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Chapter 43
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.
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,--
"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.
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.
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.
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