expedient of asking it. Which, At Lucy's instigation, Was adopted. Slowly Lucy became as necessary to Mrs Ferrars as either Robert or Fanny. And while Edward was never courtly forgiven for having once intended to marry her. . . And Eleanor, Though superior to her in fortune and birth, Was spoken of as an intruder. She was in everything considered and always openly acknowledged. To be a favourite child. Eleanor's marriage divided her as little from her family as could well be contrived, Without rendering the cottage at Barton entirely useless. For her mother and sisters spent much more than half their time with her. Mrs Dashwood was acting on motives of policy as well as pleasure in the frequency of her visits at Delaford. For her wish of bringing Marianne and Colonel Brandon together was hardly less earnest than rather more liberal than what John had expressed. It was now her darling object. Precious as was the company of her daughter to her, She desired nothing so much as to give up its constant enjoyment to her valued friend, And to see Marianne settled at the mansion house was equally the wish of Edward and Eleanor. With such a confederacy against her, With a knowledge so intimate of his goodness. What could she do? Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary feat. She was born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions. She was born to overcome an affection form so late in life as at 17. And with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship. Voluntarily to give her hand to another. And that other, A man who had suffered no less than herself under the event of a former attachment. Whom, Two years before, She had considered too old to be married. But so it was. Instead of falling a sacrifice to an irresistible passion as once she had fondly flattered herself with expecting. She now found herself at 19, Submitting to new attachments, Entering on new duties. Placed in a home. A wife. The mistress of a family and the patroness of a village. Colonel Brandon was now as happy as all those who best loved him believed he deserved to be. And that Marianne found her own happiness in forming his, Was equally the persuasion and delight of each observing friend. Marianne could never love by halves, And her whole heart became in time, As much devoted to her husband as it had once been to Willoughby. Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without a pang and his punishment was soon afterwards complete in the voluntary forgiveness of Mrs Smith. Who, By stating his marriage with a woman of character as a source of her clemency, Gave him reason for believing he had behaved with honour towards Marianne. He might at once have been happy and rich. That his repentance of misconduct, Which thus brought its own punishment, Was sincere. Need not be doubted. But that he was forever inconsolable, That he fled from society or died of a broken heart. Must not be depended upon, For he did neither. He lived to exert and frequently to enjoy himself. His wife was not always out of humour, And in his breed of horses and dogs, And in sporting of every kind, He found no inconsiderable degree of domestic felicity. For Marianne, However, He always retained that decided regard which interested him in everything that befell her and made her his secret standard of perfection in women. Mrs Dashwood was prudent enough to remain at the cottage without attempting a removal to Delaford. Unfortunately for Sir John and Mrs Jennings, Margaret had reached an age highly suitable for dancing. And not very ineligible for being supposed to have a lover. Between Barton and Delaford, There was that constant communication which strong family affection would naturally dictate. And among the merits and the happiness of Eleanor and Marianne. Let it not be ranked as the least considerable that those sisters and living almost within sight of each other. They could live without disagreement between themselves or producting coolness between their husbands.