feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/sparknotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_8_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapters 37-41
feat_summary_id: chapters 37-41
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapters 37-41", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210123003206/https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/sensibility/section9/", "summary": "Mrs. Jennings returns home from a visit to Mrs. Palmer with the shocking news that Lucy Steele and Edward Ferrars have been engaged to one another for over a year. Elinor, upon hearing that their engagement has at last become public, shares the news with her sister. Marianne cannot believe that Elinor has known of Edward's secret engagement for four months, for her sister has remained calm and composed throughout the entire period. John Dashwood visits his sisters at Mrs. Jennings's home and informs them that Fanny is in hysterics on account of the news. He also relates that Mrs. Ferrars has insisted that Edward must extricate himself from the attachment, or she will disown and disinherit him. The following Sunday, during a visit with Mrs. Jennings to Kensington Gardens, Elinor learns from Miss Anne Steele that Edward has refused to break off his engagement with Lucy. His mother has therefore transferred her estate to Edward's younger brother, Robert. As Miss Steele relates, Edward has informed Lucy that without his mother's inheritance, he will have to obtain a curacy and live modestly, but Lucy has proclaimed her devotion to him regardless of his economic situation. This information is confirmed in a letter from Lucy expressing to Elinor her commitment to Edward. Elinor and Marianne, anxious to leave London and return home, arrange to depart with the Palmers and visit them in Cleveland before heading back to Barton. Before they leave, Colonel Brandon visits Elinor and tells her that he has decided to offer his living at the Delaford rectory to Edward as a means of supporting himself. The Colonel asks Elinor to inform Edward of his offer, and Elinor finds herself in the rather uncomfortable position of facilitating the marriage of the man she loves to another woman. She begins writing a letter to Edward when Mrs. Jennings suddenly welcomes him into her home and she is afforded the opportunity to speak with him directly. Edward is astonished and deeply moved by the Colonel's generosity. Elinor goes off to visit Fanny Dashwood, who has not been feeling well since the news of Edward and Lucy's engagement. She is greeted at the door by John Dashwood, who shares the news that Robert Ferrars will inherit his mother's estate in place of his brother. Just then, Robert Ferrars arrives and expresses his pity for his older brother. John leaves them to inform his wife of Elinor's presence, and Fanny Dashwood, upon receiving Elinor, expresses her regret that the Dashwood sisters will be leaving town so soon.", "analysis": "Commentary When Miss Steele accidentally lets slip the secret of her sister's engagement to Edward Ferrars, their relationship becomes no longer an \"attachment\" but a \"connection.\" An attachment is an emotional association between two people; to form an attachment is to fall in love. In contrast, a connection is the public bond involving a range of associations between individuals and their families. When Lucy and Edward were attached to one another, they were simply secretly in love with one another; once Miss Steele makes their engagement public, their families become heavily involved in an ever-widening circle of legal and economic implications. For example, Mrs. Ferrars announces that she will disinherit her son if he marries Lucy instead of the wealthy heiress Miss Morton, and Colonel Brandon offers Edward a living to support his wife. Thus, when the attachment becomes a connection, the number of individuals involved in the relationship increases considerably. Connections link family members to one another in concern for their mutual welfare. These bonds are so strong that it is unusual to find people behaving warmly and generously toward those they are not related to. Thus, John Dashwood cannot understand why Colonel Brandon offers Edward a living  Brandon, we know, is acting solely on the basis of voluntary fellow-feeling. He empathizes with Edward because he, too, has known the pain of love accompanied by tremendous emotional distress. Furthermore, he respects Edward because he knows that Edward has Elinor's admiration. Therefore, he offers Edward a means of supporting a wife in spite of his disinheritance. But for John Dashwood, only family ties could provide the grounds for such a kind and generous gesture."}
text: 
  
  Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that her mother felt
  it no longer necessary to give up the whole of her time to her; and,
  contenting herself with visiting her once or twice a day, returned from
  that period to her own home, and her own habits, in which she found the
  Miss Dashwoods very ready to resume their former share.
  
  About the third or fourth morning after their being thus resettled in
  Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings, on returning from her ordinary visit to
  Mrs. Palmer, entered the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by
  herself, with an air of such hurrying importance as prepared her to
  hear something wonderful; and giving her time only to form that idea,
  began directly to justify it, by saying,
  
  "Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?"
  
  "No, ma'am.  What is it?"
  
  "Something so strange!  But you shall hear it all.-- When I got to Mr.
  Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in a fuss about the child.  She was
  sure it was very ill--it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples.
  So I looked at it directly, and, 'Lord! my dear,' says I, 'it is
  nothing in the world, but the red gum--' and nurse said just the same.
  But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so Mr. Donavan was sent for;
  and luckily he happened to just come in from Harley Street, so he
  stepped over directly, and as soon as ever Mama, he said
  just as we did, that it was nothing in the world but the red gum, and
  then Charlotte was easy.  And so, just as he was going away again, it
  came into my head, I am sure I do not know how I happened to think of
  it, but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news.  So upon
  that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave, and seemed to know
  something or other, and at last he said in a whisper, 'For fear any
  unpleasant report should reach the young ladies under your care as to
  their sister's indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I
  believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs. Dashwood will
  do very well.'"
  
  "What! is Fanny ill?"
  
  "That is exactly what I said, my dear.  'Lord!' says I, 'is Mrs.
  Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and the long and the short of
  the matter, by all I can learn, seems to be this.  Mr. Edward Ferrars,
  the very young man I used to joke with you about (but however, as it
  turns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thing in it), Mr.
  Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engaged above this twelvemonth to my
  cousin Lucy!--There's for you, my dear!--And not a creature knowing a
  syllable of the matter, except Nancy!--Could you have believed such a
  thing possible?-- There is no great wonder in their liking one another;
  but that matters should be brought so forward between them, and nobody
  suspect it!--THAT is strange!--I never happened to see them together,
  or I am sure I should have found it out directly.  Well, and so this
  was kept a great secret, for fear of Mrs. Ferrars, and neither she nor
  your brother or sister suspected a word of the matter;--till this very
  morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature, but no
  conjurer, popt it all out.  'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are
  all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about it;'
  and so, away she went to your sister, who was sitting all alone at her
  carpet-work, little suspecting what was to come--for she had just been
  saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that she thought to
  make a match between Edward and some Lord's daughter or other, I forget
  who.  So you may think what a blow it was to all her vanity and pride.
  She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such screams as
  reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his own dressing-room
  down stairs, thinking about writing a letter to his steward in the
  country.  So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for
  Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming what was going on.
  Poor soul!  I pity HER.  And I must say, I think she was used very
  hardly; for your sister scolded like any fury, and soon drove her into
  a fainting fit.  Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cried bitterly;
  and your brother, he walked about the room, and said he did not know
  what to do.  Mrs. Dashwood declared they should not stay a minute
  longer in the house, and your brother was forced to go down upon HIS
  knees too, to persuade her to let them stay till they had packed up
  their clothes.  THEN she fell into hysterics again, and he was so
  frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan, and Mr. Donavan found
  the house in all this uproar.  The carriage was at the door ready to
  take my poor cousins away, and they were just stepping in as he came
  off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, she could hardly walk; and
  Nancy, she was almost as bad.  I declare, I have no patience with your
  sister; and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of
  her.  Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward will be in when he hears of
  it!  To have his love used so scornfully! for they say he is monstrous
  fond of her, as well he may.  I should not wonder, if he was to be in
  the greatest passion!--and Mr. Donavan thinks just the same.  He and I
  had a great deal of talk about it; and the best of all is, that he is
  gone back again to Harley Street, that he may be within call when Mrs.
  Ferrars is told of it, for she was sent for as soon as ever my cousins
  left the house, for your sister was sure SHE would be in hysterics too;
  and so she may, for what I care.  I have no pity for either of them.  I
  have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and
  greatness.  There is no reason on earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should
  not marry; for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars may afford to do very well by her
  son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself, she knows better than
  any body how to make the most of every thing; I dare say, if Mrs.
  Ferrars would only allow him five hundred a-year, she would make as
  good an appearance with it as any body else would with eight.  Lord!
  how snug they might live in such another cottage as yours--or a little
  bigger--with two maids, and two men; and I believe I could help them to
  a housemaid, for my Betty has a sister out of place, that would fit
  them exactly."
  
  Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had time enough to collect
  her thoughts, she was able to give such an answer, and make such
  observations, as the subject might naturally be supposed to produce.
  Happy to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinary interest
  in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of late often hoped might be the
  case) had ceased to imagine her at all attached to Edward; and happy
  above all the rest, in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well able
  to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and to give her judgment,
  as she believed, with impartiality on the conduct of every one
  concerned in it.
  
  She could hardly determine what her own expectation of its event really
  was; though she earnestly tried to drive away the notion of its being
  possible to end otherwise at last, than in the marriage of Edward and
  Lucy.  What Mrs. Ferrars would say and do, though there could not be a
  doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear; and still more anxious to
  know how Edward would conduct himself.  For HIM she felt much
  compassion;--for Lucy very little--and it cost her some pains to
  procure that little;--for the rest of the party none at all.
  
  As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor soon saw the
  necessity of preparing Marianne for its discussion.  No time was to be
  lost in undeceiving her, in making her acquainted with the real truth,
  and in endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others,
  without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her sister, or any
  resentment against Edward.
  
  Elinor's office was a painful one.--She was going to remove what she
  really believed to be her sister's chief consolation,--to give such
  particulars of Edward as she feared would ruin him for ever in her good
  opinion,-and to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations,
  which to HER fancy would seem strong, feel all her own disappointment
  over again.  But unwelcome as such a task must be, it was necessary to
  be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it.
  
  She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own feelings, or to
  represent herself as suffering much, any otherwise than as the
  self-command she had practised since her first knowledge of Edward's
  engagement, might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne.
  Her narration was clear and simple; and though it could not be given
  without emotion, it was not accompanied by violent agitation, nor
  impetuous grief.--THAT belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne
  listened with horror, and cried excessively.  Elinor was to be the
  comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs; and
  all the comfort that could be given by assurances of her own composure
  of mind, and a very earnest vindication of Edward from every charge but
  of imprudence, was readily offered.
  
  But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither.  Edward seemed
  a second Willoughby; and acknowledging as Elinor did, that she HAD
  loved him most sincerely, could she feel less than herself!  As for
  Lucy Steele, she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutely
  incapable of attaching a sensible man, that she could not be persuaded
  at first to believe, and afterwards to pardon, any former affection of
  Edward for her.  She would not even admit it to have been natural; and
  Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that which only
  could convince her, a better knowledge of mankind.
  
  Her first communication had reached no farther than to state the fact
  of the engagement, and the length of time it had existed.--Marianne's
  feelings had then broken in, and put an end to all regularity of
  detail; and for some time all that could be done was to soothe her
  distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment.  The first
  question on her side, which led to farther particulars, was,--
  
  "How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has he written to you?"
  
  "I have known it these four months.  When Lucy first came to Barton
  Park last November, she told me in confidence of her engagement."
  
  At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her
  lips could not utter.  After a pause of wonder, she exclaimed--
  
  "Four months!--Have you known of this four months?"
  
  Elinor confirmed it.
  
  "What!--while attending me in all my misery, has this been on your
  heart?--And I have reproached you for being happy!"--
  
  "It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!"
  
  "Four months!"--cried Marianne again.--"So calm!--so cheerful!--how
  have you been supported?"--
  
  "By feeling that I was doing my duty.--My promise to Lucy, obliged me
  to be secret.  I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of
  the truth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in
  them a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to
  satisfy."
  
  Marianne seemed much struck.
  
  "I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother," added
  Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it;--but without betraying
  my trust, I never could have convinced you."
  
  "Four months!--and yet you loved him!"--
  
  "Yes. But I did not love only him;--and while the comfort of others was
  dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt.
  Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion.  I would not have
  you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer
  materially myself.  I have many things to support me.  I am not
  conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my
  own, I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther.
  I acquit Edward of essential misconduct.  I wish him very happy; and I
  am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now he may harbour
  some regret, in the end he must become so.  Lucy does not want sense,
  and that is the foundation on which every thing good may be built.--And
  after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a
  single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's
  happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not
  meant--it is not fit--it is not possible that it should be so.-- Edward
  will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superior in person and
  understanding to half her sex; and time and habit will teach him to
  forget that he ever thought another superior to HER."--
  
  "If such is your way of thinking," said Marianne, "if the loss of what
  is most valued is so easily to be made up by something else, your
  resolution, your self-command, are, perhaps, a little less to be
  wondered at.--They are brought more within my comprehension."
  
  "I understand you.--You do not suppose that I have ever felt much.--For
  four months, Marianne, I have had all this hanging on my mind, without
  being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it
  would make you and my mother most unhappy whenever it were explained to
  you, yet unable to prepare you for it in the least.-- It was told
  me,--it was in a manner forced on me by the very person herself, whose
  prior engagement ruined all my prospects; and told me, as I thought,
  with triumph.-- This person's suspicions, therefore, I have had to
  oppose, by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been most
  deeply interested;--and it has not been only once;--I have had her
  hopes and exultation to listen to again and again.-- I have known
  myself to be divided from Edward for ever, without hearing one
  circumstance that could make me less desire the connection.--Nothing
  has proved him unworthy; nor has anything declared him indifferent to
  me.-- I have had to contend against the unkindness of his sister, and
  the insolence of his mother; and have suffered the punishment of an
  attachment, without enjoying its advantages.-- And all this has been
  going on at a time, when, as you know too well, it has not been my only
  unhappiness.-- If you can think me capable of ever feeling--surely you
  may suppose that I have suffered NOW.  The composure of mind with which
  I have brought myself at present to consider the matter, the
  consolation that I have been willing to admit, have been the effect of
  constant and painful exertion;--they did not spring up of
  themselves;--they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first.-- No,
  Marianne.--THEN, if I had not been bound to silence, perhaps nothing
  could have kept me entirely--not even what I owed to my dearest
  friends--from openly shewing that I was VERY unhappy."--
  
  Marianne was quite subdued.--
  
  "Oh! Elinor," she cried, "you have made me hate myself for ever.--How
  barbarous have I been to you!--you, who have been my only comfort, who
  have borne with me in all my misery, who have seemed to be only
  suffering for me!--Is this my gratitude?--Is this the only return I can
  make you?--Because your merit cries out upon myself, I have been trying
  to do it away."
  
  The tenderest caresses followed this confession.  In such a frame of
  mind as she was now in, Elinor had no difficulty in obtaining from her
  whatever promise she required; and at her request, Marianne engaged
  never to speak of the affair to any one with the least appearance of
  bitterness;--to meet Lucy without betraying the smallest increase of
  dislike to her;--and even to see Edward himself, if chance should bring
  them together, without any diminution of her usual cordiality.-- These
  were great concessions;--but where Marianne felt that she had injured,
  no reparation could be too much for her to make.
  
  She performed her promise of being discreet, to admiration.--She
  attended to all that Mrs. Jennings had to say upon the subject, with an
  unchanging complexion, dissented from her in nothing, and was heard
  three times to say, "Yes, ma'am."--She listened to her praise of Lucy
  with only moving from one chair to another, and when Mrs. Jennings
  talked of Edward's affection, it cost her only a spasm in her
  throat.--Such advances towards heroism in her sister, made Elinor feel
  equal to any thing herself.
  
  The next morning brought a farther trial of it, in a visit from their
  brother, who came with a most serious aspect to talk over the dreadful
  affair, and bring them news of his wife.
  
  "You have heard, I suppose," said he with great solemnity, as soon as
  he was seated, "of the very shocking discovery that took place under
  our roof yesterday."
  
  They all looked their assent; it seemed too awful a moment for speech.
  
  "Your sister," he continued, "has suffered dreadfully.  Mrs. Ferrars
  too--in short it has been a scene of such complicated distress--but I
  will hope that the storm may be weathered without our being any of us
  quite overcome.  Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday.  But I
  would not alarm you too much.  Donavan says there is nothing materially
  to be apprehended; her constitution is a good one, and her resolution
  equal to any thing.  She has borne it all, with the fortitude of an
  angel!  She says she never shall think well of anybody again; and one
  cannot wonder at it, after being so deceived!--meeting with such
  ingratitude, where so much kindness had been shewn, so much confidence
  had been placed!  It was quite out of the benevolence of her heart,
  that she had asked these young women to her house; merely because she
  thought they deserved some attention, were harmless, well-behaved
  girls, and would be pleasant companions; for otherwise we both wished
  very much to have invited you and Marianne to be with us, while your
  kind friend there, was attending her daughter.  And now to be so
  rewarded!  'I wish, with all my heart,' says poor Fanny in her
  affectionate way, 'that we had asked your sisters instead of them.'"
  
  Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done, he went on.
  
  "What poor Mrs. Ferrars suffered, when first Fanny broke it to her, is
  not to be described.  While she with the truest affection had been
  planning a most eligible connection for him, was it to be supposed that
  he could be all the time secretly engaged to another person!--such a
  suspicion could never have entered her head!  If she suspected ANY
  prepossession elsewhere, it could not be in THAT quarter.  'THERE, to
  be sure,' said she, 'I might have thought myself safe.' She was quite
  in an agony.  We consulted together, however, as to what should be
  done, and at last she determined to send for Edward.  He came.  But I
  am sorry to relate what ensued.  All that Mrs. Ferrars could say to
  make him put an end to the engagement, assisted too as you may well
  suppose by my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties, was of no avail.
  Duty, affection, every thing was disregarded.  I never thought Edward
  so stubborn, so unfeeling before.  His mother explained to him her
  liberal designs, in case of his marrying Miss Morton; told him she
  would settle on him the Norfolk estate, which, clear of land-tax,
  brings in a good thousand a-year; offered even, when matters grew
  desperate, to make it twelve hundred; and in opposition to this, if he
  still persisted in this low connection, represented to him the certain
  penury that must attend the match.  His own two thousand pounds she
  protested should be his all; she would never see him again; and so far
  would she be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if he
  were to enter into any profession with a view of better support, she
  would do all in her power to prevent him advancing in it."
  
  Here Marianne, in an ecstasy of indignation, clapped her hands
  together, and cried, "Gracious God!  can this be possible!"
  
  "Well may you wonder, Marianne," replied her brother, "at the obstinacy
  which could resist such arguments as these.  Your exclamation is very
  natural."
  
  Marianne was going to retort, but she remembered her promises, and
  forbore.
  
  "All this, however," he continued, "was urged in vain.  Edward said
  very little; but what he did say, was in the most determined manner.
  Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement.  He would
  stand to it, cost him what it might."
  
  "Then," cried Mrs. Jennings with blunt sincerity, no longer able to be
  silent, "he has acted like an honest man! I beg your pardon, Mr.
  Dashwood, but if he had done otherwise, I should have thought him a
  rascal.  I have some little concern in the business, as well as
  yourself, for Lucy Steele is my cousin, and I believe there is not a
  better kind of girl in the world, nor one who more deserves a good
  husband."
  
  John Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his nature was calm, not open
  to provocation, and he never wished to offend anybody, especially
  anybody of good fortune.  He therefore replied, without any resentment,
  
  "I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any relation of yours,
  madam.  Miss Lucy Steele is, I dare say, a very deserving young woman,
  but in the present case you know, the connection must be impossible.
  And to have entered into a secret engagement with a young man under her
  uncle's care, the son of a woman especially of such very large fortune
  as Mrs. Ferrars, is perhaps, altogether a little extraordinary. In
  short, I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any person whom
  you have a regard for, Mrs. Jennings.  We all wish her extremely happy;
  and Mrs. Ferrars's conduct throughout the whole, has been such as every
  conscientious, good mother, in like circumstances, would adopt.  It has
  been dignified and liberal.  Edward has drawn his own lot, and I fear
  it will be a bad one."
  
  Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension; and Elinor's heart wrung
  for the feelings of Edward, while braving his mother's threats, for a
  woman who could not reward him.
  
  "Well, sir," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did it end?"
  
  "I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy rupture:-- Edward is
  dismissed for ever from his mother's notice.  He left her house
  yesterday, but where he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do
  not know; for WE of course can make no inquiry."
  
  "Poor young man!--and what is to become of him?"
  
  "What, indeed, ma'am!  It is a melancholy consideration.  Born to the
  prospect of such affluence!  I cannot conceive a situation more
  deplorable.  The interest of two thousand pounds--how can a man live on
  it?--and when to that is added the recollection, that he might, but for
  his own folly, within three months have been in the receipt of two
  thousand, five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton has thirty thousand
  pounds,) I cannot picture to myself a more wretched condition.  We must
  all feel for him; and the more so, because it is totally out of our
  power to assist him."
  
  "Poor young man!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure he should be very
  welcome to bed and board at my house; and so I would tell him if I
  could see him.  It is not fit that he should be living about at his own
  charge now, at lodgings and taverns."
  
  Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward, though she
  could not forbear smiling at the form of it.
  
  "If he would only have done as well by himself," said John Dashwood,
  "as all his friends were disposed to do by him, he might now have been
  in his proper situation, and would have wanted for nothing.  But as it
  is, it must be out of anybody's power to assist him.  And there is one
  thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all--his
  mother has determined, with a very natural kind of spirit, to settle
  THAT estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward's, on
  proper conditions.  I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking
  over the business."
  
  "Well!" said Mrs. Jennings, "that is HER revenge.  Everybody has a way
  of their own.  But I don't think mine would be, to make one son
  independent, because another had plagued me."
  
  Marianne got up and walked about the room.
  
  "Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man," continued John,
  "than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might
  have been his own?  Poor Edward!  I feel for him sincerely."
  
  A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion, concluded his
  visit; and with repeated assurances to his sisters that he really
  believed there was no material danger in Fanny's indisposition, and
  that they need not therefore be very uneasy about it, he went away;
  leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sentiments on the present
  occasion, as far at least as it regarded Mrs. Ferrars's conduct, the
  Dashwoods', and Edward's.
  
  Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he quitted the room; and
  as her vehemence made reserve impossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in
  Mrs. Jennings, they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the
  party.
  
  
  
  
  Mrs. Jennings was very warm in her praise of Edward's conduct, but only
  Elinor and Marianne understood its true merit.  THEY only knew how
  little he had had to tempt him to be disobedient, and how small was the
  consolation, beyond the consciousness of doing right, that could remain
  to him in the loss of friends and fortune.  Elinor gloried in his
  integrity; and Marianne forgave all his offences in compassion for his
  punishment.  But though confidence between them was, by this public
  discovery, restored to its proper state, it was not a subject on which
  either of them were fond of dwelling when alone.  Elinor avoided it
  upon principle, as tending to fix still more upon her thoughts, by the
  too warm, too positive assurances of Marianne, that belief of Edward's
  continued affection for herself which she rather wished to do away; and
  Marianne's courage soon failed her, in trying to converse upon a topic
  which always left her more dissatisfied with herself than ever, by the
  comparison it necessarily produced between Elinor's conduct and her own.
  
  She felt all the force of that comparison; but not as her sister had
  hoped, to urge her to exertion now; she felt it with all the pain of
  continual self-reproach, regretted most bitterly that she had never
  exerted herself before; but it brought only the torture of penitence,
  without the hope of amendment.  Her mind was so much weakened that she
  still fancied present exertion impossible, and therefore it only
  dispirited her more.
  
  Nothing new was heard by them, for a day or two afterwards, of affairs
  in Harley Street, or Bartlett's Buildings.  But though so much of the
  matter was known to them already, that Mrs. Jennings might have had
  enough to do in spreading that knowledge farther, without seeking after
  more, she had resolved from the first to pay a visit of comfort and
  inquiry to her cousins as soon as she could; and nothing but the
  hindrance of more visitors than usual, had prevented her going to them
  within that time.
  
  The third day succeeding their knowledge of the particulars, was so
  fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens,
  though it was only the second week in March.  Mrs. Jennings and Elinor
  were of the number; but Marianne, who knew that the Willoughbys were
  again in town, and had a constant dread of meeting them, chose rather
  to stay at home, than venture into so public a place.
  
  An intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Jennings joined them soon after they
  entered the Gardens, and Elinor was not sorry that by her continuing
  with them, and engaging all Mrs. Jennings's conversation, she was
  herself left to quiet reflection.  She saw nothing of the Willoughbys,
  nothing of Edward, and for some time nothing of anybody who could by
  any chance whether grave or gay, be interesting to her.  But at last
  she found herself with some surprise, accosted by Miss Steele, who,
  though looking rather shy, expressed great satisfaction in meeting
  them, and on receiving encouragement from the particular kindness of
  Mrs. Jennings, left her own party for a short time, to join their's.
  Mrs. Jennings immediately whispered to Elinor,
  
  "Get it all out of her, my dear.  She will tell you any thing if you
  ask.  You see I cannot leave Mrs. Clarke."
  
  It was lucky, however, for Mrs. Jennings's curiosity and Elinor's too,
  that she would tell any thing WITHOUT being asked; for nothing would
  otherwise have been learnt.
  
  "I am so glad to meet you;" said Miss Steele, taking her familiarly by
  the arm--"for I wanted to see you of all things in the world."  And
  then lowering her voice, "I suppose Mrs. Jennings has heard all about
  it.  Is she angry?"
  
  "Not at all, I believe, with you."
  
  "That is a good thing.  And Lady Middleton, is SHE angry?"
  
  "I cannot suppose it possible that she should be."
  
  "I am monstrous glad of it.  Good gracious!  I have had such a time of
  it!  I never saw Lucy in such a rage in my life.  She vowed at first
  she would never trim me up a new bonnet, nor do any thing else for me
  again, so long as she lived; but now she is quite come to, and we are
  as good friends as ever.  Look, she made me this bow to my hat, and put
  in the feather last night.  There now, YOU are going to laugh at me
  too.  But why should not I wear pink ribbons?  I do not care if it IS
  the Doctor's favourite colour.  I am sure, for my part, I should never
  have known he DID like it better than any other colour, if he had not
  happened to say so.  My cousins have been so plaguing me!  I declare
  sometimes I do not know which way to look before them."
  
  She had wandered away to a subject on which Elinor had nothing to say,
  and therefore soon judged it expedient to find her way back again to
  the first.
  
  "Well, but Miss Dashwood," speaking triumphantly, "people may say what
  they chuse about Mr. Ferrars's declaring he would not have Lucy, for it
  is no such thing I can tell you; and it is quite a shame for such
  ill-natured reports to be spread abroad.  Whatever Lucy might think
  about it herself, you know, it was no business of other people to set
  it down for certain."
  
  "I never heard any thing of the kind hinted at before, I assure you,"
  said Elinor.
  
  "Oh, did not you?  But it WAS said, I know, very well, and by more than
  one; for Miss Godby told Miss Sparks, that nobody in their senses could
  expect Mr. Ferrars to give up a woman like Miss Morton, with thirty
  thousand pounds to her fortune, for Lucy Steele that had nothing at
  all; and I had it from Miss Sparks myself.  And besides that, my cousin
  Richard said himself, that when it came to the point he was afraid Mr.
  Ferrars would be off; and when Edward did not come near us for three
  days, I could not tell what to think myself; and I believe in my heart
  Lucy gave it up all for lost; for we came away from your brother's
  Wednesday, and we saw nothing of him not all Thursday, Friday, and
  Saturday, and did not know what was become of him.  Once Lucy thought
  to write to him, but then her spirits rose against that.  However this
  morning he came just as we came home from church; and then it all came
  out, how he had been sent for Wednesday to Harley Street, and been
  talked to by his mother and all of them, and how he had declared before
  them all that he loved nobody but Lucy, and nobody but Lucy would he
  have.  And how he had been so worried by what passed, that as soon as
  he had went away from his mother's house, he had got upon his horse,
  and rid into the country, some where or other; and how he had stayed
  about at an inn all Thursday and Friday, on purpose to get the better
  of it.  And after thinking it all over and over again, he said, it
  seemed to him as if, now he had no fortune, and no nothing at all, it
  would be quite unkind to keep her on to the engagement, because it must
  be for her loss, for he had nothing but two thousand pounds, and no
  hope of any thing else; and if he was to go into orders, as he had some
  thoughts, he could get nothing but a curacy, and how was they to live
  upon that?--He could not bear to think of her doing no better, and so
  he begged, if she had the least mind for it, to put an end to the
  matter directly, and leave him shift for himself.  I heard him say all
  this as plain as could possibly be.  And it was entirely for HER sake,
  and upon HER account, that he said a word about being off, and not upon
  his own.  I will take my oath he never dropt a syllable of being tired
  of her, or of wishing to marry Miss Morton, or any thing like it.  But,
  to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking; so she
  told him directly (with a great deal about sweet and love, you know,
  and all that--Oh, la! one can't repeat such kind of things you
  know)--she told him directly, she had not the least mind in the world
  to be off, for she could live with him upon a trifle, and how little so
  ever he might have, she should be very glad to have it all, you know,
  or something of the kind.  So then he was monstrous happy, and talked
  on some time about what they should do, and they agreed he should take
  orders directly, and they must wait to be married till he got a living.
  And just then I could not hear any more, for my cousin called from
  below to tell me Mrs. Richardson was come in her coach, and would take
  one of us to Kensington Gardens; so I was forced to go into the room
  and interrupt them, to ask Lucy if she would like to go, but she did
  not care to leave Edward; so I just run up stairs and put on a pair of
  silk stockings and came off with the Richardsons."
  
  "I do not understand what you mean by interrupting them," said Elinor;
  "you were all in the same room together, were not you?"
  
  "No, indeed, not us.  La! Miss Dashwood, do you think people make love
  when any body else is by?  Oh, for shame!--To be sure you must know
  better than that.  (Laughing affectedly.)--No, no; they were shut up in
  the drawing-room together, and all I heard was only by listening at the
  door."
  
  "How!" cried Elinor; "have you been repeating to me what you only
  learnt yourself by listening at the door?  I am sorry I did not know it
  before; for I certainly would not have suffered you to give me
  particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known
  yourself.  How could you behave so unfairly by your sister?"
  
  "Oh, la! there is nothing in THAT.  I only stood at the door, and heard
  what I could.  And I am sure Lucy would have done just the same by me;
  for a year or two back, when Martha Sharpe and I had so many secrets
  together, she never made any bones of hiding in a closet, or behind a
  chimney-board, on purpose to hear what we said."
  
  Elinor tried to talk of something else; but Miss Steele could not be
  kept beyond a couple of minutes, from what was uppermost in her mind.
  
  "Edward talks of going to Oxford soon," said she; "but now he is
  lodging at No. --, Pall Mall.  What an ill-natured woman his mother is,
  an't she? And your brother and sister were not very kind! However, I
  shan't say anything against them to YOU; and to be sure they did send
  us home in their own chariot, which was more than I looked for.  And
  for my part, I was all in a fright for fear your sister should ask us
  for the huswifes she had gave us a day or two before; but, however,
  nothing was said about them, and I took care to keep mine out of sight.
  Edward have got some business at Oxford, he says; so he must go there
  for a time; and after THAT, as soon as he can light upon a Bishop, he
  will be ordained.  I wonder what curacy he will get!--Good gracious!
  (giggling as she spoke) I'd lay my life I know what my cousins will
  say, when they hear of it.  They will tell me I should write to the
  Doctor, to get Edward the curacy of his new living.  I know they will;
  but I am sure I would not do such a thing for all the world.-- 'La!' I
  shall say directly, 'I wonder how you could think of such a thing?  I
  write to the Doctor, indeed!'"
  
  "Well," said Elinor, "it is a comfort to be prepared against the worst.
  You have got your answer ready."
  
  Miss Steele was going to reply on the same subject, but the approach of
  her own party made another more necessary.
  
  "Oh, la! here come the Richardsons.  I had a vast deal more to say to
  you, but I must not stay away from them not any longer.  I assure you
  they are very genteel people.  He makes a monstrous deal of money, and
  they keep their own coach.  I have not time to speak to Mrs. Jennings
  about it myself, but pray tell her I am quite happy to hear she is not
  in anger against us, and Lady Middleton the same; and if anything
  should happen to take you and your sister away, and Mrs. Jennings
  should want company, I am sure we should be very glad to come and stay
  with her for as long a time as she likes.  I suppose Lady Middleton
  won't ask us any more this bout.  Good-by; I am sorry Miss Marianne was
  not here.  Remember me kindly to her.  La! if you have not got your
  spotted muslin on!--I wonder you was not afraid of its being torn."
  
  Such was her parting concern; for after this, she had time only to pay
  her farewell compliments to Mrs. Jennings, before her company was
  claimed by Mrs. Richardson; and Elinor was left in possession of
  knowledge which might feed her powers of reflection some time, though
  she had learnt very little more than what had been already foreseen and
  foreplanned in her own mind.  Edward's marriage with Lucy was as firmly
  determined on, and the time of its taking place remained as absolutely
  uncertain, as she had concluded it would be;--every thing depended,
  exactly after her expectation, on his getting that preferment, of
  which, at present, there seemed not the smallest chance.
  
  As soon as they returned to the carriage, Mrs. Jennings was eager for
  information; but as Elinor wished to spread as little as possible
  intelligence that had in the first place been so unfairly obtained, she
  confined herself to the brief repetition of such simple particulars, as
  she felt assured that Lucy, for the sake of her own consequence, would
  choose to have known.  The continuance of their engagement, and the
  means that were able to be taken for promoting its end, was all her
  communication; and this produced from Mrs. Jennings the following
  natural remark.
  
  "Wait for his having a living!--ay, we all know how THAT will
  end:--they will wait a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it,
  will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a-year, with the interest
  of his two thousand pounds, and what little matter Mr. Steele and Mr.
  Pratt can give her.--Then they will have a child every year! and Lord
  help 'em! how poor they will be!--I must see what I can give them
  towards furnishing their house.  Two maids and two men, indeed!--as I
  talked of t'other day.--No, no, they must get a stout girl of all
  works.-- Betty's sister would never do for them NOW."
  
  The next morning brought Elinor a letter by the two-penny post from
  Lucy herself.  It was as follows:
  
                      "Bartlett's Building, March.
  
       "I hope my dear Miss Dashwood will excuse the
       liberty I take of writing to her; but I know your
       friendship for me will make you pleased to hear such
       a good account of myself and my dear Edward, after
       all the troubles we have went through lately,
       therefore will make no more apologies, but proceed
       to say that, thank God! though we have suffered
       dreadfully, we are both quite well now, and as happy
       as we must always be in one another's love.  We have
       had great trials, and great persecutions, but
       however, at the same time, gratefully acknowledge
       many friends, yourself not the least among them,
       whose great kindness I shall always thankfully
       remember, as will Edward too, who I have told of
       it.  I am sure you will be glad to hear, as likewise
       dear Mrs. Jennings, I spent two happy hours with
       him yesterday afternoon, he would not hear of our
       parting, though earnestly did I, as I thought my
       duty required, urge him to it for prudence sake,
       and would have parted for ever on the spot, would
       he consent to it; but he said it should never be,
       he did not regard his mother's anger, while he could
       have my affections; our prospects are not very
       bright, to be sure, but we must wait, and hope for
       the best; he will be ordained shortly; and should
       it ever be in your power to recommend him to any
       body that has a living to bestow, am very sure you
       will not forget us, and dear Mrs. Jennings too,
       trust she will speak a good word for us to Sir John,
       or Mr. Palmer, or any friend that may be able to
       assist us.--Poor Anne was much to blame for what
       she did, but she did it for the best, so I say
       nothing; hope Mrs. Jennings won't think it too much
       trouble to give us a call, should she come this way
       any morning, 'twould be a great kindness, and my
       cousins would be proud to know her.--My paper reminds
       me to conclude; and begging to be most gratefully
       and respectfully remembered to her, and to Sir John,
       and Lady Middleton, and the dear children, when you
       chance to see them, and love to Miss Marianne,
  
                                        "I am, &c."
  
  As soon as Elinor had finished it, she performed what she concluded to
  be its writer's real design, by placing it in the hands of Mrs.
  Jennings, who read it aloud with many comments of satisfaction and
  praise.
  
  "Very well indeed!--how prettily she writes!--aye, that was quite
  proper to let him be off if he would.  That was just like Lucy.--Poor
  soul! I wish I COULD get him a living, with all my heart.--She calls me
  dear Mrs. Jennings, you see.  She is a good-hearted girl as ever
  lived.--Very well upon my word.  That sentence is very prettily turned.
  Yes, yes, I will go and see her, sure enough.  How attentive she is, to
  think of every body!--Thank you, my dear, for shewing it me.  It is as
  pretty a letter as ever I saw, and does Lucy's head and heart great
  credit."
  
  
  
  
  The Miss Dashwoods had now been rather more than two months in town,
  and Marianne's impatience to be gone increased every day.  She sighed
  for the air, the liberty, the quiet of the country; and fancied that if
  any place could give her ease, Barton must do it.  Elinor was hardly
  less anxious than herself for their removal, and only so much less bent
  on its being effected immediately, as that she was conscious of the
  difficulties of so long a journey, which Marianne could not be brought
  to acknowledge.  She began, however, seriously to turn her thoughts
  towards its accomplishment, and had already mentioned their wishes to
  their kind hostess, who resisted them with all the eloquence of her
  good-will, when a plan was suggested, which, though detaining them from
  home yet a few weeks longer, appeared to Elinor altogether much more
  eligible than any other. The Palmers were to remove to Cleveland about
  the end of March, for the Easter holidays; and Mrs. Jennings, with both
  her friends, received a very warm invitation from Charlotte to go with
  them.  This would not, in itself, have been sufficient for the delicacy
  of Miss Dashwood;--but it was inforced with so much real politeness by
  Mr. Palmer himself, as, joined to the very great amendment of his
  manners towards them since her sister had been known to be unhappy,
  induced her to accept it with pleasure.
  
  When she told Marianne what she had done, however, her first reply was
  not very auspicious.
  
  "Cleveland!"--she cried, with great agitation.  "No, I cannot go to
  Cleveland."--
  
  "You forget," said Elinor gently, "that its situation is not...that it
  is not in the neighbourhood of..."
  
  "But it is in Somersetshire.--I cannot go into Somersetshire.--There,
  where I looked forward to going...No, Elinor, you cannot expect me to
  go there."
  
  Elinor would not argue upon the propriety of overcoming such
  feelings;--she only endeavoured to counteract them by working on
  others;--represented it, therefore, as a measure which would fix the
  time of her returning to that dear mother, whom she so much wished to
  see, in a more eligible, more comfortable manner, than any other plan
  could do, and perhaps without any greater delay.  From Cleveland, which
  was within a few miles of Bristol, the distance to Barton was not
  beyond one day, though a long day's journey; and their mother's servant
  might easily come there to attend them down; and as there could be no
  occasion of their staying above a week at Cleveland, they might now be
  at home in little more than three weeks' time.  As Marianne's affection
  for her mother was sincere, it must triumph with little difficulty,
  over the imaginary evils she had started.
  
  Mrs. Jennings was so far from being weary of her guests, that she
  pressed them very earnestly to return with her again from Cleveland.
  Elinor was grateful for the attention, but it could not alter her
  design; and their mother's concurrence being readily gained, every
  thing relative to their return was arranged as far as it could be;--and
  Marianne found some relief in drawing up a statement of the hours that
  were yet to divide her from Barton.
  
  "Ah! Colonel, I do not know what you and I shall do without the Miss
  Dashwoods;"--was Mrs. Jennings's address to him when he first called on
  her, after their leaving her was settled--"for they are quite resolved
  upon going home from the Palmers;--and how forlorn we shall be, when I
  come back!--Lord! we shall sit and gape at one another as dull as two
  cats."
  
  Perhaps Mrs. Jennings was in hopes, by this vigorous sketch of their
  future ennui, to provoke him to make that offer, which might give
  himself an escape from it;--and if so, she had soon afterwards good
  reason to think her object gained; for, on Elinor's moving to the
  window to take more expeditiously the dimensions of a print, which she
  was going to copy for her friend, he followed her to it with a look of
  particular meaning, and conversed with her there for several minutes.
  The effect of his discourse on the lady too, could not escape her
  observation, for though she was too honorable to listen, and had even
  changed her seat, on purpose that she might NOT hear, to one close by
  the piano forte on which Marianne was playing, she could not keep
  herself from seeing that Elinor changed colour, attended with
  agitation, and was too intent on what he said to pursue her
  employment.-- Still farther in confirmation of her hopes, in the
  interval of Marianne's turning from one lesson to another, some words
  of the Colonel's inevitably reached her ear, in which he seemed to be
  apologising for the badness of his house.  This set the matter beyond a
  doubt.  She wondered, indeed, at his thinking it necessary to do so;
  but supposed it to be the proper etiquette.  What Elinor said in reply
  she could not distinguish, but judged from the motion of her lips, that
  she did not think THAT any material objection;--and Mrs. Jennings
  commended her in her heart for being so honest.  They then talked on
  for a few minutes longer without her catching a syllable, when another
  lucky stop in Marianne's performance brought her these words in the
  Colonel's calm voice,--
  
  "I am afraid it cannot take place very soon."
  
  Astonished and shocked at so unlover-like a speech, she was almost
  ready to cry out, "Lord! what should hinder it?"--but checking her
  desire, confined herself to this silent ejaculation.
  
  "This is very strange!--sure he need not wait to be older."
  
  This delay on the Colonel's side, however, did not seem to offend or
  mortify his fair companion in the least, for on their breaking up the
  conference soon afterwards, and moving different ways, Mrs. Jennings
  very plainly heard Elinor say, and with a voice which shewed her to
  feel what she said,
  
  "I shall always think myself very much obliged to you."
  
  Mrs. Jennings was delighted with her gratitude, and only wondered that
  after hearing such a sentence, the Colonel should be able to take leave
  of them, as he immediately did, with the utmost sang-froid, and go away
  without making her any reply!--She had not thought her old friend could
  have made so indifferent a suitor.
  
  What had really passed between them was to this effect.
  
  "I have heard," said he, with great compassion, "of the injustice your
  friend Mr. Ferrars has suffered from his family; for if I understand
  the matter right, he has been entirely cast off by them for persevering
  in his engagement with a very deserving young woman.-- Have I been
  rightly informed?--Is it so?--"
  
  Elinor told him that it was.
  
  "The cruelty, the impolitic cruelty,"--he replied, with great
  feeling,--"of dividing, or attempting to divide, two young people long
  attached to each other, is terrible.-- Mrs. Ferrars does not know what
  she may be doing--what she may drive her son to.  I have seen Mr.
  Ferrars two or three times in Harley Street, and am much pleased with
  him.  He is not a young man with whom one can be intimately acquainted
  in a short time, but I have seen enough of him to wish him well for his
  own sake, and as a friend of yours, I wish it still more.  I understand
  that he intends to take orders.  Will you be so good as to tell him
  that the living of Delaford, now just vacant, as I am informed by this
  day's post, is his, if he think it worth his acceptance--but THAT,
  perhaps, so unfortunately circumstanced as he is now, it may be
  nonsense to appear to doubt; I only wish it were more  valuable.-- It
  is a rectory, but a small one; the late incumbent, I believe, did not
  make more than 200 L per annum, and though it is certainly capable of
  improvement, I fear, not to such an amount as to afford him a very
  comfortable income.  Such as it is, however, my pleasure in presenting
  it to him, will be very great.  Pray assure him of it."
  
  Elinor's astonishment at this commission could hardly have been
  greater, had the Colonel been really making her an offer of his hand.
  The preferment, which only two days before she had considered as
  hopeless for Edward, was already provided to enable him to marry;--and
  SHE, of all people in the world, was fixed on to bestow it!--Her
  emotion was such as Mrs. Jennings had attributed to a very different
  cause;--but whatever minor feelings less pure, less pleasing, might
  have a share in that emotion, her esteem for the general benevolence,
  and her gratitude for the particular friendship, which together
  prompted Colonel Brandon to this act, were strongly felt, and warmly
  expressed.  She thanked him for it with all her heart, spoke of
  Edward's principles and disposition with that praise which she knew
  them to deserve; and promised to undertake the commission with
  pleasure, if it were really his wish to put off so agreeable an office
  to another.  But at the same time, she could not help thinking that no
  one could so well perform it as himself.  It was an office in short,
  from which, unwilling to give Edward the pain of receiving an
  obligation from HER, she would have been very glad to be spared
  herself;-- but Colonel Brandon, on motives of equal delicacy, declining
  it likewise, still seemed so desirous of its being given through her
  means, that she would not on any account make farther opposition.
  Edward, she believed, was still in town, and fortunately she had heard
  his address from Miss Steele.  She could undertake therefore to inform
  him of it, in the course of the day.  After this had been settled,
  Colonel Brandon began to talk of his own advantage in securing so
  respectable and agreeable a neighbour, and THEN it was that he
  mentioned with regret, that the house was small and indifferent;--an
  evil which Elinor, as Mrs. Jennings had supposed her to do, made very
  light of, at least as far as regarded its size.
  
  "The smallness of the house," said she, "I cannot imagine any
  inconvenience to them, for it will be in proportion to their family and
  income."
  
  By which the Colonel was surprised to find that SHE was considering Mr.
  Ferrars's marriage as the certain consequence of the presentation; for
  he did not suppose it possible that Delaford living could supply such
  an income, as anybody in his style of life would venture to settle
  on--and he said so.
  
  "This little rectory CAN do no more than make Mr. Ferrars comfortable
  as a bachelor; it cannot enable him to marry.  I am sorry to say that
  my patronage ends with this; and my interest is hardly more extensive.
  If, however, by an unforeseen chance it should be in my power to serve
  him farther, I must think very differently of him from what I now do,
  if I am not as ready to be useful to him then as I sincerely wish I
  could be at present.  What I am now doing indeed, seems nothing at all,
  since it can advance him so little towards what must be his principal,
  his only object of happiness.  His marriage must still be a distant
  good;--at least, I am afraid it cannot take place very soon.--"
  
  Such was the sentence which, when misunderstood, so justly offended the
  delicate feelings of Mrs. Jennings; but after this narration of what
  really passed between Colonel Brandon and Elinor, while they stood at
  the window, the gratitude expressed by the latter on their parting, may
  perhaps appear in general, not less reasonably excited, nor less
  properly worded than if it had arisen from an offer of marriage.
  
  
  
  
  "Well, Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Jennings, sagaciously smiling, as soon
  as the gentleman had withdrawn, "I do not ask you what the Colonel has
  been saying to you; for though, upon my honour, I TRIED to keep out of
  hearing, I could not help catching enough to understand his business.
  And I assure you I never was better pleased in my life, and I wish you
  joy of it with all my heart."
  
  "Thank you, ma'am," said Elinor.  "It is a matter of great joy to me;
  and I feel the goodness of Colonel Brandon most sensibly.  There are
  not many men who would act as he has done.  Few people who have so
  compassionate a heart!  I never was more astonished in my life."
  
  "Lord! my dear, you are very modest.  I an't the least astonished at it
  in the world, for I have often thought of late, there was nothing more
  likely to happen."
  
  "You judged from your knowledge of the Colonel's general benevolence;
  but at least you could not foresee that the opportunity would so very
  soon occur."
  
  "Opportunity!" repeated Mrs. Jennings--"Oh! as to that, when a man has
  once made up his mind to such a thing, somehow or other he will soon
  find an opportunity.  Well, my dear, I wish you joy of it again and
  again; and if ever there was a happy couple in the world, I think I
  shall soon know where to look for them."
  
  "You mean to go to Delaford after them I suppose," said Elinor, with a
  faint smile.
  
  "Aye, my dear, that I do, indeed.  And as to the house being a bad one,
  I do not know what the Colonel would be at, for it is as good a one as
  ever I saw."
  
  "He spoke of its being out of repair."
  
  "Well, and whose fault is that? why don't he repair it?--who should do
  it but himself?"
  
  They were interrupted by the servant's coming in to announce the
  carriage being at the door; and Mrs. Jennings immediately preparing to
  go, said,--
  
  "Well, my dear, I must be gone before I have had half my talk out.
  But, however, we may have it all over in the evening; for we shall be
  quite alone.  I do not ask you to go with me, for I dare say your mind
  is too full of the matter to care for company; and besides, you must
  long to tell your sister all about it."
  
  Marianne had left the room before the conversation began.
  
  "Certainly, ma'am, I shall tell Marianne of it; but I shall not mention
  it at present to any body else."
  
  "Oh! very well," said Mrs. Jennings rather disappointed.  "Then you
  would not have me tell it to Lucy, for I think of going as far as
  Holborn to-day."
  
  "No, ma'am, not even Lucy if you please.  One day's delay will not be
  very material; and till I have written to Mr. Ferrars, I think it ought
  not to be mentioned to any body else.  I shall do THAT directly.  It is
  of importance that no time should be lost with him, for he will of
  course have much to do relative to his ordination."
  
  This speech at first puzzled Mrs. Jennings exceedingly.  Why Mr.
  Ferrars was to have been written to about it in such a hurry, she could
  not immediately comprehend.  A few moments' reflection, however,
  produced a very happy idea, and she exclaimed;--
  
  "Oh, ho!--I understand you.  Mr. Ferrars is to be the man.  Well, so
  much the better for him.  Ay, to be sure, he must be ordained in
  readiness; and I am very glad to find things are so forward between
  you.  But, my dear, is not this rather out of character?  Should not
  the Colonel write himself?--sure, he is the proper person."
  
  Elinor did not quite understand the beginning of Mrs. Jennings's
  speech, neither did she think it worth inquiring into; and therefore
  only replied to its conclusion.
  
  "Colonel Brandon is so delicate a man, that he rather wished any one to
  announce his intentions to Mr. Ferrars than himself."
  
  "And so YOU are forced to do it.  Well THAT is an odd kind of delicacy!
  However, I will not disturb you (seeing her preparing to write.)  You
  know your own concerns best.  So goodby, my dear.  I have not heard of
  any thing to please me so well since Charlotte was brought to bed."
  
  And away she went; but returning again in a moment,
  
  "I have just been thinking of Betty's sister, my dear.  I should be
  very glad to get her so good a mistress.  But whether she would do for
  a lady's maid, I am sure I can't tell.  She is an excellent housemaid,
  and works very well at her needle.  However, you will think of all that
  at your leisure."
  
  "Certainly, ma'am," replied Elinor, not hearing much of what she said,
  and more anxious to be alone, than to be mistress of the subject.
  
  How she should begin--how she should express herself in her note to
  Edward, was now all her concern.  The particular circumstances between
  them made a difficulty of that which to any other person would have
  been the easiest thing in the world; but she equally feared to say too
  much or too little, and sat deliberating over her paper, with the pen
  in her hand, till broken in on by the entrance of Edward himself.
  
  He had met Mrs. Jennings at the door in her way to the carriage, as he
  came to leave his farewell card; and she, after apologising for not
  returning herself, had obliged him to enter, by saying that Miss
  Dashwood was above, and wanted to speak with him on very particular
  business.
  
  Elinor had just been congratulating herself, in the midst of her
  perplexity, that however difficult it might be to express herself
  properly by letter, it was at least preferable to giving the
  information by word of mouth, when her visitor entered, to force her
  upon this greatest exertion of all.  Her astonishment and confusion
  were very great on his so sudden appearance.  She had not seen him
  before since his engagement became public, and therefore not since his
  knowing her to be acquainted with it; which, with the consciousness of
  what she had been thinking of, and what she had to tell him, made her
  feel particularly uncomfortable for some minutes.  He too was much
  distressed; and they sat down together in a most promising state of
  embarrassment.--Whether he had asked her pardon for his intrusion on
  first coming into the room, he could not recollect; but determining to
  be on the safe side, he made his apology in form as soon as he could
  say any thing, after taking a chair.
  
  "Mrs. Jennings told me," said he, "that you wished to speak with me, at
  least I understood her so--or I certainly should not have intruded on
  you in such a manner; though at the same time, I should have been
  extremely sorry to leave London without seeing you and your sister;
  especially as it will most likely be some time--it is not probable that
  I should soon have the pleasure of meeting you again.  I go to Oxford
  tomorrow."
  
  "You would not have gone, however," said Elinor, recovering herself,
  and determined to get over what she so much dreaded as soon as
  possible, "without receiving our good wishes, even if we had not been
  able to give them in person.  Mrs. Jennings was quite right in what she
  said.  I have something of consequence to inform you of, which I was on
  the point of communicating by paper.  I am charged with a most
  agreeable office (breathing rather faster than usual as she spoke.)
  Colonel Brandon, who was here only ten minutes ago, has desired me to
  say, that understanding you mean to take orders, he has great pleasure
  in offering you the living of Delaford now just vacant, and only wishes
  it were more valuable.  Allow me to congratulate you on having so
  respectable and well-judging a friend, and to join in his wish that the
  living--it is about two hundred a-year--were much more considerable,
  and such as might better enable you to--as might be more than a
  temporary accommodation to yourself--such, in short, as might establish
  all your views of happiness."
  
  What Edward felt, as he could not say it himself, it cannot be expected
  that any one else should say for him.  He LOOKED all the astonishment
  which such unexpected, such unthought-of information could not fail of
  exciting; but he said only these two words,
  
  "Colonel Brandon!"
  
  "Yes," continued Elinor, gathering more resolution, as some of the
  worst was over, "Colonel Brandon means it as a testimony of his concern
  for what has lately passed--for the cruel situation in which the
  unjustifiable conduct of your family has placed you--a concern which I
  am sure Marianne, myself, and all your friends, must share; and
  likewise as a proof of his high esteem for your general character, and
  his particular approbation of your behaviour on the present occasion."
  
  "Colonel Brandon give ME a living!--Can it be possible?"
  
  "The unkindness of your own relations has made you astonished to find
  friendship any where."
  
  "No," replied he, with sudden consciousness, "not to find it in YOU;
  for I cannot be ignorant that to you, to your goodness, I owe it
  all.--I feel it--I would express it if I could--but, as you well know,
  I am no orator."
  
  "You are very much mistaken.  I do assure you that you owe it entirely,
  at least almost entirely, to your own merit, and Colonel Brandon's
  discernment of it.  I have had no hand in it.  I did not even know,
  till I understood his design, that the living was vacant; nor had it
  ever occurred to me that he might have had such a living in his gift.
  As a friend of mine, of my family, he may, perhaps--indeed I know he
  HAS, still greater pleasure in bestowing it; but, upon my word, you owe
  nothing to my solicitation."
  
  Truth obliged her to acknowledge some small share in the action, but
  she was at the same time so unwilling to appear as the benefactress of
  Edward, that she acknowledged it with hesitation; which probably
  contributed to fix that suspicion in his mind which had recently
  entered it.  For a short time he sat deep in thought, after Elinor had
  ceased to speak;--at last, and as if it were rather an effort, he said,
  
  "Colonel Brandon seems a man of great worth and respectability.  I have
  always heard him spoken of as such, and your brother I know esteems him
  highly.  He is undoubtedly a sensible man, and in his manners perfectly
  the gentleman."
  
  "Indeed," replied Elinor, "I believe that you will find him, on farther
  acquaintance, all that you have heard him to be, and as you will be
  such very near neighbours (for I understand the parsonage is almost
  close to the mansion-house,) it is particularly important that he
  SHOULD be all this."
  
  Edward made no answer; but when she had turned away her head, gave her
  a look so serious, so earnest, so uncheerful, as seemed to say, that he
  might hereafter wish the distance between the parsonage and the
  mansion-house much greater.
  
  "Colonel Brandon, I think, lodges in St. James Street," said he, soon
  afterwards, rising from his chair.
  
  Elinor told him the number of the house.
  
  "I must hurry away then, to give him those thanks which you will not
  allow me to give YOU; to assure him that he has made me a very--an
  exceedingly happy man."
  
  Elinor did not offer to detain him; and they parted, with a very
  earnest assurance on HER side of her unceasing good wishes for his
  happiness in every change of situation that might befall him; on HIS,
  with rather an attempt to return the same good will, than the power of
  expressing it.
  
  "When I see him again," said Elinor to herself, as the door shut him
  out, "I shall see him the husband of Lucy."
  
  And with this pleasing anticipation, she sat down to reconsider the
  past, recall the words and endeavour to comprehend all the feelings of
  Edward; and, of course, to reflect on her own with discontent.
  
  When Mrs. Jennings came home, though she returned from seeing people
  whom she had never seen before, and of whom therefore she must have a
  great deal to say, her mind was so much more occupied by the important
  secret in her possession, than by anything else, that she reverted to
  it again as soon as Elinor appeared.
  
  "Well, my dear," she cried, "I sent you up the young man.  Did not I
  do right?--And I suppose you had no great difficulty--You did not find
  him very unwilling to accept your proposal?"
  
  "No, ma'am; THAT was not very likely."
  
  "Well, and how soon will he be ready?--For it seems all to depend upon
  that."
  
  "Really," said Elinor, "I know so little of these kind of forms, that I
  can hardly even conjecture as to the time, or the preparation
  necessary; but I suppose two or three months will complete his
  ordination."
  
  "Two or three months!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "Lord! my dear, how calmly
  you talk of it; and can the Colonel wait two or three months! Lord
  bless me!--I am sure it would put ME quite out of patience!--And though
  one would be very glad to do a kindness by poor Mr. Ferrars, I do think
  it is not worth while to wait two or three months for him.  Sure
  somebody else might be found that would do as well; somebody that is in
  orders already."
  
  "My dear ma'am," said Elinor, "what can you be thinking of?-- Why,
  Colonel Brandon's only object is to be of use to Mr. Ferrars."
  
  "Lord bless you, my dear!--Sure you do not mean to persuade me that the
  Colonel only marries you for the sake of giving ten guineas to Mr.
  Ferrars!"
  
  The deception could not continue after this; and an explanation
  immediately took place, by which both gained considerable amusement for
  the moment, without any material loss of happiness to either, for Mrs.
  Jennings only exchanged one form of delight for another, and still
  without forfeiting her expectation of the first.
  
  "Aye, aye, the parsonage is but a small one," said she, after the first
  ebullition of surprise and satisfaction was over, "and very likely MAY
  be out of repair; but to hear a man apologising, as I thought, for a
  house that to my knowledge has five sitting rooms on the ground-floor,
  and I think the housekeeper told me could make up fifteen beds!--and to
  you too, that had been used to live in Barton cottage!-- It seems quite
  ridiculous.  But, my dear, we must touch up the Colonel to do some
  thing to the parsonage, and make it comfortable for them, before Lucy
  goes to it."
  
  "But Colonel Brandon does not seem to have any idea of the living's
  being enough to allow them to marry."
  
  "The Colonel is a ninny, my dear; because he has two thousand a-year
  himself, he thinks that nobody else can marry on less.  Take my word
  for it, that, if I am alive, I shall be paying a visit at Delaford
  Parsonage before Michaelmas; and I am sure I shan't go if Lucy an't
  there."
  
  Elinor was quite of her opinion, as to the probability of their not
  waiting for any thing more.
  
  
  
  
  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 Fanny would be very glad to see
  her, invited her to come in.
  
  They walked up stairs in to the drawing-room.--Nobody was there.
  
  "Fanny 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 Fanny, 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 Fanny 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 Morton."
  
  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 Fanny 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.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapters 37-41
target: Mrs. Jennings returns home from a visit to Mrs. Palmer with the shocking news that Lucy Steele and Edward Ferrars have been engaged to one another for over a year. Elinor, upon hearing that their engagement has at last become public, shares the news with her sister. Marianne cannot believe that Elinor has known of Edward's secret engagement for four months, for her sister has remained calm and composed throughout the entire period. John Dashwood visits his sisters at Mrs. Jennings's home and informs them that Fanny is in hysterics on account of the news. He also relates that Mrs. Ferrars has insisted that Edward must extricate himself from the attachment, or she will disown and disinherit him. The following Sunday, during a visit with Mrs. Jennings to Kensington Gardens, Elinor learns from Miss Anne Steele that Edward has refused to break off his engagement with Lucy. His mother has therefore transferred her estate to Edward's younger brother, Robert. As Miss Steele relates, Edward has informed Lucy that without his mother's inheritance, he will have to obtain a curacy and live modestly, but Lucy has proclaimed her devotion to him regardless of his economic situation. This information is confirmed in a letter from Lucy expressing to Elinor her commitment to Edward. Elinor and Marianne, anxious to leave London and return home, arrange to depart with the Palmers and visit them in Cleveland before heading back to Barton. Before they leave, Colonel Brandon visits Elinor and tells her that he has decided to offer his living at the Delaford rectory to Edward as a means of supporting himself. The Colonel asks Elinor to inform Edward of his offer, and Elinor finds herself in the rather uncomfortable position of facilitating the marriage of the man she loves to another woman. She begins writing a letter to Edward when Mrs. Jennings suddenly welcomes him into her home and she is afforded the opportunity to speak with him directly. Edward is astonished and deeply moved by the Colonel's generosity. Elinor goes off to visit Fanny Dashwood, who has not been feeling well since the news of Edward and Lucy's engagement. She is greeted at the door by John Dashwood, who shares the news that Robert Ferrars will inherit his mother's estate in place of his brother. Just then, Robert Ferrars arrives and expresses his pity for his older brother. John leaves them to inform his wife of Elinor's presence, and Fanny Dashwood, upon receiving Elinor, expresses her regret that the Dashwood sisters will be leaving town so soon.
feat_summary_analysis: Commentary When Miss Steele accidentally lets slip the secret of her sister's engagement to Edward Ferrars, their relationship becomes no longer an "attachment" but a "connection." An attachment is an emotional association between two people; to form an attachment is to fall in love. In contrast, a connection is the public bond involving a range of associations between individuals and their families. When Lucy and Edward were attached to one another, they were simply secretly in love with one another; once Miss Steele makes their engagement public, their families become heavily involved in an ever-widening circle of legal and economic implications. For example, Mrs. Ferrars announces that she will disinherit her son if he marries Lucy instead of the wealthy heiress Miss Morton, and Colonel Brandon offers Edward a living to support his wife. Thus, when the attachment becomes a connection, the number of individuals involved in the relationship increases considerably. Connections link family members to one another in concern for their mutual welfare. These bonds are so strong that it is unusual to find people behaving warmly and generously toward those they are not related to. Thus, John Dashwood cannot understand why Colonel Brandon offers Edward a living  Brandon, we know, is acting solely on the basis of voluntary fellow-feeling. He empathizes with Edward because he, too, has known the pain of love accompanied by tremendous emotional distress. Furthermore, he respects Edward because he knows that Edward has Elinor's admiration. Therefore, he offers Edward a means of supporting a wife in spite of his disinheritance. But for John Dashwood, only family ties could provide the grounds for such a kind and generous gesture.