After a proper resistance on the part of Mrs. Ferrars, just so
violent and so steady as to preserve her from that reproach which
she always seemed fearful of incurring,
the reproach of being too
amiable, Edward was admitted to her presence, and pronounced to be again her son.
Her family had of late been exceedingly fluctuating. For many
years of her life she had had two sons; but the crime and annihilation
of Edward, a few weeks ago, had robbed her of one; the similar
annihilation of Robert had left her for a fortnight without any; and
now, by the resuscitation of Edward, she had one again.
In spite of his being allowed once more to live, however, he did
not feel the continuance of his existence secure till he had
revealed his present engagement; for the publication of that
circumstance, he feared, might give a sudden turn to his constitution,
and carry him off as rapidly as before. With apprehensive caution,
therefore, it was revealed; and he was listened to with unexpected
calmness. Mrs. Ferrars at first reasonably endeavoured to dissuade him
from marrying Miss Dashwood, by every argument in her power; told him,
that in Miss Morton he would have a woman of higher rank and larger
fortune; and enforced the assertion, by observing that Miss Morton was
the daughter of a nobleman with thirty thousand pounds, while Miss
Dashwood was only the daughter of a private gentleman with no more
than three; but when she found that, though perfectly admitting the
truth of her representation, he was by no means inclined to be
guided by it, she judged it wisest, from the experience of the past,
to submit; and, therefore, after such an ungracious delay as she
owed to her own dignity, and as served to prevent every suspicion of
good-will, she issued her decree of consent to the marriage of Edward and Elinor.
What she would engage to do towards augmenting their income was
next to be considered; and here it plainly appeared, that though
Edward was now her only son, he was by no means her eldest; for
while Robert was inevitably endowed with a thousand pounds a year, not
the smallest objection was made against Edward's taking orders for the
sake of two hundred and fifty at the utmost; nor was anything promised
either for the present or in future, beyond the ten thousand pounds,
which had been given with Fanny.
It was as much, however, as was desired, and more than was
expected, by Edward and Elinor; and Mrs. Ferrars herself, by her
shuffling excuses, seemed the only person surprised at her not giving more.
With an income quite sufficient to their wants thus secured to
them, they had nothing to wait for after Edward was in possession of
the living but the readiness of the house, to which Colonel Brandon,
with an eager desire for the accommodation of Elinor, was making
considerable improvements; and after waiting some time for their
completion,- after experiencing, as usual, a thousand
disappointments and delays; from the unaccountable dilatoriness of the
workmen,- Elinor, as usual, broke through the first positive
resolution, of not marrying till every thing was ready; and the
ceremony took place in Barton church early in the autumn.
The first month after their marriage was spent with their friend
at the mansion-house; from whence they could superintend the
progress of the parsonage, and direct every thing as they liked on the
spot; could choose papers, project shrubberies, and invent a sweep.
Mrs. Jennings's prophecies, though rather jumbled together, were
chiefly fulfilled; for she was able to visit Edward and his wife in
their parsonage by Michaelmas; and she found in Elinor and her
husband, as she really believed, one of the happiest couples in the
world. They had, in fact, nothing to wish for, but the marriage of
Colonel Brandon and Marianne, and rather better pasturage for their cows.
They were visited on their first settling by almost all their
relations and friends. Mrs. Ferrars came to inspect the happiness
which she was almost ashamed of having authorised; and even the
Dashwoods were at the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them honour.
"I will not say that I am disappointed, my dear sister," said
John, as they were walking together one morning before the gates of
Delaford House, "that would be saying too much; for certainly you have
been one of the most fortunate young women in the world, as it is.
But, I confess, it would give me great pleasure to call Colonel
Brandon brother. His property here, his place, his house,- every thing
is in such respectable and excellent condition! And his woods,- I have
not seen such timber any where in Dorsetshire as there is now standing
in Delaford Hanger! And though, perhaps, Marianne may not seem exactly
the person to attract him, yet I think it would altogether be
advisable for you to have them now frequently staying with you; for,
as Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home, nobody can tell what
may happen; for, when people are much thrown together, and see
little of any body else,- and it will always be in your power to set
her off to advantage, and so forth. In short, you may as well give her
a chance: you understand me."
But though Mrs. Ferrars did come to see them, and always treated
them with the make-believe of decent affection, they were never
insulted by her real favor and preference. That was due to the folly
of Robert, and the cunning of his wife and it was earned by them
before many months had passed away. The selfish sagacity of the
latter, which had at first drawn Robert into the scrape, was the
principal instrument of his deliverance from it; for her respectful
humility, assiduous attentions, and endless flatteries, as soon as the
smallest opening was given for their exercise, reconciled Mrs. Ferrars
to his choice, and reestablished him completely in her favor.
The whole of Lucy's behaviour in the affair, and the prosperity
which crowned it, therefore, may be held forth as a most encouraging
instance of what an earnest, an unceasing attention to
self-interest, however its progress may be apparently obstructed, will
do in securing every advantage of fortune, with no other sacrifice
than that of time and conscience. When Robert first sought her
acquaintance, and privately visited her in Bartlett's Buildings, it
was only with the view imputed to him by his brother. He merely
meant to persuade her to give up the engagement; and as there could be
nothing to overcome but the affection of both, he naturally expected
that one or two interviews would settle the matter. In that point,
however, and that only, he erred; for though Lucy soon gave him
hopes that his eloquence would convince her in time, another visit,
another conversation, was always wanted to produce this conviction.
Some doubts always lingered in her mind when they parted, which
could only be removed by another half hour's discourse with himself.
His attendance was by this means secured, and the rest followed in
course. Instead of talking of Edward, they came gradually to talk only
of Robert,- a subject on which he had always more to say than on any
other, and in which she soon betrayed an interest even equal to his
own; and, in short, it became speedily evident to both, that he had
entirely supplanted his brother. He was proud of his conquest, proud
of tricking Edward, and very proud of marrying privately without his
mother's consent. What immediately followed is known. They passed some
months in great happiness at Dawlish; for she had many relations and
old acquaintances to cut- and he drew several plans for magnificent
cottages; and from thence returning to town procured the forgiveness
of Mrs. Ferrars, by the simple expedient of asking it, which, at
Lucy's instigation, was adopted. The forgiveness, at first, indeed, as
was reasonable, comprehended only Robert; and Lucy, who had owed his
mother no duty and therefore could have transgressed none, still
remained some weeks longer unpardoned. But perseverance in humility of
conduct and messages, in self-condemnation for Robert's offence, and
gratitude for the unkindness she was treated with, procured her in
time the haughty notice which overcame her by its graciousness, and
led soon afterwards, by rapid degrees, to the highest state of
affection and influence. Lucy became as necessary to Mrs. Ferrars as
either Robert or Fanny; and while Edward was never cordially
forgiven for having once intended to marry her, and Elinor, though
superior to her in fortune and birth, was spoken of as an intruder,
she was in everything considered, and always openly acknowledged, to
be a favourite child. They settled in town, received very liberal
assistance from Mrs. Ferrars, were on the best terms imaginable with
the Dashwoods; and, setting aside the jealousies and ill-will
continually subsisting between Fanny and Lucy, in which their husbands
of course took a part, as well as the frequent domestic
disagreements between Robert and Lucy themselves, nothing could exceed
the harmony in which they all lived together.
What Edward had done to forfeit the right of eldest son might have
puzzled many people to find out; and what Robert had done to succeed
to it might have puzzled them still more. It was an arrangement,
however, justified in its effects, if not in its cause; for nothing
ever appeared in Robert's style of living or of talking to give a
suspicion of his regretting the extent of his income, as either
leaving his brother too little, or bringing himself too much; and if
Edward might be judged from the ready discharge of his duties in every
particular, from an increasing attachment to his wife and his home,
and from the regular cheerfulness of his spirits, he might be supposed
no less contented with his lot, no less free from every wish of an exchange.
Elinor's marriage divided her as little from her family as could
well be contrived, without rendering the cottage at Barton entirely
useless, for her mother and sisters spent much more than half their
time with her. Mrs. Dashwood was acting on motives of policy as well
as pleasure in the frequency of her visits at Delaford; for her wish
of bringing Marianne and Colonel Brandon together was hardly less
earnest, though rather more liberal than what John had expressed. It
was now her darling object. Precious as was the company of her
daughter to her, she desired nothing so much as to give up its
constant enjoyment to her valued friend; and to see Marianne settled
at the mansion-house was equally the wish of Edward and Elinor. They
each felt his sorrows, and their own obligations, and Marianne, by
general consent, was to be the reward of all.
With such a confederacy against her- with a knowledge so
intimate of his goodness- with a conviction of his fond attachment
to herself, which at last, though long after it was observable to
everybody else- burst on her- what could she do?
Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was
born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract,
by her conduct, her most favourite maxims. She was born to overcome an
affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and with no
sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily
to give her hand to another!- and that other, a man who had suffered
no less than herself under the event of a former attachment, whom, two
years before, she had considered too old to be married,- and who still
sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat!
But so it was. Instead of falling a sacrifice to an irresistible
passion, as once she had fondly flattered herself with expecting,
instead of remaining even for ever with her mother, and finding her
only pleasures in retirement and study, as afterwards in her more calm
and sober judgment she had determined on, she found herself at
nineteen submitting to new attachments, entering on new duties, placed
in a new home, a wife, the mistress of a family, and the patroness of a village.
Colonel Brandon was now as happy as all those who best loved him
believed he deserved to be: in Marianne he was consoled for every past
affliction: her regard and her society restored his mind to
animation, and his spirits to cheerfulness; and that Marianne found
her own happiness in forming his, was equally the persuasion and
delight of each observing friend. Marianne could never love by halves;
and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to her husband as
it had once been to Willoughby.
Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without a pang; and
his punishment was soon afterwards complete, in the voluntary
forgiveness of Mrs. Smith, who, by stating his marriage with a woman
of character as the source of her clemency, gave him reason for
believing that had he behaved with honour towards Marianne he might at
once have been happy and rich. That his repentance of misconduct,
which thus brought its own punishment, was sincere, need not be
doubted; nor that he long thought of Colonel Brandon with envy, and of
Marianne with regret. But that he was for ever inconsolable, that he
fled from society, or contracted an habitual gloom of temper, or
died of a broken heart, must not be depended on- for he did neither.
He lived to exert, and frequently to enjoy himself. His wife was not
always out of humour, nor his home always uncomfortable; and in his
breed of horses and dogs, and in sporting of every kind, he found no
inconsiderable degree of domestic felicity.
For Marianne, however, in spite of his incivility in surviving her
loss, he always retained that decided regard which interested him in
every thing that befell her, and made her his secret standard of
perfection in woman; and many a rising beauty would be slighted by him
in after-days as bearing no comparison with Mrs. Brandon.
Mrs. Dashwood was prudent enough to remain at the cottage
without attempting a removal to Delaford; and, fortunately for Sir
John and Mrs. Jennings, when Marianne was taken from them, Margaret
had reached an age highly suitable for dancing, and not very
ineligible for being supposed to have a lover.
Between Barton and Delaford there was that constant
communication which strong family affection would naturally dictate;
and among the merits and the happiness of Elinor and Marianne, let
it not be ranked as the least considerable, that, though sisters,
and living almost within sight of each other, they could live
without disagreement between themselves, or producing coolness between
their husbands.
THE END
Sense and Sensibility - Chapter 49 Sense and Sensibility