CHAPTER X

hen the particulars of this conversation were repeated

by Miss Dashwood to her sister, as they very soon

were, the effect on her was not entirely such as the

former had hoped to see. Not that Marianne appeared to distrust

the truth of any part of it, for she listened to it all with the most

steady and submissive attention, made neither objection nor

remark, attempted no vindication of Willoughby, and seemed to

shew by her tears that she felt it to be impossible. But though this

behaviour assured Elinor that the conviction of this guilt was

carried home to her mind, though she saw with satisfaction the

effect of it, in her no longer avoiding Colonel Brandon when he

called, in her speaking to him, even voluntarily speaking, with a

kind of compassionate respect, and though she saw her spirits less

violently irritated than before, she did not see her less wretched.

Her mind did become settled, but it was settled in a gloomy

dejection. She felt the loss of Willoughby's character yet more

heavily than she had felt the loss of his heart; his seduction and

desertion of Miss Williams, the misery of that poor girl, and the

doubt of what his designs might once have been on herself, preyed

altogether so much on her spirits, that she could not bring herself

to speak of what she felt even to Elinor; and, brooding over her

sorrows in silence, gave more pain to her sister than could have

been communicated by the most open and most frequent

confession of them.

To give the feelings or the language of Mrs. Dashwood on

receiving and answering Elinor's letter would be only to give a

repetition of what her daughters had already felt and said; of a

disappointment hardly less painful than Marianne's, and an

indignation even greater than Elinor's. Long letters from her,

quickly succeeding each other, arrived to tell all that she suffered

and thought; to express her anxious solicitude for Marianne, and

entreat she would bear up with fortitude under this misfortune.

Bad indeed must the nature of Marianne's affliction be, when her

mother could talk of fortitude! mortifying and humiliating must be

the origin of those regrets, which she could wish her not to

indulge!

Against the interest of her own individual comfort, Mrs.

Dashwood had determined that it would be better for Marianne to

be any where, at that time, than at Barton, where every thing

within her view would be bringing back the past in the strongest

and most afflicting manner, by constantly placing Willoughby

before her, such as she had always seen him there. She

recommended it to her daughters, therefore, by all means not to

shorten their visit to Mrs. Jennings; the length of which, though

never exactly fixed, had been expected by all to comprise at least

five or six weeks. A variety of occupations, of objects, and of

company, which could not be procured at Barton, would be

inevitable there, and might yet, she hoped, cheat Marianne, at

times, into some interest beyond herself, and even into some

amusement, much as the ideas of both might now be spurned by

her.

From all danger of seeing Willoughby again, her mother

considered her to be at least equally safe in town as in the country,

since his acquaintance must now be dropped by all who called

themselves her friends. Design could never bring them in each

other's way: negligence could never leave them exposed to a

surprise; and chance had less in its favour in the crowd of London

than even in the retirement of Barton, where it might force him

before her while paying that visit at Allenham on his marriage,

which Mrs. Dashwood, from foreseeing at first as a probable event,

had brought herself to expect as a certain one.

She had yet another reason for wishing her children to remain

where they were; a letter from her son-in-law had told her that he

and his wife were to be in town before the middle of February, and

she judged it right that they should sometimes see their brother.

Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother's opinion,

and she submitted to it therefore without opposition, though it

proved perfectly different from what she wished and expected,

though she felt it to be entirely wrong, formed on mistaken

grounds, and that by requiring her longer continuance in London

it deprived her of the only possible alleviation of her

wretchedness, the personal sympathy of her mother, and doomed

her to such society and such scenes as must prevent her ever

knowing a moment's rest.

But it was a matter of great consolation to her, that what

brought evil to herself would bring good to her sister; and Elinor,

on the other hand, suspecting that it would not be in her power to

avoid Edward entirely, comforted herself by thinking, that though

their longer stay would therefore militate against her own

happiness, it would be better for Marianne than an immediate

return into Devonshire.

Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever hearing

Willoughby's name mentioned, was not thrown away. Marianne,

though without knowing it herself, reaped all its advantage; for

neither Mrs. Jennings, nor Sir John, nor even Mrs. Palmer herself,

ever spoke of him before her. Elinor wished that the same

forbearance could have extended towards herself, but that was

impossible, and she was obliged to listen day after day to the

indignation of them all.

Sir John could not have thought it possible. "A man of whom he

had always had such reason to think well! Such a good-natured

fellow! He did not believe there was a bolder rider in England! It

was an unaccountable business. He wished him at the devil with

all his heart. He would not speak another word to him, meet him

where he might, for all the world! No, not if it were to be by the

side of Barton covert, and they were kept watching for two hours

together. Such a scoundrel of a fellow! such a deceitful dog! It was

only the last time they met that he had offered him one of Folly's

puppies! and this was the end of it!"

Mrs. Palmer, in her way, was equally angry. "She was

determined to drop his acquaintance immediately, and she was

very thankful that she had never been acquainted with him at all.

She wished with all her heart Combe Magna was not so near

Cleveland; but it did not signify, for it was a great deal too far off to

visit; she hated him so much that she was resolved never to

mention his name again, and she should tell everybody she saw,

how good-for-nothing he was."

The rest of Mrs. Palmer's sympathy was shewn in procuring all

the particulars in her power of the approaching marriage, and

communicating them to Elinor. She could soon tell at what

coachmaker's the new carriage was building, by what painter Mr.

Willoughby's portrait was drawn, and at what warehouse Miss

Grey's clothes might be seen.

The calm and polite unconcern of Lady Middleton on the

occasion was a happy relief to Elinor's spirits, oppressed as they

often were by the clamorous kindness of the others. It was a great

comfort to her to be sure of exciting no interest in one person at

least among their circle of friends; a great comfort to know that

there was one who would meet her without feeling any curiosity

after particulars, or any anxiety for her sister's health.

Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of

the moment, to more than its real value; and she was sometimes

worried down by officious condolence to rate good-breeding as

more indispensable to comfort than good-nature.

Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about once

every day, or twice, if the subject occurred very often, by saying,

"It is very shocking, indeed!" and by the means of this continual

though gentle vent, was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods

from the first without the smallest emotion, but very soon to see

them without recollecting a word of the matter; and having thus

supported the dignity of her own sex, and spoken her decided

censure of what was wrong in the other, she thought herself at

liberty to attend to the interest of her own assemblies, and

therefore determined (though rather against the opinion of Sir

John) that as Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of

elegance and fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she

married.

Colonel Brandon's delicate, unobtrusive inquiries were never

unwelcome to Miss Dashwood. He had abundantly earned the

privilege of intimate discussion of her sister's disappointment, by

the friendly zeal with which he had endeavoured to soften it, and

they always conversed with confidence. His chief reward for the

painfulexertion of disclosing past sorrows and present

humiliations, was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne

sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her voice

whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged, or

could oblige herself to speak to him. These assured him that his

exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself,

and these gave Elinor hopes of its being farther augmented

hereafter; but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who

knew only that the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that

she could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor

commission her to make it for him, began, at the end of two days,

to think that, instead of Midsummer, they would not be married

till Michaelmas, and by the end of a week that it would not be a

match at all. The good understanding between the Colonel and

Miss Dashwood seemed rather to declare that the honours of the

mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would all be made

over to her; and Mrs. Jennings had, for some time ceased to think

at all of Mr. Ferrars.

Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt of

Willoughby's letter, Elinor had the painful office of informing her

sister that he was married. She had taken care to have the

intelligence conveyed to herself, as soon as it was known that the

ceremony was over, as she was desirous that Marianne should not

receive the first notice of it from the public papers, which she saw

her eagerly examining every morning.

She received the news with resolutecomposure; made no

observation on it, and at first shed no tears; but after a short time

they would burst out, and for the rest of the day, she was in a state

hardly less pitiable than when she first learnt to expect the event.

The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were married; and

Elinor now hoped, as there could be no danger of her seeing either

of them, to prevail on her sister, who had never yet left the house

since the blow first fell, to go out again by degrees as she had done

before.

About this time the two Miss Steeles, lately arrived at their

cousin's house in Bartlett's Buildings, Holburn, presented

themselves again before their more grand relations in Conduit and

Berkeley-street; and were welcomed by them all with great

cordiality.

Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presence always gave

her pain, and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return

to the overpowering delight of Lucy in finding her still in town.

"I should have been quite disappointed if I had not found you

here still," said she repeatedly, with a strong emphasis on the

word. "But I always thought I should. I was almost sure you would

not leave London yet awhile; though you told me, you know, at

Barton, that you should not stay above a month. But I thought, at

the time, that you would most likely change your mind when it

came to the point. It would have been such a great pity to have

went away before your brother and sister came. And now to be

sure you will be in no hurry to be gone. I am amazingly glad you

did not keep to your word."

Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to use all her

self-command to make it appear that she did not.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did you travel?"

"Not in the stage, I assure you," replied Miss Steele, with quick

exultation; "we came post all the way, and had a very smart beau

to attend us. Dr. Davies was coming to town, and so we thought

we'd join him in a post-chaise; and he behaved very genteelly, and

paid ten or twelve shillings more than we did."

"Oh, oh!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "very pretty, indeed! and the

Doctor is a single man, I warrant you."

"There now," said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering,

"everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think

why. My cousins say they are sure I have made a conquest; but for

my part I declare I never think about him from one hour's end to

another. 'Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,' my cousin said

t'other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. My

beau, indeed! said I―I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is

no beau of mine."

"Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking―but it won't do―the

Doctor is the man, I see."

"No, indeed!" replied her cousin, with affectedearnestness,

"and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of."

Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that

she certainly would not, and Miss Steele was made completely

happy.

"I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister,

Miss Dashwood, when they come to town," said Lucy, returning,

after a cessation of hostile hints, to the charge.

"No, I do not think we shall."

"Oh, yes, I dare say you will."

Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition.

"What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood can spare you

both for so long a time together!"

"Long a time, indeed!" interposed Mrs. Jennings. "Why, their

visit is but just begun!"

Lucy was silenced.

"I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood," said

Miss Steele. "I am sorry she is not well;" for Marianne had left the

room on their arrival.

"You are very good. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the

pleasure of seeing you; but she has been very much plagued lately

with nervous head-aches, which make her unfit for company or

conversation."

"Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and

me!―I think she might see us; and I am sure we would not speak a

word."

Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal. Her sister was

perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her dressing gown, and

therefore not able to come to them.

"Oh, if that's all," cried Miss Steele, "we can just as well go and

see her."

Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper;

but she was saved the trouble of checking it, by Lucy's sharp

reprimand, which now, as on many occasions, though it did not

give much sweetness to the manners of one sister, was of

advantage in governing those of the other.
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