CHAPTER XXIV.
In a firm, though cautious tone, Elinor thus began.
“I should be undeserving of the confidence you have honoured me with,
if I felt no desire for its continuance, or no farther curiosity on its subject. I
will not apologize therefore for bringing it forward again.”
“Thank you,” cried Lucy warmly, “for breaking the ice; you have set my
heart at ease by it; for I was somehow or other afraid I had offended you by
what I told you that Monday.”
“Offended me! How could you suppose so? Believe me,” and Elinor
spoke it with the truest sincerity, “nothing could be farther from my
intention than to give you such an idea. Could you have a motive for the
trust, that was not honourable and flattering to me?”
“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. I felt sure that you was angry
with me; and have been quarrelling with myself ever since, for having took
such a liberty as to trouble you with my affairs. But I am very glad to find it
was only my own fancy, and that you really do not blame me. If you knew
what a consolation it was to me to relieve my heart speaking to you of what
I am always thinking of every moment of my life, your compassion would
make you overlook every thing else I am sure.”
“Indeed, I can easily believe that it was a very great relief to you, to
acknowledge your situation to me, and be assured that you shall never have
reason to repent it. Your case is a very unfortunate one; 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 two thousand pounds 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 have been always 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 mother 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 be an alarming prospect; but
Edward’s affection and constancy nothing can deprive me of I know.”
“That conviction must be every thing to you; and he is undoubtedly
supported by the same trust in your’s. If the strength of your reciprocal
attachment had failed, as between many people, and under many
circumstances it naturally would during a four years’ engagement, your
situation would have been pitiable, indeed.”
Lucy here looked up; but Elinor was careful in guarding her countenance
from every expression that could give her words a suspicious tendency.
“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, and it has stood
the trial so well, that I should be unpardonable to doubt it now. I can safely
say that he has never gave me one moment’s alarm on that account from the
first.”
Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this assertion.
Lucy went on. “I am rather of a jealous temper too by nature, and from
our different situations in life, from his being so much more in the world
than me, and 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, or any lowness of spirits
that I could not account for, or if he had talked more of one lady than
another, or seemed in any respect less happy at Longstaple than he used to
be. I do not mean to say that I am particularly observant or quick-sighted in
general, but in such a case I am sure I could not be deceived.”
“All this,” thought Elinor, “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’s death, which is a melancholy and
shocking extremity?—Is her son determined to submit to this, and to all the
tediousness of the many years of suspense in which it may involve you,
rather than run the risk of her displeasure for a while by owning the truth?”
“If we could be certain that it would be only for a while! But Mrs. Ferrars
is a very headstrong proud woman, and in her first fit of anger upon hearing
it, would very likely secure every thing 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 you are carrying your disinterestedness
beyond reason.”
Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent.
“Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars?” asked Elinor.
“Not at all—I never saw him; but I fancy he is very unlike his brother—
silly and a great coxcomb.”
“A great coxcomb!” repeated Miss Steele, whose ear had caught those
words by a sudden pause in Marianne’s music. “Oh, they are talking of their
favourite beaux, I dare say.”
“No sister,” cried Lucy, “you are mistaken there, our favourite beaux are
not great coxcombs.”
“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 beau is quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss Dashwood’s.”
Elinor 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, though Marianne was then giving them the
powerful protection of a very magnificent concerto,—
“I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has lately come into my
head, for bringing matters to bear; indeed I am bound to let you into the
secret, for you are a party concerned. I dare say you have seen enough of
Edward to know that he would prefer the church to every other profession;
now my plan is that he should take orders as soon as he can, and then
through your interest, which I am sure you would be kind enough to use out
of friendship for him, and I hope out of some regard to me, your brother
might be persuaded to give him Norland living; which I understand is a
very good one, and the present incumbent not likely to live a great while.
That would be enough for us to marry upon, and we might trust to time and
chance for the rest.”
“I should always be happy,” replied Elinor, “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 recommendation enough to her
husband.”
“But Mrs. John Dashwood would not much approve of Edward’s going
into orders.”
“Then I rather suspect that 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 Elinor, with a smile, which concealed very agitated
feelings, “on such a subject I certainly will not. You know very well that my
opinion would have no weight with you, unless it were on the side of your
wishes.”
“Indeed you wrong me,” replied Lucy, with great solemnity; “I know
nobody of whose judgment I think so highly as I do of yours; and I do
really believe, that if you was to say to me, ‘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.”
Elinor 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. It raises my influence much too high; 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,
and laying a particular stress on those words, “that your judgment might
justly have such weight with me. If you could be supposed to be biased in
any respect by your own feelings, your opinion would not be worth
having.”
Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this, lest they might
provoke each other to an unsuitable increase of ease and unreserve; and was
even partly determined never to mention the subject again. Another pause
therefore 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 with all her
accustomary complacency.
“Certainly not.”
“I am sorry for that,” returned the other, while her eyes brightened at the
information, “it would have gave 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! I had quite depended upon meeting you there.
Anne and me are to go the latter end of January to some relations who have
been wanting us to visit them these several years! But I only go for the sake
of seeing Edward. He will be there in February, otherwise London would
have no charms for me; I have not spirits for it.”
Elinor 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, to which both of them submitted without any reluctance, for nothing
had been said on either side to make them dislike each other less than they
had done before; and Elinor sat down to the card table with the 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 Elinor, and when entered
on by Lucy, who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing it, and was
particularly careful to inform her confidante, of her happiness whenever she
received a letter from Edward, 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. Their favour increased; they could not be
spared; Sir John would not hear of their going; and in spite of their
numerous and long arranged engagements in Exeter, in spite of the absolute
necessity of returning to fulfill them immediately, which was in full force at
the end of every week, 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.
