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Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen Chapter 48 Chapter 48 Ellen hath 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 to Colonel Brandon,
Ma'am?
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 behaviour 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 and when the moment of action was over,
She wished she had shaken hands with him too,
But it was then too late and with a countenance 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.
Ferrars 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,
She dared not look up,
But her mother and Marianne both turned her eyes on him.
He coloured,
Seemed 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,
But I am sure you do not know.
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 rather 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,
As 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 twenty-four.
It was a foolish,
Idle inclination on my side,
Said he.
Had my mother given me some active profession when I was removed at eighteen 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 fancied attachment.
I returned home to be completely idle,
For I was not entered at Oxford until I was nineteen.
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 Longstable 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 honourably 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 of 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 too 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.
Dear Sir,
It said,
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 scorn to accept a hand while the heart was another's.
I can safely say I owe you no ill will,
And I am sure you will 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 Ferrars.
You
