Chapter 22 Marianne,
Who had never much toleration for anything lacking pertinence,
Vulgarity,
Or even difference of taste from herself,
Was at this time particularly ill-disposed to be pleased with a Miss Steele's,
Or to encourage their advances,
And to the invariable coldness of her behaviour towards them,
Eleanor principally attributed that preference of herself which soon became evident in the manners of both,
But especially of Lucy,
Who missed no opportunity of striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank communication of her sentiments.
Lucy Steele was naturally clever,
Her remarks were often just and amusing,
And as a companion for half an hour,
Eleanor frequently found her agreeable.
But she was ignorant and illiterate,
And her deficiency of all mental improvement could not be concealed from Miss Dashwood.
Eleanor saw and pitied her for the neglect of abilities which education might have rendered so respectable.
But she saw with less tenderness of feeling the thorough want of delicacy and integrity of mind which her attentions at the park were trade.
And she could have no lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined in sincerity with ignorance.
You will think my question an odd one,
I dare say,
Said Lucy to her one day,
As they were walking together from the park to the cottage.
But pray,
Are you personally acquainted with your sister-in-law's mother,
Mrs.
Ferrars?
Eleanor did think the question was a very odd one,
And her countenance expressed it,
As she answered,
That she had never seen Mrs.
Ferrars.
Indeed?
Replied Lucy.
I wondered that,
For I thought you must have seen her at Norland sometimes.
Then perhaps you cannot tell me what sort of a woman she is?
No,
Returned Eleanor,
Cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's mother.
I know nothing of her.
I am sure you must think me very strange for inquiring about her in such a way,
Said Lucy,
But perhaps there may be reasons.
I wish I might venture,
But,
However,
I hope you will do me the justice of believing I do not mean to be impertinent.
They walked on for a few minutes in silence.
It was broken by Lucy,
Who renewed the subject again by saying,
With some hesitation,
I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious.
Indeed,
I should be very glad of your advice how to manage in such an uncomfortable situation as I am.
But,
However,
There is no occasion to trouble you.
I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs.
Ferrars.
I am sorry I do not,
Said Elizabeth,
In great astonishment,
If it could be of any use to you to know my opinion of her,
But,
Really,
I never understood that you were at all connected with that family,
And therefore am a little surprised,
I confess,
As to seriously inquire into her character.
If I dare tell you all,
You would not be so much surprised.
Mrs.
Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present,
But the time may come when we may be very intimately connected.
Good heavens,
Cried Eleanor,
What do you mean?
Are you acquainted with Mr.
Robert Ferrars?
Can you be?
No,
Replied Lucy,
Not to Mr.
Robert Ferrars,
To his elder brother.
What felt Eleanor at that moment?
Astonishment that would have been as painful as it was wrong had not an immediate disbelief of the assertion attended it.
You may well be surprised,
Continued Lucy,
For to be sure you could have no idea of it before,
For I dare say he never dropped the smallest hint of it to you or any of your family,
Because it was always meant to be a great secret,
And I am sure has been faithfully kept by me so long to this hour.
Not a soul of all my relations know of it but Anne,
And I never should have mentioned it to you if I had not felt the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy.
And I really thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs.
Ferrars must seem so odd that it ought to be explained.
Eleanor for a few moments remained silent.
At length forcing herself to speak,
And to speak cautiously,
She said with a calmness of manner which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude.
May I ask if your engagement is of long-standing?
We have been engaged these four years.
Eleanor,
Though greatly shocked,
Still felt unable to believe it.
I did not know,
Said she,
That you were ever acquainted till the other day.
Our acquaintance however is of many years' date.
It was under my uncle's care,
You know,
A considerable while.
Your uncle?
Yes,
Mr.
Pratt.
Did you ever hear of him talk of Mr.
Pratt?
I think I have,
Replied Eleanor.
He was four years with my uncle who lives at Longstaple near Plymouth.
It was there our acquaintance began,
And it was there our engagement was formed,
Though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil.
I was very unwilling to enter into it,
As you may imagine,
Without the knowledge and approbation of his mother.
But I was too young and loved him too well to be so prudent as I ought to have been.
You must have seen enough of him to be sensible.
He's very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him.
" "'Certainly,
' answered Eleanor,
Without knowing what she said.
But after a moment's reflection,
She added with revived security of Edward's honour and love,
And her companion's falsehood,
"'Engaged to Edward Ferrars?
I beg your pardon,
But surely there must be some mistake of personal name.
We cannot mean the same Mr.
Ferrars.
' "'We can mean no other,
' cried Lucy,
Smiling.
Mr.
Edward Ferrars,
The eldest son of Mrs.
Ferrars of Park Street,
And brother of your sister-in-law,
Mrs.
John Dashwood,
Is the person I mean.
" "'It is strange,
' replied Eleanor,
In a most painful perplexity,
"'that I should never have heard him mention your name.
Our first care has been to keep the matter secret.
You knew nothing of me or my family,
And therefore there could be no occasion for ever mentioning my name to you.
'" She was silent.
Eleanor's security sank,
But her self-command did not sync with it.
"'Four years you have been engaged?
' said she,
With a firm voice.
"'Yes,
And heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait.
Poor Edward,
It puts him quite out of heart.
'" Then,
Taking a small miniature from her pocket,
She added,
"'To prevent the possibility of mistake,
Be so good as to look at this face.
'" She put it into Eleanor's hands as she spoke,
And when Eleanor saw the painting,
Whatever other doubts her fear of too hasty a decision,
Or her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind,
She could have none of its being Edward's face.
She returned it almost instantly,
Acknowledging the likeness.
"'I have never been able,
' continued Lucy,
"'to give him my picture in return,
But I am determined to sit for it the very first opportunity.
'" "'You are quite in the right,
' replied Eleanor calmly.
They then proceeded a few paces in silence.
Lucy spoke first.
"'I'm sure,
' said she,
"'I have no doubt in the world if you are faithfully keeping this secret,
Because you must know of what importance it is to us not to have reached his mother.
'" "'I certainly did not seek your confidence,
' said Eleanor,
"'but you do me no more than justice in imagining it may be depended upon.
Your secret is safe with me.
But pardon me if I express some surprise at so unnecessary a communication.
You must at least have felt my being acquainted with it could not add to its safety.
"'I was afraid you'd think I was taking great liberty with you,
' said Lucy,
"'in telling you all this.
I really thought some explanation was due to you after my making such particular inquiries about Edward's mother,
And Anne is the only person that knows of it,
And she has no judgment at all.
Indeed,
She does me a great deal more harm than good,
For I am in constant fear of her betraying me.
"'I only wonder I'm alive after what I've suffered for Edward's sake these last four years.
Everything in such suspense and uncertainty,
And seeing him so seldom.
We can hardly meet above twice a year.
I am sure I wonder why my heart is not quite broke.
'" Here she took out her handkerchief,
But Eleanor did not feel very compassionate.
"'Sometimes,
' continued Lucy,
After wiping her eyes,
"'I think whether it would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely.
Then,
At other times,
I have not resolution enough for it.
I cannot bear the thoughts of making him so miserable,
As I know the very mention of such a thing would do.
What would you advise me to do in such a case,
Miss Dashwood?
' "'Pardon me,
' replied Eleanor,
Startled by the question,
"'but I can give you no advice under such circumstances.
Your own judgment must direct you.
'" "'To be sure,
' continued Lucy,
"'his mother must provide for him some time or another.
But poor Edward's so downcast about it.
Did you not think him dreadfully low-spirited when he was at Barton?
He was so miserable when he left us to go to you,
And I was afraid you would think him quite ill.
Did he come from your uncle's then,
When he visited us?
' "'Oh yes,
He'd been staying a fortnight with us.
Did you think he came directly from town?
' "'No,
' replied Eleanor,
Most feelingly sensible of every fresh circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity.
"'I remember he told us he'd been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth.
'" "'Did you not think him sadly out of spirits?
' repeated Lucy.
"'We did indeed,
Particularly so when he first arrived.
'" "'Poor fellow.
I'm afraid it's just the same with him now,
For he writes in wretched spirits.
I heard from him just before I left Exeter.
'" She took a letter from her pocket and carelessly showed the direction to Eleanor.
"'You know his hand,
I dare say.
A charming one it is,
But that is not written so well as usual.
He was tired,
I dare say,
For he'd just filled the sheet to me as full as possible.
'" Eleanor saw that it was Edward's hand,
And she could doubt no longer.
For a few moments she was almost overcome.
Her heart sank within her,
And she could hardly stand.
But exertion was indispensably necessary,
And she struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings that her success was speedy and for the time complete.
"'Writing to each other,
' said Lucy,
Returning the letter into her pocket,
"'is the only comfort we have in such long separations.
Yes,
I have one other comfort in his picture,
But poor Edward has not even that.
If he had but my picture,
He said,
It should be easy.
I gave him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last,
And that was some comfort to him,
' he said,
"'but not equal to a picture.
Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him.
' "'I did,
' said Eleanor,
With a composure of voice under which was concealed an emotion and distress beyond anything she had ever felt before.
Fortunately for her,
They had now reached the cottage,
And the conversation could be continued no further.
After sitting with them a few minutes,
The Miss Steeles returned to the park.
And Eleanor was then at liberty to think and be wretched.
" Chapter 23 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,
Formed altogether 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'd 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.
Much 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 confessedly 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's 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 piano forte 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.
Chapter 24 In a firm though cautious tone,
Eleanor thus began.
I should be undeserving of the confidence you have honoured me with,
If I felt no further curiosity on its subject.
I will not apologise,
Therefore,
For bringing it forward again.
Thank you,
Cried Lucy warmly,
For breaking the ice.
I was somehow rather afraid I'd offended you by what I told you.
Offended me?
How could you possibly suppose so?
Believe me.
And Eleanor spoke with truest sincerity.
Nothing could be further from my intention than to give you such an idea.
And yet I do assure you,
Replied Lucy,
Her little sharp eyes full of meaning,
There seemed to me to be a coldness and displeasure in your manner that made me quite uncomfortable.
But I am very glad to find it was only my own fancy,
And that you do not really blame me.
If you knew what a consolation it was to me to relieve my heart by speaking to you of what I'm always thinking of every moment of my life.
Indeed,
I can easily believe it was a very great relief to you to acknowledge your situation to me,
Said Eleanor.
You seem to me to be surrounded with difficulties,
And you will have need of all your mutual affection to support you under them.
Mr.
Ferrars,
I believe,
Is entirely dependent on his mother.
He has only £2,
000 of his own.
It would be madness to marry upon that,
Though for my own part I could give up every prospect of more without a sigh.
I've always been used to a very small income and could struggle with any poverty for him,
But I love him too well to be the selfish means of robbing him,
Perhaps of all that his might give him if he married to please her.
We must wait.
It may be for many years.
With almost every other man in the world it would seem an alarming prospect,
But Edward's affection and constancy nothing can deprive me of,
I know.
That conviction must be everything to you,
Said Eleanor,
And he is undoubtedly supported by the same trust in yours.
Edward's love for me,
Said Lucy,
Has been pretty well put to the test by our long,
Very long absence since we were first engaged.
I can safely say he's never given me one moment's alarm on that account from the start.
Eleanor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this assertion.
Lucy went on,
I'm rather of a jealous temper too,
By nature,
And from our continual separation I was enough inclined for suspicion to have found out the truth in an instant,
If there had been the slightest alteration in his behaviour to me when we met.
All this,
Thought Eleanor,
Is very pretty,
But it can impose upon neither of us.
But what,
Said she,
After a short silence,
Are your views?
Or have you none but that of waiting for Mrs.
Ferrars' death?
Is her son determined to submit to this and to all the tediousness of the many years of suspense in which may involve you,
Rather than run the risk of her displeasure for a while by owning the truth?
If we could be but certain that it would be for only a while,
Said Lucy,
But Mrs.
Ferrars,
In her first fit of anger upon hearing it,
Would very likely secure everything to Robert,
And the idea of that for Edward's sake frightens away all my inclination for hasty measures.
And for your own sake too,
Or are you carrying your disinterestedness beyond reason?
Lucy looked at Eleanor again and was silent.
Do you know Mr.
Robert Ferrars?
Asked Eleanor.
Not at all.
I never saw him,
But I fancy he's very unlike his brother.
Silly,
And a great cockscomb.
Oh,
They're talking of their favourite bow,
I dare say,
Repeated Miss Steele,
Whose ear had caught those words by a sudden pause in Marianne's music.
No,
Sister,
Cried Lucy,
You are mistaken there.
Our favourite bow are not great cockscombs.
I can answer for it that Miss Dashwood's is not,
Said Mrs.
Jennings,
Laughing heartily,
For he is one of the modestest,
Prettiest behaved young men I ever saw.
But as for Lucy,
She is such a sly little creature,
There is no finding out who she likes.
Oh,
Cried Miss Steele,
Looking significantly round at them.
I dare say Lucy's bow is quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss Dashwood's.
Eleanor blushed in spite of herself.
Lucy bit her lip and looked angrily at her sister.
A mutual silence took place for some time.
Lucy first put an end to it by saying in a lower tone,
I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has lately come into my head.
I dare say you've seen enough of Edward to know he would prefer the church to every other profession.
Now,
My plan is he should take orders as soon as he can,
And then,
Through your interest,
Which I'm sure you'd be kind enough to use out of friendship for him,
Your brother might be persuaded to give him living.
That would be enough for us to marry upon,
And we might trust to time and chance for the rest.
I should be always happy,
Replied Eleanor,
To show any mark of my esteem and friendship for Mr.
Ferrars.
But do you not perceive that my interest on such an occasion would be perfectly unnecessary?
He is brother to Mrs.
John Dashwood,
That must be a recommendation enough to her husband.
But Mrs.
John Dashwood would not much approve of Edward's going into orders.
Then,
Said Eleanor,
I rather suspect my interest would do very little.
They were again silent for many minutes.
At length Lucy exclaimed with a deep sigh,
I believe it would be the wisest way to put an end to the business at once,
By dissolving the engagement.
We seem so beset with difficulties on every side,
That though it would make us miserable for a time,
We should be happier perhaps in the end.
But you will not give me your advice,
Miss Dashwood?
No,
Answered Eleanor with a smile.
You know very well my opinion would have no weight with you,
Unless it were on the side of your wishes.
Indeed you roll me,
Replied Lucy with great solemnity.
I really do believe that if you was to say I advise you by all means to put an end to your engagement with Edward Ferrars,
It will be more for the happiness of both of you.
I should resolve upon doing it immediately.
Eleanor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife,
And replied,
This compliment would effectually frighten me from giving any opinion on the subject,
Had I formed one.
The power of dividing two people so tenderly attached is too much for an indifferent person.
Tis because you are an indifferent person,
Said Lucy with some pique,
That your judgment may justly have such weight with me.
Another pause of many minutes' duration succeeded this speech,
And Lucy was still the first to end it.
Shall you be in town this winter,
Miss Dashwood?
Said she.
Certainly not.
I am sorry for that,
Returned the other while her eyes brightened at the information.
It would have given me such pleasure to meet you there,
But I dare say you will go for all that.
To be sure your brother and sister will ask you to come to them.
It will not be in my power to accept their invitation if they do.
How unlucky that is,
Said Lucy.
I had quite depended upon meeting you there,
But I only go for the sake of seeing Edward.
He will be there in February.
Eleanor was soon called to the card table by the conclusion of the first rubber,
And the confidential discourse of the two ladies was therefore at an end.
She sat down to the card table with a melancholy persuasion that Edward was not only without affection for the person who was to be his wife,
But that he had not even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage,
Which sincere affection on her side would have given,
For self-interest alone could induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement of which she seemed so thoroughly aware.
That he was weary.
From this time the subject was never revived by Eleanor,
And when entered on by Lucy,
Who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing it,
Was treated by the former with calmness and caution,
And dismissed as soon as civility would allow.
For she felt such conversations to be an indulgence which Lucy did not deserve and which were dangerous to herself.
The visit of the Miss Steeles at Barton Park was lengthened far beyond what the first invitation implied.
They were prevailed on to stay nearly two months at the park and to assist in the due celebration of that festival,
Which requires a more than ordinary share of private balls and large dinners to proclaim its importance.
Chapter 25 Though Mrs Jennings was in the habit of spending a large portion of the year at the houses of her children and friends,
She was not without a settled habitation of her own.
Since the death of her husband,
She had resided every winter in a house in one of the streets near Portman Square.
Towards this home she began on the approach of January,
To turn her thoughts,
And thither,
Due one day abruptly and very unexpectedly by them,
Asked the elder Miss Dashwoods to accompany her.
Eleanor immediately gave a grateful but absolute denial for both,
In which she believed herself to be speaking their united inclinations.
Mrs Jennings received the refusal with some surprise,
And repeated her invitation immediately.
Lord,
I'm sure your mother can spare you very well.
Don't fancy that you will be any inconvenience to me,
For I shan't put myself out at all of my way for you.
We three shall be able to go very well in my chaise,
And when we're in town,
If you do not like wherever I go,
Well and good.
You may always go with one of my daughters.
I'm sure your mother will not object to it,
For I have had such good luck in getting my own children off my hands,
That she will think me a very fit person to have the charge of you.
And if I don't get one of you at least well married before I've done with you,
It shall not be my fault.
I have a notion,
Said Sir John,
That Miss Marianne would not object to such a scheme,
If her elder sister would come into it.
So I would advise you two to set off for town,
Where you are tired of Barton,
Without saying a word to Miss Dashwood about it.
Nay,
Cried Mrs Jennings,
I'm sure I shall be monstrous glad of Miss Marianne's company,
Whether Miss Dashwood would go or not.
But one or the other,
If not both of them,
I must have.
Come Miss Marianne,
Let us strike hands upon the bargain,
And if Miss Dashwood will change her mind by and by,
Why so much the better.
I thank you ma'am,
Seriously thank you,
Said Marianne with a warmth.
Your invitation has ensured my gratitude forever,
But my mother,
My dearest,
Kindest mother,
No,
Nothing should tempt me to leave her.
Mrs Jennings repeated her assurance,
That Mrs Dashwood could spare them perfectly well,
And Eleanor,
Who now understood her sister,
And saw to what indifference,
To almost everything else she was carried by her eagerness,
To be with Willoughby again,
Made no further direct opposition to the plan,
And merely referred it to her mother's decision.
Whatever Marianne was desirous of,
Her mother would be eager to promote.
She could not expect to influence the latter to cautiousness of conduct in an affair,
Respecting which she had never been able to inspire her with distrust,
And she dared not explain the motive of her own disinclination for going to London.
That Marianne,
Thoroughly acquainted with Mrs Jennings' manners,
And invariably disgusted by them,
Should overlook every inconvenience of that kind,
In her pursuit of one object,
Was such a proof so strong,
So full of the importance of that object to her as Eleanor,
In spite of all that had passed,
Was not prepared to witness.
On being informed of the invitation,
Mrs Dashwood would not hear of their declining the offer upon her account,
Insisting on their both accepting it directly,
And then began to foresee a variety of advantages that would accrue to them,
All from this separation.
I am delighted with the plan,
She cried.
It is exactly what I could wish.
Margaret and I shall be as much benefited by it as yourselves.
We shall go on so quietly and happily together with our books and our music.
You will be under the care of a motherly good sort of woman,
And whose kindness to you I can have no doubt.
And in all probability you will see your brother,
And whatever may be his faults,
Or the faults of his wife,
When I consider whose son he is,
I cannot bear to have you so wholly estranged from each other.
Though with your usual anxiety for our happiness,
Said Eleanor,
There is still one objection which,
In my opinion,
Cannot be so easily removed.
Marianne's countenance sunk.
And what,
Said Mrs Dashwood,
Is my dear prudent Eleanor going to suggest?
What formidable obstacle is she now to bring forward?
My objection is this,
Said Eleanor,
Though I think very well of Mrs Jennings' heart,
She is not a woman whose society can afford us pleasure,
Or whose protection will give us consequence.
That is very true,
Replied her mother,
But of her society you will scarcely have anything at all,
And you will almost always appear in public with Lady Middleton.
If Eleanor is frightened away by her dislike of Mrs Jennings,
Said Marianne,
It need not prevent my accepting her invitation,
I could put up with every unpleasantness of that kind with very little effort.
Eleanor resolved within herself that if her sister persisted in going,
She would have to go likewise,
As she did not think it proper that Marianne should be left to the sole guidance of her own judgment,
Or that Mrs Jennings should be abandoned to the mercy of Marianne for all the comfort of her domestic hours.
To this determination,
She was the more easily reconciled by recollecting that Edward Ferrars,
By Lucy's account,
Was not to be in town before February.
I will have you both go,
Said Mrs Dashwood.
These objections are nonsensical,
And if Eleanor would ever condescend to anticipate enjoyment,
She would foresee it there from a variety of sources.
She would perhaps expect some from improving her acquaintance with her sister-in-law's family.
Eleanor had often wished for an opportunity of attempting to weaken her mother's dependence on the attachment of Edward and herself,
That the shock might be the less when the whole truth were revealed,
And she forced herself to begin her design by saying as calmly as she could,
I like Edward Ferrars very much,
And shall always be glad to see him,
But as to the rest of the family,
It is a matter of perfect indifference to me whether I am ever known to them or not.
After very little further discourse,
It was finally settled that the invitation should be fully accepted.
Eleanor submitted to the arrangement which counteracted her wishes with less reluctance than she had expected to feel.
When she saw her mother so thoroughly pleased with the plan,
And her sister exhilarated by it in look,
Voice,
And manner,
Restored to all her usual animation,
She could not be dissatisfied with the cause and would hardly allow herself to distrust the consequence.
Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness,
So great was her impatience to be gone.
Her unwillingness to quit her mother was her only restorative to calmness,
And at the moment of parting,
Her grief on that score was excessive.
Her mother's affliction was hardly less,
And Eleanor was the only one of the three who seemed to consider the separation as anything short of eternal.
