tion of an
unpleasant event, however certain the mind may be told to consider it,
and certainty itself. She now found, that in spite of herself, she had
always admitted a hope, while Edward remained single, that something
would occur to prevent his marrying Lucy; that some resolution of his
own, some mediation of friends, or some more eligible opportunity of
establishment for the lady, would arise to assist the happiness of
all. But he was now married; and she condemned her heart for the
lurking flattery, which so much heightened the pain of the
intelligence.

That he should be married soon, before (as she imagined) he could be
in orders, and consequently before he could be in possession of the
living, surprised her a little at first. But she soon saw how likely
it was that Lucy, in her self-provident care, in her haste to secure
him, should overlook every thing but the risk of delay. They were
married, married in town, and now hastening down to her uncle's. What
had Edward felt on being within four miles from Barton, on seeing her
mother's servant, on hearing Lucy's message!

They would soon, she supposed, be settled at
Delaford;--Delaford,--that place in which so much conspired to give
her an interest; which she wished to be acquainted with, and yet
desired to avoid. She saw them in an instant in their parsonage-house;
saw in Lucy, the active, contriving manager, uniting at once a desire
of smart appearance with the utmost frugality, and ashamed to be
suspected of half her economical practices; pursuing her own interest
in every thought, courting the favour of Colonel Brandon, of Mrs.
Jennings, and of every wealthy friend. In Edward, she knew not what
she saw, nor what she wished to see. Happy or unhappy, nothing pleased
her; she turned away her head from every sketch of him.

Elinor flattered herself that some one of their connections in London
would write to them to announce the event, and give farther
particulars,--but day after day passed off, and brought no letter, no
tidings. Though uncertain that any one were to blame, she found fault
with every absent friend. They were all thoughtless or indolent.

"When do you write to Colonel Brandon, ma'am?" was an inquiry which
sprung from the impatience of her mind to have something going on.

"I wrote to him, my love, last week, and rather expect to see, than to
hear from him again. I earnestly pressed his coming to us, and should
not be surprised to see him walk i