CHAPTER 43

     Marianne got up the next morning at her usual time;

to every inquiry replied that she was better, and tried to

prove herself so, by engaging in her accustomary employments.

But a day spent in sitting shivering over the fire

with a book in her hand, which she was unable to read,

or in lying, weary and languid, on a sofa, did not speak

much in favour of her amendment; and when, at last,

she went early to bed, more and more indisposed, Colonel

Brandon was only astonished at her sister's composure,

who, though attending and nursing her the whole day,

against Marianne inclination, and forcing proper medicines

on her at night, trusted, like Marianne, to the certainty

and efficacy of sleep, and felt no real alarm.
 
 

     A very restless and feverish night, however,

disappointed the expectation of both; and when Marianne,

after persisting in rising, confessed herself unable

to sit up, and returned voluntarily to her bed,

Elinor was very ready to adopt Mrs. Jennings's advice,

of sending for the Palmers' apothecary.
 
 

     He came, examined his patient, and though encouraging

Miss Dashwood to expect that a very few days would restore

her sister to health, yet, by pronouncing her disorder

to have a putrid tendency, and allowing the word "infection"

to pass his lips, gave instant alarm to Mrs. Palmer,

on her baby's account.  Mrs. Jennings, who had been inclined

from the first to think Marianne's complaint more serious

than Elinor, now looked very grave on Mr. Harris's report,

and confirming Charlotte's fears and caution, urged the

necessity of her immediate removal with her infant;

and Mr. Palmer, though treating their apprehensions as idle,

found the anxiety and importunity of his wife too great

to be withstood.  Her departure, therefore, was fixed on;

and within an hour after Mr. Harris's arrival, she set off,

with her little boy and his nurse, for the house of a

near relation of Mr. Palmer's, who lived a few miles

on the other side of Bath; whither her husband promised,

at her earnest entreaty, to join her in a day or two;

and whither she was almost equally urgent with her

mother to accompany her.  Mrs. Jennings, however, with a

kindness of heart which made Elinor really love her,

declared her resolution of not stirring from Cleveland

as long as Marianne remained ill, and of endeavouring,

by her own attentive care, to supply to her the place

of the mother she had taken her from; and Elinor found her

on every occasion a most willing and active helpmate,

desirous to share in all her fatigues, and often by her

better experience in nursing, of material use.
 
 

     Poor Marianne, languid and low from the nature

of her malady, and feeling herself universally ill,

could no longer hope that tomorrow would find her recovered;

and the idea of what tomorrow would have produced,

but for this unlucky illness, made every ailment severe;

for on that day they were to have begun their journey home;

and, attended the whole way by a servant of Mrs. Jennings,

were to have taken their mother by surprise on the

following forenoon.  The little she said was all in

lamentation of this inevitable delay; though Elinor tried

to raise her spirits, and make her believe, as she THEN

really believed herself, that it would be a very short one.
 
 

     The next day produced little or no alteration in the

state of the patient; she certainly was not better, and,

except that there was no amendment, did not appear worse.

Their party was now farther reduced; for Mr. Palmer,

though very unwilling to go as well from real humanity

and good-nature, as from a dislike of appearing to be

frightened away by his wife, was persuaded at last

by Colonel Brandon to perform his promise of following her;

and while he was preparing to go, Colonel Brandon himself,

with a much greater exertion, began to talk of going

likewise.--Here, however, the kindness of Mrs. Jennings

interposed most acceptably; for to send the Colonel away

while his love was in so much uneasiness on her sister's

account, would be to deprive them both, she thought,

of every comfort; and therefore telling him at once

that his stay at Cleveland was necessary to herself,

that she should want him to play at piquet of an evening,

while Miss Dashwood was above with her sister, &c. she

urged him so strongly to remain, that he, who was gratifying

the first wish of his own heart by a compliance, could not

long even affect to demur; especially as Mrs. Jennings's

entreaty was warmly seconded by Mr. Palmer, who seemed

to feel a relief to himself, in leaving behind him a person

so well able to assist or advise Miss Dashwood in any emergence.
 
 

     Marianne was, of course, kept in ignorance of all

these arrangements.  She knew not that she had been

the means of sending the owners of Cleveland away,

in about seven days from the time of their arrival.

It gave her no surprise that she saw nothing of Mrs. Palmer;

and as it gave her likewise no concern, she never mentioned

her name.
 
 

     Two days passed away from the time of Mr. Palmer's departure,

and her situation continued, with little variation,

the same.  Mr. Harris, who attended her every day,

still talked boldly of a speedy recovery, and Miss Dashwood

was equally sanguine; but the expectation of the others

was by no means so cheerful.  Mrs. Jennings had determined

very early in the seizure that Marianne would never

get over it, and Colonel Brandon, who was chiefly

of use in listening to Mrs. Jennings's forebodings,

was not in a state of mind to resist their influence.

He tried to reason himself out of fears, which the different

judgment of the apothecary seemed to render absurd;

but the many hours of each day in which he was left

entirely alone, were but too favourable for the admission

of every melancholy idea, and he could not expel from

his mind the persuasion that he should see Marianne no more.
 
 

     On the morning of the third day however, the gloomy

anticipations of both were almost done away; for when

Mr. Harris arrived, he declared his patient materially better.

Her pulse was much stronger, and every symptom more favourable

than on the preceding visit.  Elinor, confirmed in every

pleasant hope, was all cheerfulness; rejoicing that

in her letters to her mother, she had pursued her own

judgment rather than her friend's, in making very light

of the indisposition which delayed them at Cleveland;

and almost fixing on the time when Marianne would be able

to travel.
 
 

     But the day did not close so auspiciously as it began.--

Towards the evening Marianne became ill again, growing

more heavy, restless, and uncomfortable than before.

Her sister, however, still sanguine, was willing to

attribute the change to nothing more than the fatigue

of having sat up to have her bed made; and carefully

administering the cordials prescribed, saw her, with

satisfaction, sink at last into a slumber, from which

she expected the most beneficial effects.  Her sleep,

though not so quiet as Elinor wished to see it,

lasted a considerable time; and anxious to observe

the result of it herself, she resolved to sit with her

during the whole of it.  Mrs. Jennings, knowing nothing

of any change in the patient, went unusually early to bed;

her maid, who was one of the principal nurses, was recreating

herself in the housekeeper's room, and Elinor remained

alone with Marianne.
 
 

     The repose of the latter became more and more disturbed;

and her sister, who watched, with unremitting attention

her continual change of posture, and heard the frequent

but inarticulate sounds of complaint which passed her lips,

was almost wishing to rouse her from so painful a slumber,

when Marianne, suddenly awakened by some accidental noise

in the house, started hastily up, and, with feverish wildness,

cried out,--
 
 

     "Is mama coming?--"
 
 

     "Not yet," cried the other, concealing her terror,

and assisting Marianne to lie down again, "but she will

be here, I hope, before it is long.  It is a great way,

you know, from hence to Barton."
 
 

     "But she must not go round by London," cried Marianne,

in the same hurried manner.  "I shall never see her,

if she goes by London."
 
 

     Elinor perceived with alarm that she was not

quite herself, and, while attempting to soothe her,

eagerly felt her pulse.  It was lower and quicker than ever!

and Marianne, still talking wildly of mama, her alarm

increased so rapidly, as to determine her on sending

instantly for Mr. Harris, and despatching a messenger

to Barton for her mother.  To consult with Colonel Brandon

on the best means of effecting the latter, was a thought

which immediately followed the resolution of its performance;

and as soon she had rung up the maid to take her place

by her sister, she hastened down to the drawing-room,

where she knew he was generally to be found at a much

later hour than the present.
 
 

     It was no time for hesitation.  Her fears and her

difficulties were immediately before him.  Her fears,

he had no courage, no confidence to attempt the removal of:--

he listened to them in silent despondence;--but her

difficulties were instantly obviated, for with a readiness

that seemed to speak the occasion, and the service

pre-arranged in his mind, he offered himself as the

messenger who should fetch Mrs. Dashwood.  Elinor made no

resistance that was not easily overcome.  She thanked him

with brief, though fervent gratitude, and while he went

to hurry off his servant with a message to Mr. Harris, and

an order for post-horses directly, she wrote a few lines

to her mother.
 
 

     The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel

Brandon--or such a companion for her mother,--how gratefully

was it felt!--a companion whose judgment would guide,

whose attendance must relieve, and whose friendship might

soothe her!--as far as the shock of such a summons COULD

be lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his assistance,

would lessen it.
 
 

     HE, meanwhile, whatever he might feel, acted with all

the firmness of a collected mind, made every necessary

arrangement with the utmost despatch, and calculated

with exactness the time in which she might look for

his return.  Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind.

The horses arrived, even before they were expected,

and Colonel Brandon only pressing her hand with a look

of solemnity, and a few words spoken too low to reach her ear,

hurried into the carriage.  It was then about twelve

o'clock, and she returned to her sister's apartment to wait

for the arrival of the apothecary, and to watch by her

the rest of the night.  It was a night of almost equal

suffering to both.  Hour after hour passed away in sleepless

pain and delirium on Marianne's side, and in the most

cruel anxiety on Elinor's, before Mr. Harris appeared.

Her apprehensions once raised, paid by their excess for all

her former security; and the servant who sat up with her,

for she would not allow Mrs. Jennings to be called,

only tortured her more, by hints of what her mistress

had always thought.
 
 

     Marianne's ideas were still, at intervals,

fixed incoherently on her mother, and whenever she

mentioned her name, it gave a pang to the heart of

poor Elinor, who, reproaching herself for having trifled

with so many days of illness, and wretched for some

immediate relief, fancied that all relief might soon

be in vain, that every thing had been delayed too long,

and pictured to herself her suffering mother arriving

too late to see this darling child, or to see her rational.
 
 

     She was on the point of sending again for Mr. Harris,

or if HE could not come, for some other advice,

when the former--but not till after five o'clock--arrived.

His opinion, however, made some little amends for his delay,

for though acknowledging a very unexpected and unpleasant

alteration in his patient, he would not allow the danger

to be material, and talked of the relief which a fresh

mode of treatment must procure, with a confidence which,

in a lesser degree, was communicated to Elinor.  He promised

to call again in the course of three or four hours,

and left both the patient and her anxious attendant more

composed than he had found them.
 
 

     With strong concern, and with many reproaches for not

being called to their aid, did Mrs. Jennings hear in the

morning of what had passed.  Her former apprehensions,

now with greater reason restored, left her no doubt of

the event; and though trying to speak comfort to Elinor,

her conviction of her sister's danger would not allow her

to offer the comfort of hope.  Her heart was really grieved.

The rapid decay, the early death of a girl so young,

so lovely as Marianne, must have struck a less interested

person with concern.  On Mrs. Jennings's compassion

she had other claims.  She had been for three months

her companion, was still under her care, and she was

known to have been greatly injured, and long unhappy.

The distress of her sister too, particularly a favourite,

was before her;--and as for their mother, when Mrs. Jennings

considered that Marianne might probably be to HER what

Charlotte was to herself, her sympathy in HER sufferings

was very sincere.
 
 

     Mr. Harris was punctual in his second visit;--

but he came to be disappointed in his hopes of what the

last would produce.  His medicines had failed;--the fever

was unabated; and Marianne only more quiet--not more

herself--remained in a heavy stupor.  Elinor, catching all,

and more than all, his fears in a moment, proposed to call

in further advice.  But he judged it unnecessary: he had

still something more to try, some more fresh application,

of whose success he was as confident as the last, and his

visit concluded with encouraging assurances which reached

the ear, but could not enter the heart of Miss Dashwood.

She was calm, except when she thought of her mother;

but she was almost hopeless; and in this state she continued

till noon, scarcely stirring from her sister's bed,

her thoughts wandering from one image of grief,

one suffering friend to another, and her spirits oppressed

to the utmost by the conversation of Mrs. Jennings,

who scrupled not to attribute the severity and danger

of this attack to the many weeks of previous indisposition

which Marianne's disappointment had brought on.

Elinor felt all the reasonableness of the idea, and it

gave fresh misery to her reflections.
 
 

     About noon, however, she began--but with a caution--a

dread of disappointment which for some time kept her silent,

even to her friend--to fancy, to hope she could perceive

a slight amendment in her sister's pulse;--she waited,

watched, and examined it again and again;--and at last,

with an agitation more difficult to bury under exterior calmness,

than all her foregoing distress, ventured to communicate

her hopes.  Mrs. Jennings, though forced, on examination,

to acknowledge a temporary revival, tried to keep her

young friend from indulging a thought of its continuance;--

and Elinor, conning over every injunction of distrust,

told herself likewise not to hope.  But it was too late.

Hope had already entered; and feeling all its anxious flutter,

she bent over her sister to watch--she hardly knew for what.

Half an hour passed away, and the favourable symptom

yet blessed her.  Others even arose to confirm it.

Her breath, her skin, her lips, all flattered Elinor

with signs of amendment; and Marianne fixed her eyes on

her with a rational, though languid, gaze.  Anxiety and

hope now oppressed her in equal degrees, and left her no

moment of tranquillity till the arrival of Mr. Harris at

four o'clock;--when his assurances, his felicitations on

a recovery in her sister even surpassing his expectation,

gave her confidence, comfort, and tears of joy.
 
 

     Marianne was in every respect materially better,

and he declared her entirely out of danger.  Mrs. Jennings,

perhaps satisfied with the partial justification of her

forebodings which had been found in their late alarm,

allowed herself to trust in his judgment, and admitted,

with unfeigned joy, and soon with unequivocal cheerfulness,

the probability of an entire recovery.
 
 

     Elinor could not be cheerful.  Her joy was of a

different kind, and led to any thing rather than to gaiety.

Marianne restored to life, health, friends, and to her

doting mother, was an idea to fill her heart with sensations

of exquisite comfort, and expand it in fervent gratitude;--

but it lead to no outward demonstrations of joy, no words,

no smiles.  All within Elinor's breast was satisfaction,

silent and strong.
 
 

     She continued by the side of her sister, with little

intermission the whole afternoon, calming every fear,

satisfying every inquiry of her enfeebled spirits,

supplying every succour, and watching almost every look and

every breath.  The possibility of a relapse would of course,

in some moments, occur to remind her of what anxiety was--

but when she saw, on her frequent and minute examination,

that every symptom of recovery continued, and saw Marianne

at six o'clock sink into a quiet, steady, and to all

appearance comfortable, sleep, she silenced every doubt.
 
 

     The time was now drawing on, when Colonel Brandon

might be expected back.  At ten o'clock, she trusted,

or at least not much later her mother would be relieved

from the dreadful suspense in which she must now be

travelling towards them.  The Colonel, too!--perhaps scarcely

less an object of pity!--Oh!--how slow was the progress

of time which yet kept them in ignorance!
 
 

     At seven o'clock, leaving Marianne still sweetly asleep,

she joined Mrs. Jennings in the drawing-room to tea.

Of breakfast she had been kept by her fears, and of

dinner by their sudden reverse, from eating much;--

and the present refreshment, therefore, with such feelings

of content as she brought to it, was particularly welcome.

Mrs. Jennings would have persuaded her, at its conclusion,

to take some rest before her mother's arrival, and allow HER to

take her place by Marianne; but Elinor had no sense of fatigue,

no capability of sleep at that moment about her, and she was

not to be kept away from her sister an unnecessary instant.

Mrs. Jennings therefore attending her up stairs into the

sick chamber, to satisfy herself that all continued right,

left her there again to her charge and her thoughts,

and retired to her own room to write letters and sleep.
 
 

     The night was cold and stormy.  The wind roared

round the house, and the rain beat against the windows;

but Elinor, all happiness within, regarded it not.

Marianne slept through every blast; and the travellers--

they had a rich reward in store, for every present inconvenience.
 
 

     The clock struck eight.  Had it been ten,

Elinor would have been convinced that at that moment

she heard a carriage driving up to the house;

and so strong was the persuasion that she DID, in spite

of the ALMOST impossibility of their being already come,

that she moved into the adjoining dressing-closet and

opened a window shutter, to be satisfied of the truth.

She instantly saw that her ears had not deceived her.

The flaring lamps of a carriage were immediately in view.

By their uncertain light she thought she could discern it

to be drawn by four horses; and this, while it told the

excess of her poor mother's alarm, gave some explanation

to such unexpected rapidity.
 
 

     Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficult

to be calm, as at that moment.  The knowledge of what her

mother must be feeling as the carriage stopt at the door--

of her doubt--her dread--perhaps her despair!--and

of what SHE had to tell!--with such knowledge it was

impossible to be calm.  All that remained to be done

was to be speedy; and, therefore staying only till

she could leave Mrs. Jennings's maid with her sister,

she hurried down stairs.
 
 

     The bustle in the vestibule, as she passed along

an inner lobby, assured her that they were already

in the house.  She rushed to the drawing-room,--she

entered it,--and saw only Willoughby.