CHAPTER XLV

Elinor, for some time after he left her, for some time even after the

sound of his carriage had died away, remained too much oppressed by a

crowd of ideas, widely differing in themselves, but of which sadness

was the general result, to think even of her sister.

Willoughby, he, whom only half an hour ago she had abhorred as the

most worthless of men, Willoughby, in spite of all his faults, excited

a degree of commiseration for the sufferings produced by them, which

made her think of him as now separated for ever from her family, with

a tenderness, a regret, rather in proportion, as she soon acknowledged

within herself--to his wishes than to his merits. She felt that his

influence over her mind was heightened by circumstances which ought

not in reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon attraction,

that open, affectionate, and lively manner which it was no merit to

possess; and by that still ardent love for Marianne, which it was not

even innocent to indulge. But she felt that it was so, long, long

before she could feel his influence less.

When at last she returned to the unconscious Marianne, she found her

just awaking, refreshed by so long and sweet a sleep to the extent of

her hopes. Elinor's heart was full. The past, the present, the future,

Willoughby's visit, Marianne's safety, and her mother's expected

arrival, threw her altogether into an agitation of spirits which kept

off every indication of fatigue, and made her only fearful of

betraying herself to her sister. Short was the time, however, in which

that fear could affect her, for within half an hour after Willoughby's

leaving the house, she was again called down stairs by the sound of

another carriage. Eager to save her mother from every unnecessary

moment's horrible suspense, she ran immediately into the hall, and

reached the outward door just in time to receive and support her as

she entered it.

Mrs. Dashwood, whose terror as they drew near the house had produced

almost the conviction of Marianne's being no more, had no voice to

inquire after her, no voice even for Elinor; but _she_, waiting

neither for salutation nor inquiry, instantly gave the joyful relief;

and her mother, catching it with all her usual warmth, was in a moment

as much overcome by her happiness, as she had been before by her

fears. She was supported into the drawing-room between her daughter

and her friend; and there, shedding tears of joy, though still unable

to speak, embraced Elinor again and again, turning from her at

intervals to press Colonel Brandon's hand, with a look which spoke at

once her gratitude, and her conviction of his sharing with herself in

the bliss of the moment. He shared it, however, in a silence even

greater than her own.

As soon as Mrs. Dashwood had recovered herself, to see Marianne was

her first desire; and in two minutes she was with her beloved child,

rendered dearer to her than ever by absence, unhappiness, and danger.

Elinor's delight, as she saw what each felt in the meeting, was only

checked by an apprehension of its robbing Marianne of farther

sleep;--but Mrs. Dashwood could be calm, could be even prudent, when

the life of a child was at stake, and Marianne, satisfied in knowing

her mother was near her, and conscious of being too weak for

conversation, submitted readily to the silence and quiet prescribed by

every nurse around her. Mrs. Dashwood _would_ sit up with her all

night; and Elinor, in compliance with her mother's entreaty, went to

bed. But the rest, which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours

of the most wearing anxiety seemed to make requisite, was kept off by

irritation of spirits. Willoughby, "poor Willoughby," as she now

allowed herself to call him, was constantly in her thoughts; she would

not but have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed, now

acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly before. But her

promise of relating it to her sister was invariably painful. She

dreaded the performance of it, dreaded what its effect on Marianne

might be; doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be

happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower.

Then, remembering Colonel Brandon, reproved herself, felt that to

_his_ sufferings and _his_ constancy far more than to his rival's, the

reward of her sister was due, and wished any thing rather than Mrs.

Willoughby's death.

The shock of Colonel Brandon's errand at Barton had been much softened

to Mrs. Dashwood by her own previous alarm; for so great was her

uneasiness about Marianne, that she had already determined to set out

for Cleveland on that very day, without waiting for any further

intelligence, and had so far settled her journey before his arrival,

that the Careys were then expected every moment to fetch Margaret

away, as her mother was unwilling to take her where there might be

infection.

Marianne continued to mend every day, and the brilliant cheerfulness

of Mrs. Dashwood's looks and spirits proved her to be, as she

repeatedly declared herself, one of the happiest women in the world.

Elinor could not hear the declaration, nor witness its proofs without

sometimes wondering whether her mother ever recollected Edward. But

Mrs. Dashwood, trusting to the temperate account of her own

disappointment which Elinor had sent her, was led away by the

exuberance of her joy to think only of what would increase it.

Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which, as she now began

to feel, her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate

attachment to Willoughby, had contributed to place her; and in her

recovery she had yet another source of joy unthought of by Elinor. It

was thus imparted to her, as soon as any opportunity of private

conference between them occurred.

"At last we are alone. My Elinor, you do not yet know all my

happiness. Colonel Brandon loves Marianne. He has told me so himself."

Her daughter, feeling by turns both pleased and pained, surprised and

not surprised, was all silent attention.

"You are never like me, dear Elinor, or I should wonder at your

composure now. Had I sat down to wish for any possible good to my

family, I should have fixed on Colonel Brandon's marrying one of you

as the object most desirable. And I believe Marianne will be the most

happy with him of the two."

Elinor was half inclined to ask her reason for thinking so, because

satisfied that none founded on an impartial consideration of their

age, characters, or feelings, could be given;--but her mother must

always be carried away by her imagination on any interesting subject,

and therefore instead of an inquiry, she passed it off with a smile.

"He opened his whole heart to me yesterday as we travelled. It came

out quite unawares, quite undesignedly. I, you may well believe, could

talk of nothing but my child;--he could not conceal his distress; I

saw that it equalled my own, and he perhaps, thinking that mere

friendship, as the world now goes, would not justify so warm a

sympathy--or rather, not thinking at all, I suppose--giving way to

irresistible feelings, made me acquainted with his earnest, tender,

constant, affection for Marianne. He has loved her, my Elinor, ever

since the first moment of seeing her."

Here, however, Elinor perceived,--not the language, not the

professions of Colonel Brandon, but the natural embellishments of her

mother's active fancy, which fashioned every thing delightful to her

as it chose.

"His regard for her, infinitely surpassing anything that Willoughby

ever felt or feigned, as much more warm, as more sincere or constant,

which ever we are to call it, has subsisted through all the knowledge

of dear Marianne's unhappy prepossession for that worthless young man!

and without selfishness, without encouraging a hope! could he have

seen her happy with another. Such a noble mind! such openness, such

sincerity! No one can be deceived in _him._"

"Colonel Brandon's character," said Elinor, "as an excellent man, is

well established."

"I know it is," replied her mother seriously, "or after such a

warning, I should be the last to encourage such affection, or even to

be pleased by it. But his coming for me as he did, with such active,

such ready friendship, is enough to prove him one of the worthiest of

men."

"His character, however," answered Elinor, "does not rest on _one_ act

of kindness, to which his affection for Marianne, were humanity out of

the case, would have prompted him. To Mrs. Jennings, to the

Middletons, he has been long and intimately known; they equally love

and respect him; and even my own knowledge of him, though lately

acquired, is very considerable; and so highly do I value and esteem

him, that if Marianne can be happy with him, I shall be as ready as

yourself to think our connection the greatest blessing to us in the

world. What answer did you give him? Did you allow him to hope?"

"Oh! my love, I could not then talk of hope to him or to myself.

Marianne might at that moment be dying. But he did not ask for hope or

encouragement. His was an involuntary confidence, an irrepressible

effusion to a soothing friend, not an application to a parent. Yet

after a time I _did_ say, for at first I was quite overcome, that if

she lived, as I trusted she might, my greatest happiness would lie in

promoting their marriage; and since our arrival, since our delightful

security, I have repeated it to him more fully, have given him every

encouragement in my power. Time, a very little time, I tell him, will

do everything; Marianne's heart is not to be wasted for ever on such a

man as Willoughby. His own merits must soon secure it."

"To judge from the Colonel's spirits, however, you have not yet made

him equally sanguine."

"No. He thinks Marianne's affection too deeply rooted for any change

in it under a great length of time, and even supposing her heart again

free, is too diffident of himself to believe, that with such a

difference of age and disposition he could ever attach her. There,

however, he is quite mistaken. His age is only so much beyond hers as

to be an advantage, as to make his character and principles

fixed;--and his disposition, I am well convinced, is exactly the very

one to make your sister happy. And his person, his manners too, are

all in his favour. My partiality does not blind me; he certainly is

not so handsome as Willoughby--but at the same time, there is

something much more pleasing in his countenance. There was always a

something,--if you remember,--in Willoughby's eyes at times, which I

did not like."

Elinor could _not_ remember it;--but her mother, without waiting for

her assent, continued--

"And his manners, the Colonel's manners are not only more pleasing to

me than Willoughby's ever were, but they are of a kind I well know to

be more solidly attaching to Marianne. Their gentleness, their

genuine attention to other people, and their manly unstudied

simplicity is much more accordant with her real disposition, than the

liveliness--often artificial, and often ill-timed of the other. I am

very sure myself, that had Willoughby turned out as really amiable, as

he has proved himself the contrary, Marianne would yet never have been

so happy with _him_ as she will be with Colonel Brandon."

She paused. Her daughter could not quite agree with her, but her

dissent was not heard, and therefore gave no offence.

"At Delaford, she will be within an easy distance of me," added Mrs.

Dashwood, "even if I remain at Barton; and in all probability,--for I

hear it is a large village,--indeed there certainly _must_ be some

small house or cottage close by, that would suit us quite as well as

our present situation."

Poor Elinor!--here was a new scheme for getting her to Delaford!--but

her spirit was stubborn.

"His fortune too!--for at my time of life you know, everybody cares

about _that_;--and though I neither know nor desire to know, what it

really is, I am sure it must be a good one."

Here they were interrupted by the entrance of a third person, and

Elinor withdrew to think it all over in private, to wish success to

her friend, and yet in wishing it, to feel a pang for Willoughby.