finished_summaries/cliffnotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_26_part_0.txt
Sense and Sensibility.chapter 38
chapter 38
{"name": "Chapter 38", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201101060302/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/s/sense-and-sensibility/summary-and-analysis/chapter-38", "summary": "Marianne continued to grieve over her dear sister's pain and over her own lack of control in the face of Elinor's fortitude. For several days, nothing more was heard about Edward and Lucy. The third day was \"so fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens.\" There Elinor met Anne Steele, who by eavesdropping on their conversation was able to tell her that Edward finally came to see Lucy and offered to release her from their engagement: \"But, to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking.\" Edward had decided to enter the Church and could not marry until he found a living. Elinor related this to Mrs. Jennings, who said, \"Wait for a living! Aye, we all know how that will end; they will wait for a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it, will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a year.\" Later, Elinor received a letter from Lucy confirming this information and hinting that she would appreciate any assistance people would give her.", "analysis": "This chapter affords an excellent example of the author's skill in depicting character and personality through dialogue. All of Anne Steele's vulgarity, lack of education, and weakness of character are revealed in her lengthy monologue. She is coy about \"the doctor's\" preference for her, which seems to exist wholly in her mind. She is completely mercenary in her constant talk of money and Edward's lack of it. She is wholly without reticence, even explaining how she listened at the door when Edward and Lucy were talking together in the drawing room. In complete contrast, Elinor, in her brief and discreet replies, shows her good breeding. She is naturally curious to know what has gone on between Edward and Lucy, but she does not ply Anne with questions, and she is genuinely horrified at hearing of Anne's eavesdropping: \"I certainly would not have suffered you to give me particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known yourself.\""}


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."



Chapter 38
Marianne continued to grieve over her dear sister's pain and over her own lack of control in the face of Elinor's fortitude. For several days, nothing more was heard about Edward and Lucy. The third day was "so fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens." There Elinor met Anne Steele, who by eavesdropping on their conversation was able to tell her that Edward finally came to see Lucy and offered to release her from their engagement: "But, to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking." Edward had decided to enter the Church and could not marry until he found a living. Elinor related this to Mrs. Jennings, who said, "Wait for a living! Aye, we all know how that will end; they will wait for a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it, will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a year." Later, Elinor received a letter from Lucy confirming this information and hinting that she would appreciate any assistance people would give her.
This chapter affords an excellent example of the author's skill in depicting character and personality through dialogue. All of Anne Steele's vulgarity, lack of education, and weakness of character are revealed in her lengthy monologue. She is coy about "the doctor's" preference for her, which seems to exist wholly in her mind. She is completely mercenary in her constant talk of money and Edward's lack of it. She is wholly without reticence, even explaining how she listened at the door when Edward and Lucy were talking together in the drawing room. In complete contrast, Elinor, in her brief and discreet replies, shows her good breeding. She is naturally curious to know what has gone on between Edward and Lucy, but she does not ply Anne with questions, and she is genuinely horrified at hearing of Anne's eavesdropping: "I certainly would not have suffered you to give me particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known yourself."