CHAPTER 48
Elinor now found the difference between the expectation of anunpleasant event, however certain the mind may be told to consider it,and certainty itself. She now found, that in spite of herself, she hadalways admitted a hope, while Edward remained single, that somethingwould occur to prevent his marrying Lucy; that some resolution of hisown, some mediation of friends, or some more eligible opportunity ofestablishment for the lady, would arise to assist the happiness of all.But he was now married; and she condemned her heart for the lurkingflattery, which so much heightened the pain of the intelligence.
That he should be married soon, before (as she imagined) he could be inorders, and consequently before he could be in possession of theliving, surprised her a little at first. But she soon saw how likelyit was that Lucy, in her self-provident care, in her haste to securehim, should overlook every thing but the risk of delay. They weremarried, married in town, and now hastening down to her uncle's. Whathad Edward felt on being within four miles from Barton, on seeing hermother's servant, on hearing Lucy's message!
They would soon, she supposed, be settled at Delaford.--Delaford,--thatplace in which so much conspired to give her an interest; which shewished to be acquainted with, and yet desired to avoid. She saw themin an instant in their parsonage-house; saw in Lucy, the active,contriving manager, uniting at once a desire of smart appearance withthe utmost frugality, and ashamed to be suspected of half hereconomical practices;--pursuing her own interest in every thought,courting the favour of Colonel Brandon, of Mrs. Jennings, and of everywealthy friend. In Edward--she knew not what she saw, nor what shewished to see;--happy or unhappy,--nothing pleased her; she turned awayher head from every sketch of him.
Elinor flattered herself that some one of their connections in Londonwould write to them to announce the event, and give fartherparticulars,--but day after day passed off, and brought no letter, notidings. Though uncertain that any one were to blame, she found faultwith every absent friend. They were all thoughtless or indolent.
When do you write to Colonel Brandon, ma'am? was an inquiry whichsprung from the impatience of her mind to have something going on.
I wrote to him, my love, last week, and rather expect to see, than tohear from him again. I earnestly pressed his coming to us, and shouldnot be surprised to see him walk in today or tomorrow, or any day.
This was gaining something, something to look forward to. ColonelBrandon must have some information to give.
Scarcely had she so determined it, when the figure of a man onhorseback drew her eyes to the window. He stopt at their gate. It wasa gentleman, it was Colonel Brandon himself. Now she could hear more;and she trembled in expectation of it. But--it was NOT ColonelBrandon--neither his air--nor his height. Were it possible, she mustsay it must be Edward. She looked again. He had just dismounted;--shecould not be mistaken,--it WAS Edward. She moved away and sat down.He comes from Mr. Pratt's purposely to see us. I WILL be calm; I WILLbe mistress of myself.
In a moment she perceived that the others were likewise aware of themistake. She saw her mother and Marianne change colour; saw them lookat herself, and whisper a few sentences to each other. She would havegiven the world to be able to speak--and to make them understand thatshe hoped no coolness, no slight, would appear in their behaviour tohim;--but she had no utterance, and was obliged to leave all to theirown discretion.
Not a syllable passed aloud. They all waited in silence for theappearance of their visitor. His footsteps were heard along the gravelpath; in a moment he was in the passage, and in another he was beforethem.
His countenance, as he entered the room, was not too happy, even forElinor. His complexion was white with agitation, and he looked as iffearful of his reception, and conscious that he merited no kind one.Mrs. Dashwood, however, conforming, as she trusted, to the wishes ofthat daughter, by whom she then meant in the warmth of her heart to beguided in every thing, met with a look of forced complacency, gave himher hand, and wished him joy.
He coloured, and stammered out an unintelligible reply. Elinor's lipshad moved with her mother's, and, when the moment of action was over,she wished that she had shaken hands with him too. But it was then toolate, and with a countenance meaning to be open, she sat down again andtalked of the weather.
Marianne had retreated as much as possible out of sight, to conceal herdistress; and Margaret, understanding some part, but not the whole ofthe case, thought it incumbent on her to be dignified, and thereforetook a seat as far from him as she could, and maintained a strictsilence.
When Elinor had ceased to rejoice in the dryness of the season, a veryawful pause took place. It was put an end to by Mrs. Dashwood, whofelt obliged to hope that he had left Mrs. Ferrars very well. In ahurried manner, he replied in the affirmative.
Another pause.
Elinor resolving to exert herself, though fearing the sound of her ownvoice, now said,
Is Mrs. Ferrars at Longstaple?
At Longstaple! he replied, with an air of surprise.-- No, my motheris in town.
I meant, said Elinor, taking up some work from the table, to inquirefor Mrs. EDWARD Ferrars.
She dared not look up;--but her mother and Marianne both turned theireyes on him. He coloured, seemed perplexed, looked doubtingly, and,after some hesitation, said,--
Perhaps you mean--my brother--you mean Mrs.--Mrs. ROBERT Ferrars.
Mrs. Robert Ferrars!--was repeated by Marianne and her mother in anaccent of the utmost amazement;--and though Elinor could not speak,even HER eyes were fixed on him with the same impatient wonder. Herose from his seat, and walked to the window, apparently from notknowing what to do; took up a pair of scissors that lay there, andwhile spoiling both them and their sheath by cutting the latter topieces as he spoke, said, in a hurried voice,
Perhaps you do not know--you may not have heard that my brother islately married to--to the youngest--to Miss Lucy Steele.
His words were echoed with unspeakable astonishment by all but Elinor,who sat with her head leaning over her work, in a state of suchagitation as made her hardly know where she was.
Yes, said he, they were married last week, and are now at Dawlish.
Elinor could sit it no longer. She almost ran out of the room, and assoon as the door was closed, burst into tears of joy, which at firstshe thought would never cease. Edward, who had till then looked anywhere, rather than at her, saw her hurry away, and perhaps saw--or evenheard, her emotion; for immediately afterwards he fell into a reverie,which no remarks, no inquiries, no affectionate address of Mrs.Dashwood could penetrate, and at last, without saying a word, quittedthe room, and walked out towards the village--leaving the others in thegreatest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his situation, sowonderful and so sudden;--a perplexity which they had no means oflessening but by their own conjectures.