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SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
by Jane Austen (1811)
Chapter 41
Edward, having carried his thanks to
Colonel Brandon, proceeded with his
happiness to Lucy; and such was the excess
of it by the time he reached Bartlett's
Buildings, that she was able to assure Mrs.
Jennings, who called on her again the next
day with her congratulations, that she had
never seen him in such spirits before in
her life.
Her own happiness, and her own spirits,
were at least very certain; and she joined
Mrs. Jennings most heartily in her
expectation of their being all comfortably
together in Delaford Parsonage before
Michaelmas.
So far was she, at the same time, from any
backwardness to give Elinor that credit
which Edward WOULD give her, that she spoke
of her friendship for them both with the
most grateful warmth, was ready to own all
their obligation to her, and openly
declared that no exertion for their good on
Miss Dashwood's part, either present or
future, would ever surprise her, for she
believed her capable of doing any thing in
the world for those she really valued.
As for Colonel Brandon, she was not only
ready to worship him as a saint, but was
moreover truly anxious that he should be
treated as one in all worldly concerns;
anxious that his tithes should be raised to
the utmost; and scarcely resolved to avail
herself, at Delaford, as far as she
possibly could, of his servants, his
carriage, his cows, and his poultry.
It was now above a week since John Dashwood
had called in Berkeley Street, and as since
that time no notice had been taken by them
of his wife's indisposition, beyond one
verbal enquiry, Elinor began to feel it
necessary to pay her a visit.--This was an
obligation, however, which not only opposed
her own inclination, but which had not the
assistance of any encouragement from her
companions.
Marianne, not contented with absolutely
refusing to go herself, was very urgent to
prevent her sister's going at all; and Mrs.
Jennings, though her carriage was always at
Elinor's service, so very much disliked
Mrs. John Dashwood, that not even her
curiosity to see how she looked after the
late discovery, nor her strong desire to
affront her by taking Edward's part, could
overcome her unwillingness to be in her
company again.
The consequence was, that Elinor set out by
herself to pay a visit, for which no one
could really have less inclination, and to
run the risk of a tete-a-tete with a woman,
whom neither of the others had so much
reason to dislike.
Mrs. Dashwood was denied; but before the
carriage could turn from the house, her
husband accidentally came out.
He expressed great pleasure in meeting
Elinor, told her that he had been just
going to call in Berkeley Street, and,
assuring her that *** would be very glad
to see her, invited her to come in.
They walked up stairs in to the drawing-
room.--Nobody was there.
"*** is in her own room, I suppose," said
he:--"I will go to her presently, for I am
sure she will not have the least objection
in the world to seeing YOU.-- Very far from
it, indeed.
NOW especially there cannot be--but
however, you and Marianne were always great
favourites.--Why would not Marianne come?"-
Elinor made what excuse she could for her.
"I am not sorry to see you alone," he
replied, "for I have a good deal to say to
you.
This living of Colonel Brandon's--can it be
true?--has he really given it to Edward?--I
heard it yesterday by chance, and was
coming to you on purpose to enquire farther
about it."
"It is perfectly true.--Colonel Brandon has
given the living of Delaford to Edward."
"Really!--Well, this is very astonishing!--
no relationship!--no connection between
them!--and now that livings fetch such a
price!--what was the value of this?"
"About two hundred a year."
"Very well--and for the next presentation
to a living of that value--supposing the
late incumbent to have been old and sickly,
and likely to vacate it soon--he might have
got I dare say--fourteen hundred pounds.
And how came he not to have settled that
matter before this person's death?--NOW
indeed it would be too late to sell it, but
a man of Colonel Brandon's sense!--I wonder
he should be so improvident in a point of
such common, such natural, concern!--Well,
I am convinced that there is a vast deal of
inconsistency in almost every human
character.
I suppose, however--on recollection--that
the case may probably be THIS.
Edward is only to hold the living till the
person to whom the Colonel has really sold
the presentation, is old enough to take
it.--Aye, aye, that is the fact, depend
upon it."
Elinor contradicted it, however, very
positively; and by relating that she had
herself been employed in conveying the
offer from Colonel Brandon to Edward, and,
therefore, must understand the terms on
which it was given, obliged him to submit
to her authority.
"It is truly astonishing!"--he cried, after
hearing what she said--"what could be the
Colonel's motive?"
"A very simple one--to be of use to Mr.
Ferrars."
"Well, well; whatever Colonel Brandon may
be, Edward is a very lucky man.--You will
not mention the matter to ***, however,
for though I have broke it to her, and she
bears it vastly well,--she will not like to
hear it much talked of."
Elinor had some difficulty here to refrain
from observing, that she thought ***
might have borne with composure, an
acquisition of wealth to her brother, by
which neither she nor her child could be
possibly impoverished.
"Mrs. Ferrars," added he, lowering his
voice to the tone becoming so important a
subject, "knows nothing about it at
present, and I believe it will be best to
keep it entirely concealed from her as long
as may be.-- When the marriage takes place,
I fear she must hear of it all."
"But why should such precaution be used?--
Though it is not to be supposed that Mrs.
Ferrars can have the smallest satisfaction
in knowing that her son has money enough to
live upon,--for THAT must be quite out of
the question; yet why, upon her late
behaviour, is she supposed to feel at all?-
-She has done with her son, she cast him
off for ever, and has made all those over
whom she had any influence, cast him off
likewise.
Surely, after doing so, she cannot be
imagined liable to any impression of sorrow
or of joy on his account--she cannot be
interested in any thing that befalls him.--
She would not be so weak as to throw away
the comfort of a child, and yet retain the
anxiety of a parent!"
"Ah! Elinor," said John, "your reasoning is
very good, but it is founded on ignorance
of human nature.
When Edward's unhappy match takes place,
depend upon it his mother will feel as much
as if she had never discarded him; and,
therefore every circumstance that may
accelerate that dreadful event, must be
concealed from her as much as possible.
Mrs. Ferrars can never forget that Edward
is her son."
"You surprise me; I should think it must
nearly have escaped her memory by THIS
time."
"You wrong her exceedingly.
Mrs. Ferrars is one of the most
affectionate mothers in the world."
Elinor was silent.
"We think NOW,"--said Mr. Dashwood, after a
short pause, "of ROBERT'S marrying Miss
Elinor, smiling at the grave and decisive
importance of her brother's tone, calmly
replied,
"The lady, I suppose, has no choice in the
affair."
"Choice!--how do you mean?"
"I only mean that I suppose, from your
manner of speaking, it must be the same to
Miss Morton whether she marry Edward or
Robert."
"Certainly, there can be no difference; for
Robert will now to all intents and purposes
be considered as the eldest son;--and as to
any thing else, they are both very
agreeable young men: I do not know that one
is superior to the other."
Elinor said no more, and John was also for
a short time silent.--His reflections ended
thus.
"Of ONE thing, my dear sister," kindly
taking her hand, and speaking in an awful
whisper,--"I may assure you;--and I WILL do
it, because I know it must gratify you.
I have good reason to think--indeed I have
it from the best authority, or I should not
repeat it, for otherwise it would be very
wrong to say any thing about it--but I have
it from the very best authority--not that I
ever precisely heard Mrs. Ferrars say it
herself--but her daughter DID, and I have
it from her--That in short, whatever
objections there might be against a
certain--a certain connection--you
understand me--it would have been far
preferable to her, it would not have given
her half the vexation that THIS does.
I was exceedingly pleased to hear that Mrs.
Ferrars considered it in that light--a very
gratifying circumstance you know to us all.
'It would have been beyond comparison,' she
said, 'the least evil of the two, and she
would be glad to compound NOW for nothing
worse.'
But however, all that is quite out of the
question--not to be thought of or
mentioned--as to any attachment you know--
it never could be--all that is gone by.
But I thought I would just tell you of
this, because I knew how much it must
please you.
Not that you have any reason to regret, my
dear Elinor.
There is no doubt of your doing exceedingly
well--quite as well, or better, perhaps,
all things considered.
Has Colonel Brandon been with you lately?"
Elinor had heard enough, if not to gratify
her vanity, and raise her self-importance,
to agitate her nerves and fill her mind;--
and she was therefore glad to be spared
from the necessity of saying much in reply
herself, and from the danger of hearing any
thing more from her brother, by the
entrance of Mr. Robert Ferrars.
After a few moments' chat, John Dashwood,
recollecting that *** was yet uninformed
of her sister's being there, quitted the
room in quest of her; and Elinor was left
to improve her acquaintance with Robert,
who, by the gay unconcern, the happy self-
complacency of his manner while enjoying so
unfair a division of his mother's love and
liberality, to the prejudice of his
banished brother, earned only by his own
dissipated course of life, and that
brother's integrity, was confirming her
most unfavourable opinion of his head and
heart.
They had scarcely been two minutes by
themselves, before he began to speak of
Edward; for he, too, had heard of the
living, and was very inquisitive on the
subject.
Elinor repeated the particulars of it, as
she had given them to John; and their
effect on Robert, though very different,
was not less striking than it had been on
HIM.
He laughed most immoderately.
The idea of Edward's being a clergyman, and
living in a small parsonage-house, diverted
him beyond measure;--and when to that was
added the fanciful imagery of Edward
reading prayers in a white surplice, and
publishing the banns of marriage between
John Smith and Mary Brown, he could
conceive nothing more ridiculous.
Elinor, while she waited in silence and
immovable gravity, the conclusion of such
folly, could not restrain her eyes from
being fixed on him with a look that spoke
all the contempt it excited.
It was a look, however, very well bestowed,
for it relieved her own feelings, and gave
no intelligence to him.
He was recalled from wit to wisdom, not by
any reproof of hers, but by his own
sensibility.
"We may treat it as a joke," said he, at
last, recovering from the affected laugh
which had considerably lengthened out the
genuine gaiety of the moment--"but, upon my
soul, it is a most serious business.
Poor Edward! he is ruined for ever.
I am extremely sorry for it--for I know him
to be a very good-hearted creature; as
well-meaning a fellow perhaps, as any in
the world.
You must not judge of him, Miss Dashwood,
from YOUR slight acquaintance.--Poor
Edward!--His manners are certainly not the
happiest in nature.--But we are not all
born, you know, with the same powers,--the
same address.-- Poor fellow!--to see him in
a circle of strangers!--to be sure it was
pitiable enough!--but upon my soul, I
believe he has as good a heart as any in
the kingdom; and I declare and protest to
you I never was so shocked in my life, as
when it all burst forth.
I could not believe it.-- My mother was the
first person who told me of it; and I,
feeling myself called on to act with
resolution, immediately said to her, 'My
dear madam, I do not know what you may
intend to do on the occasion, but as for
myself, I must say, that if Edward does
marry this young woman, I never will see
him again.'
That was what I said immediately.-- I was
most uncommonly shocked, indeed!--Poor
Edward!--he has done for himself
completely--shut himself out for ever from
all decent society!--but, as I directly
said to my mother, I am not in the least
surprised at it; from his style of
education, it was always to be expected.
My poor mother was half frantic."
"Have you ever seen the lady?"
"Yes; once, while she was staying in this
house, I happened to drop in for ten
minutes; and I saw quite enough of her.
The merest awkward country girl, without
style, or elegance, and almost without
beauty.-- I remember her perfectly.
Just the kind of girl I should suppose
likely to captivate poor Edward.
I offered immediately, as soon as my mother
related the affair to me, to talk to him
myself, and dissuade him from the match;
but it was too late THEN, I found, to do
any thing, for unluckily, I was not in the
way at first, and knew nothing of it till
after the breach had taken place, when it
was not for me, you know, to interfere.
But had I been informed of it a few hours
earlier--I think it is most probable--that
something might have been hit on.
I certainly should have represented it to
Edward in a very strong light.
'My dear fellow,' I should have said,
'consider what you are doing.
You are making a most disgraceful
connection, and such a one as your family
are unanimous in disapproving.'
I cannot help thinking, in short, that
means might have been found.
But now it is all too late.
He must be starved, you know;--that is
certain; absolutely starved."
He had just settled this point with great
composure, when the entrance of Mrs. John
Dashwood put an end to the subject.
But though SHE never spoke of it out of her
own family, Elinor could see its influence
on her mind, in the something like
confusion of countenance with which she
entered, and an attempt at cordiality in
her behaviour to herself.
She even proceeded so far as to be
concerned to find that Elinor and her
sister were so soon to leave town, as she
had hoped to see more of them;--an exertion
in which her husband, who attended her into
the room, and hung enamoured over her
accents, seemed to distinguish every thing
that was most affectionate and graceful.