CHAPTER XXII

Marianne, who had never much toleration for any thing like

impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts, or even difference of

taste from herself, was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from

the state of her spirits, to be pleased with the Miss Steeles, or to

encourage their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her

behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour at intimacy on

their side, Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself

which soon became evident in the manners of both, but especially of

Lucy, who missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation, or of

striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank

communication of her sentiments.

Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often just and amusing;

and as a companion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her

agreeable; but her powers had received no aid from education: she was

ignorant and illiterate; and her deficiency of all mental improvement,

her want of information in the most common particulars, could not be

concealed from Miss Dashwood, in spite of her constant endeavour to

appear to advantage. Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of

abilities which education might have rendered so respectable; but she

saw, with less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy,

of rectitude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, her

assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have

no lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined

insincerity with ignorance; whose want of instruction prevented their

meeting in conversation on terms of equality, and whose conduct toward

others made every show of attention and deference towards herself

perfectly valueless.

"You will think my question an odd one, I dare say," said Lucy to her

one day, as they were walking together from the park to the

cottage--"but pray, are you personally acquainted with your

sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?"

Elinor _did_ think the question a very odd one, and her countenance

expressed it, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars.

"Indeed!" replied Lucy; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have

seen her at Norland sometimes. Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me what

sort of a woman she is?"

"No," returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's

mother, and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent

curiosity; "I know nothing of her."

"I am sure you think me very strange, for enquiring about her in such

a way," said Lucy, eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke; "but

perhaps there may be reasons--I wish I might venture; but however I

hope you will do me the justice of believing that I do not mean to be

impertinent."

Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on for a few minutes in

silence. It was broken by Lucy, who renewed the subject again by

saying, with some hesitation--

"I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious. I am sure I

would rather do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person

whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours. And I am sure I

should not have the smallest fear of trusting _you_; indeed, I should

be very glad of your advice how to manage in such and uncomfortable

situation as I am; but, however, there is no occasion to trouble

_you._ I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars."

"I am sorry I do _not_," said Elinor, in great astonishment, "if it

could be of any use to _you_ to know my opinion of her. But really I

never understood that you were at all connected with that family, and

therefore I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry

into her character."

"I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it. But

if I dared tell you all, you would not be so much surprised. Mrs.

Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present--but the time _may_

come--how soon it will come must depend upon herself--when we may be

very intimately connected."

She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful, with only one side

glance at her companion to observe its effect on her.

"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "what do you mean? Are you acquainted

with Mr. Robert Ferrars? Can you be?" And she did not feel much

delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law.

"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. _Robert_ Ferrars--I never saw him in

my life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."

What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as

painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the

assertion attended it. She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement,

unable to divine the reason or object of such a declaration; and

though her complexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and felt

in no danger of an hysterical fit, or a swoon.

"You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; "for to be sure you could

have had no idea of it before; for I dare say he never dropped the

smallest hint of it to you or any of your family; because it was

always meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully

kept so by me to this hour. Not a soul of all my relations know of it

but Anne, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not

felt the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I

really thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs.

Ferrars must seem so odd, that it ought to be explained. And I do not

think Mr. Ferrars can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted

you, because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all

your family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods

quite as his own sisters."--She paused.

[Illustration: _Amiably bashful._]

Elinor for a few moments remained silent. Her astonishment at what she

heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself

to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner,

which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude--"May I ask

if your engagement is of long standing?"

"We have been engaged these four years."

"Four years!"

"Yes."

Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it.

"I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the

other day."

"Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date. He was under my

uncle's care, you know, a considerable while."

"Your uncle!"

"Yes; Mr. Pratt. Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?"

"I think I have," replied Elinor, with an exertion of spirits, which

increased with her increase of emotion.

"He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near

Plymouth. It was there our acquaintance begun, for my sister and me

was often staying with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was

formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil; but he

was almost always with us afterwards. I was very unwilling to enter

into it, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of

his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so

prudent as I ought to have been. Though you do not know him so well as

me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible he

is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."

"Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said; but after

a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Edward's

honour and love, and her companion's falsehood--"Engaged to Mr. Edward

Ferrars!--I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me,

that really--I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some mistake

of person or name. We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars."

"We can mean no other," cried Lucy, smiling. "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the

eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars, of Park Street, and brother of your

sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; you must

allow that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on

who all my happiness depends."

"It is strange," replied Elinor, in a most painful perplexity, "that I

should never have heard him even mention your name."

"No; considering our situation, it was not strange. Our first care has

been to keep the matter secret. You knew nothing of me, or my family,

and, therefore, there could be no _occasion_ for ever mentioning my

name to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's

suspecting any thing, _that_ was reason enough for his not mentioning

it."

She was silent. Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command did not

sink with it.

"Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice.

"Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait. Poor

Edward! It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature

from her pocket, she added, "To prevent the possibility of mistake, be

so good as to look at this face. It does not do him justice, to be

sure, but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was

drew for. I have had it above these three years."

She put it into her hands as she spoke; and when Elinor saw the

painting, whatever other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or

her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind,

she could have none of its being Edward's face. She returned it almost

instantly, acknowledging the likeness.

"I have never been able," continued Lucy, "to give him my picture in

return, which I am very much vexed at, for he has been always so

anxious to get it! But I am determined to set for it the very first

opportunity."

"You are quite in the right," replied Elinor calmly. They then

proceeded a few paces in silence. Lucy spoke first.

"I am sure," said she, "I have no doubt in the world of your

faithfully keeping this secret, because you must know of what

importance it is to us, not to have it reach his mother; for she

would never approve of it, I dare say. I shall have no fortune, and I

fancy she is an exceeding proud woman."

"I certainly did not seek your confidence," said Elinor; "but you do

me no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on. Your

secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some surprise at so

unnecessary a communication. You must at least have felt that my being

acquainted with it could not add to its safety."

As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping to discover

something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest

part of what she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no

change.

"I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you,"

said she, "in telling you all this. I have not known you long to be

sure, personally at least, but I have known you and all your family by

description a great while; and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost as

if you was an old acquaintance. Besides in the present case, I really

thought some explanation was due to you after my making such

particular inquiries about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate,

that I have not a creature whose advice I can ask. Anne is the only

person that knows of it, and she has no judgment at all; indeed, she

does me a great deal more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of

her betraying me. She does not know how to hold her tongue, as you

must perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest fright in the world

t'other day, when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, lest she

should out with it all. You can't think how much I go through in my

mind from it altogether. I only wonder that I am alive after what I

have suffered for Edward's sake these last four years. Every thing in

such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom--we can hardly

meet above twice a-year. I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite

broke."

Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very

compassionate.

"Sometimes," continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether

it would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely."

As she said this, she looked directly at her companion. "But then at

other times I have not resolution enough for it. I cannot bear the

thoughts of making him so miserable, as I know the very mention of

such a thing would do. And on my own account too--so dear as he is to

me--I don't think I could be equal to it. What would you advise me to

do in such a case, Miss Dashwood? What would you do yourself?"

"Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the question; "but I can give

you no advice under such circumstances. Your own judgment must direct

you."

"To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few minutes silence on both

sides, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; but poor

Edward is so cast down by it! Did you not think him dreadful

low-spirited when he was at Barton? He was so miserable when he left

us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was afraid you would think him

quite ill."

"Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he visited us?"

"Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us. Did you think he

came directly from town?"

"No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every fresh

circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity; "I remember he told us,

that he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth."

She remembered too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning

nothing farther of those friends, at his total silence with respect

even to their names.

"Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy.

"We did, indeed, particularly so when he first arrived."

"I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was

the matter; but it made him so melancholy, not being able to stay more

than a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected. Poor

fellow!--I am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he writes

in wretched spirits. I heard from him just before I left Exeter;"

taking a letter from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction

to Elinor. "You know his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but

that is not written so well as usual. He was tired, I dare say, for he

had just filled the sheet to me as full as possible."

Elinor saw that it _was_ his hand, and she could doubt no longer. This

picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been

accidentally obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; but a

correspondence between them by letter, could subsist only under a

positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing else; for a few

moments, she was almost overcome--her heart sunk within her, and she

could hardly stand; but exertion was indispensably necessary; and she

struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that

her success was speedy, and for the time complete.

"Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning the letter into her

pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations. Yes, I

have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Edward has not even

_that._ If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy. I gave

him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last,

and that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture.

Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?"

"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was

concealed an emotion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt

before. She was mortified, shocked, confounded.

Fortunately for her, they had now reached the cottage, and the

conversation could be continued no farther. After sitting with them a

few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was

then at liberty to think and be wretched.