What Lucy had asserted to be true,
Eleanor could not,
Dared not,
Longer doubt.
Their opportunity of acquaintance in the house of Mr Pratt was a foundation for the rest,
At once indisputable and alarming.
And Edward's visit near Plymouth,
His melancholy state of mind,
His dissatisfaction at his
own prospects,
His uncertain behaviour towards herself,
The picture,
The letter,
The ring,
Such a body of evidence,
As overcame every fear of condemning him unfairly,
And established
as a fact which no partiality could set aside,
His ill-treatment of herself.
Had Edward been intentionally deceiving her?
Had he feigned a regard for her which he did not feel?
Was his engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart?
No,
Whatever it might once have been,
She could not believe it such,
At present.
His affection was all her own.
She could not be deceived in that.
Her mother,
Sisters,
Fanny,
All had been conscious of his regard for her at Norland.
He certainly loved her.
He had been blamable,
Highly blamable,
In remaining at Norland after he first felt her
influence over him to be more than it ought to be.
In that he could not be defended.
But if he had injured her,
How much more had he injured himself?
If her case were pitiable,
His was hopeless.
His imprudence had made her miserable for a while,
But it seemed to have deprived himself
of all chance of ever being otherwise.
Could he ever be tolerably happy with Lucy Steele?
Could he?
Were his affection for herself out of the question?
With his integrity,
His delicacy and well-informed mind,
Be satisfied with a wife like her,
Illiterate,
Artful and selfish?
If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself,
His difficulties from his mother
had seemed great,
How much greater were they now likely to be when the object of his engagement
was undoubtedly inferior in connections,
And probably inferior in fortune to herself?
As these considerations occurred to her in painful succession,
She wept for him more
than for herself.
Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to merit her present unhappiness,
And consoled by the belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem,
She thought
she could,
Even now,
Command herself to guard every suspicion of the truth from her mother
and sisters.
And so well was she able to answer her own expectations,
That when she joined them at
dinner,
Only two hours after she had first suffered the extinction of all her dearest
hopes,
No one would have supposed that Eleanor was mourning in secret over obstacles which
must divide her forever from the object of her love,
And that Marianne was internally
dwelling on the perfections of a man,
Of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly possessed,
And whom she expected to see in every carriage which drove near their house.
The necessity of concealing from her mother and Marianne what had been entrusted in confidence
to herself was no aggravation of Eleanor's distress.
On the contrary,
It was a relief to her to be spared the communication of what which
would give such affliction to them,
And to be saved likewise from hearing that condemnation
of Edward which would probably flow from the excess of their partial affection for
herself.
She was stronger alone,
And her own good sense so well supported her,
That her firmness was
as unshaken,
Her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable,
As with regrets so poignant
and so fresh,
It was possible for them to be.
Such as she had suffered from her first conversation with Lucy on the subject,
She soon felt an
earnest wish of renewing it.
She particularly wanted to convince Lucy,
By her readiness to enter on the matter again,
And her calmness in conversing on it,
That she was no otherwise interested in it than
as a friend.
That Lucy was disposed to be jealous of her appeared very probable.
It was plain that Edward had always spoken highly in her praise,
Not merely from Lucy's
assertion,
But from her venturing to trust her on so short a personal acquaintance,
With
a secret so confessively and evidently important.
But indeed,
While Eleanor remained so well assured within herself of being really loved
by Edward,
It required no other consideration of probabilities to make it natural that Lucy
should be jealous.
What other reason for the disclosure of the affair could there be but that Eleanor might
be informed of it by Lucy's superior claims on Edward,
And be taught to avoid him in the
future?
She had little difficulty in understanding thus much of her rival's intentions,
And
while she was firmly resolved to act by her as every principle of honour and honesty directed,
To combat her own affection for Edward and to see him as little as possible,
She could
not deny herself the comfort of endeavouring to convince Lucy that her heart was unwounded.
And as she could now have nothing more painful to bear on the subject than had already been
told,
She did not mistrust her own ability of going through a repetition of particulars
with composure.
But it was not immediately that an opportunity of doing so could be commanded,
For the weather
was not often fine enough to allow of their joining in a walk,
Where they might most easily
separate themselves from the others.
And though they met at least every other evening,
Either at the park or cottage,
And chiefly
at the former,
They could not be supposed to meet for the sake of conversation.
One or two meetings of this kind had taken place without affording Eleanor any chance
of engaging Lucy in private,
When Sir John called at the cottage one morning to beg they
would all dine with Lady Middleton that day,
As he was obliged to attend the club at Exeter.
Eleanor,
Who foresaw a fairer opening for the point she had in view in such a party
as this was likely to be,
Immediately accepted the invitation.
Margaret,
With her mother's permission,
Was equally compliant,
And Marianne,
Though always
unwilling to join any of their parties,
Was persuaded by her mother,
Who could not bear
to have her seclude herself from any chance of amusement,
To go likewise.
The insipidity of the meeting was exactly such as Eleanor had expected,
And nothing
could be less interesting than the whole of their discourse both in the dining parlour
and drawing room.
To the latter,
The children accompanied them,
And while they remained there,
She was too
well convinced of the impossibility of engaging Lucy's attention to attempt it.
They quitted it only with the removal of the tea things.
The card table was then placed,
And Eleanor began to wonder at herself for having ever
entertained a hope of finding time for conversation at the park.
I am glad,
Said Lady Middleton to Lucy,
You are not going to finish poor little Anna Maria's
basket this evening,
For I am sure it must hurt your eyes to work filigree by candlelight,
And we will make the dear little love some amends for her disappointment tomorrow.
Lucy recollected herself instantly,
And replied,
Indeed,
You are very much mistaken,
Lady Middleton,
I am only waiting to know whether you can make your party without me,
Or I should have
been at my filigree already.
You are very good,
I hope it won't hurt your eyes,
Will you ring the bell for some
working candles?
Lucy directly drew her work table near her,
And reseated herself with an alacrity and
cheerfulness which seemed to infer she could taste no greater delight than in making a
filigree basket for a spoilt child.
Lady Middleton proposed a rubber of casino to the others.
No one made any objection but Marianne,
Who,
With her usual inattention to the forms of
general civility,
Exclaimed,
Your ladyship will have the goodness to excuse me.
You know I detest cards.
I shall go to the pianoforte,
I have not touched it since it was tuned.
Lady Middleton looked as if she thanked heaven that she had never made so rude a speech.
The remaining five were now to draw their cards.
Perhaps,
Continued Eleanor,
If I should happen to cut out,
I may be of some use to Miss Lucy
Steele in rolling her papers for her,
And there is so much still to be done to the basket
that it must be impossible,
I think,
For her labour singly to finish it this evening.
Indeed,
I shall be very much obliged to you for your help,
Cried Lucy,
For I find there
is more to be done to it than I thought there was.
You are very kind,
Said Lady Middleton to Eleanor,
And as you really like the work,
Perhaps you will be as well pleased not to cut in till another rubber,
Or will you take
your chance now?
Eleanor joyfully profited by the first of these proposals.
Lucy made room for her with ready attention,
And the two fair rivals were thus seated side
by side at the same table,
And with the utmost harmony engaged in forwarding the same work.
The pianoforte at which Marianne,
Wrapped up in her own music and her own thoughts,
Had by this time forgotten that anybody was in the room besides herself,
Was luckily so
near to them that Miss Dashwood now judged she might safely,
Under the shelter of its
noise,
Introduce the interesting subject without any risk of being heard at the card table.
