Hello.
Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.
Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.
But before we begin,
Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
That's it.
Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen Chapter 42 One other short call in Harley Street in which Eleanor received her brother's congratulations on their travelling so far towards Barton without any expense,
And on Colonel Brandon's being to follow them to Cleveland in a day or two.
Completed the intercourse of the brother and sisters in town,
And a faint invitation from Fanny to come to Norland whenever it should happen to be in their way,
With a more warm,
Though less public assurance from John to Eleanor of the promptitude with which he should come to see her at Delaford,
Was all that foretold any meeting in the country.
Very early in April,
The two parties from Hanover Square and Berkeley Street set out from their respective homes to meet by appointment on the road.
For the convenience of Charlotte and her child,
They were to be more than two days on their journey,
And Mr.
Palmer,
Travelling most expediently with Colonel Brandon,
Was to join them to Cleveland soon after their arrival.
Marianne could not bid adieu to the house in which she had for the last time enjoyed these hopes,
And that confidence in Willoughby which were now extinguished forever without great pain.
Nor could she leave the place in which Willoughby remained without shedding many tears.
Eleanor was more positive.
She had no such object for her lingering thoughts to fix on.
She was pleased to be free herself from the persecution of Lucy's friendship,
She was grateful for bringing her sister away unseen by Willoughby since his marriage,
And she looked forward with hope to what a few months of tranquillity at Barton might do towards restoring Marianne's peace of mind and confirming her own.
The second day brought them into the cherished or the prohibited county of Somerset,
And in the forenoon of the third they drove up to Cleveland.
Cleveland was a spacious modern built house situated on a sloping lawn.
It had its open shrubbery and a road of smooth gravel winding round a plantation led to the front.
Marianne entered the house with a heart swelling with emotion from the consciousness of being only 80 miles from Barton and not 30 from Coon Magna,
And before she had been five minutes within its walls she quitted it again,
Stealing away through the winding shrubberies,
Now just beginning to be in beauty,
To gain a distant eminence where from its Grecian temple her eye,
Wandering over a wide tract of country to the southeast,
Could fondly rest on the furthest ridge of hills in the horizon and fancy that from their summits Coon Magna might be seen.
She returned just in time to join the others as they quitted the house on an excursion through its more immediate premises,
And the rest of the morning was easily whiled away in lounging round the kitchen garden,
Examining the bloom upon its walls,
In dawdling through the greenhouse where the loss of her favourite plants,
Unwarily exposed and nipped by the lingering frost,
Raised the laughter of Charlotte.
The morning was fine and dry,
And Marianne had not calculated for any change of weather during their stay.
With great surprise,
Therefore,
Did she find herself prevented by a settled rain from going out again after dinner.
She had depended on a twilight walk to the Grecian temple,
But a heavy and settled rain even she could not fancy dry or pleasant weather for walking.
Their party was small,
And the hours passed quietly away.
Mrs.
Palmer had her child and Mrs.
Jennings her carpet work.
They talked of the friends they had left behind,
And wondered whether Mr.
Palmer and Colonel Brandon would get further than Reading that night.
Eleanor,
However little concerned in it,
Joined in their discourse.
However little concerned in it,
Joined in their discourse,
And Marianne,
Who had the knack of finding her way in every house to the library,
However it might be avoided by the family in general,
Soon procured herself a book.
Nothing was wanting on Mrs.
Palmer's side that constant and friendly good humour could do to make them feel themselves welcome.
The openness and heartiness of her manner were engaging.
Her folly,
Though evident,
Was not disgusting,
Because it was not conceited,
And Eleanor could have forgiven everything but her laugh.
The two gentlemen arrived the next day to a very late dinner.
Eleanor had seen so little of Mr.
Palmer,
And in that little had seen so much variety in his address to her sister and herself,
That she knew not what to expect to find him in his own family.
She found him,
However,
Perfectly the gentleman in his behaviour to all his visitors,
And only occasionally rude to his wife and her mother.
She found him very capable of being a pleasant companion,
And only prevented from being so always by too great an aptitude to fancy himself as much superior to people in general,
As he must feel himself to be Mrs.
Jennings and Charlotte.
She liked him,
However,
Upon the whole much better than she had expected,
And in her heart was not sorry that she could like him no more.
Of Edward she now received intelligence from Colonel Brandon,
Who,
Treating her at once as the disinterested friend of Mr.
Ferrars,
And the kind confidante of himself,
Taught to her a great deal of the parsonage at Delaford,
Described its deficiencies,
And told her what he meant to do himself towards removing them.
His behaviour to her in this,
His open pleasure in meeting her after an absence of only ten days,
Might very well justify Mrs.
Jennings' persuasion of his attachment,
And would have been enough,
Perhaps,
Had not Eleanor still,
As from the first,
Believed Marianne his real favourite,
Make her suspect it herself.
But as it was,
Such a notion had scarcely ever entered her head,
Except by Mrs.
Jennings' suggestion,
And she could not help believing herself the nicest observer of the two.
And while his looks of anxious solicitude on Marianne's feeling the beginning of a heavy cold,
Because,
Unexpressed by words,
Entirely escaped the latter lady's observation,
She could discover in them the quick feelings and needless alarm of a lover.
Two delightful twilight walks on the third and fourth evenings of her being there,
Assisted by the still greater imprudence of sitting in her wet shoes and stockings,
Had given Marianne a cold so violent,
As though for a day or two trifled with or denied,
Would force itself by increasing ailments on the concern of everybody and the notice of herself.
Though heavy and feverish with a pain in her limbs,
A cough and a sore throat,
A good night's rest was to cure her entirely,
And it was with difficulty that Eleanor prevailed on her when she went to bed,
To try one or two of the simplest of the remedies.
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 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 trusted like Marianne to the certainty and efficiency of sleep,
And felt no real alarm.
A very restless and feverish night,
However,
Disappointed the expectations of both,
And when Marianne,
After persisting in rising,
Confessed herself unable to sit up,
Eleanor was very ready to adopt Mrs Jennings's advice of sending for the Palmer's apothecary.
He came,
Examined his patient,
And though encouraging Miss Dashwood to expect a very few days would restore her sister to health,
Yet 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 Eleanor,
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.
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.
Mrs Jennings,
With a kindness of heart which made Eleanor really love her,
Declared her resolution of not stirring from Cleveland as long as Marianne remained ill,
And Eleanor 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 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 more severe.
For on that day they were to have begun their journey home,
And were to have taken their mother by surprise on the following forenoon.
The little that she said was all in lamentation of this inevitable delay,
Though Eleanor 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.
Their party was now further reduced,
For Mr Palmer was persuaded at last by Colonel Brandon to perform his promise of following his wife.
And while he was prepared to go,
Colonel Brandon 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 his stay in Cleveland was necessary to herself,
That she should want him to play at pique of an evening,
While Miss Dashwood was above with her sister,
Etc.
She urged him so strongly to remain,
That he could not long even affect her demur.
Marianne was kept in ignorance of all these arrangements.
She knew not that she had been the means of sending the owners of Cleveland away.
It gave her no surprise she saw nothing of Mrs Palmer,
And as it gave her likewise no concern,
She never mentioned her name.
Two days passed from the time of Mr Palmer's departure,
And her situation continued with little variation.
Mr Harris,
Who intended her every day,
Talked boldly of a speedy recovery,
And Miss Dashwood was equally sanguine.
Mrs Jennings had determined Marianne would never get over it,
And Colonel Brandon tried to reason himself out of fears,
Which the different judgment of the apothecary seemed to render absurd.
He could not expel from his mind the persuasion that he should see Marianne no more.
On the morning of the third day,
However,
When Mr Harris arrived,
He declared his patient materially better.
Her pulse was stronger,
And every symptom more favourable than on the preceding visit.
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,
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 Eleanor wished to see it,
Lasted a considerable time,
And 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,
And Eleanor remained alone with Marianne.
The repose of the latter became more and more disturbed,
And her sister,
Hearing 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,
'' replied Eleanor,
Concealing her terror and assisting Marianne to lie down again,
''but she will be here,
I hope,
Before it's too long.
'' ''But she must not go round by London,
'' cried Marianne,
''I shall never see her if she goes round by London.
'' Eleanor perceived with alarm she was not quite herself,
And eagerly felt her pulse.
It was lower and quicker than ever,
And Marianne was still talking wildly,
And Eleanor's alarm increased so rapidly as to determine her on sending instantly for Mr Harris,
And dispatching a letter for Barton for her mother.
To consult with Colonel Brandon on the best means of affecting the latter was a thought which immediately followed the resolution of its performance,
And she hastened down to the drawing-room,
Where she knew he was generally to be found.
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,
And he listened to them in silent despondence.
But her difficulties were instantly obviated,
For with a readiness that seemed to speak the occasion,
Colonel Brandon offered himself as a messenger who should fetch Mrs Dashwood.
Eleanor 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,
He wrote a few lines to her mother.
The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel Brandon,
Of such a companion for her mother,
How gratefully was it felt!
As far as the shock of such a summons could be lessened to her,
His presence,
His manners,
His assistance would lessen it.
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,
Hurried into the carriage.
It was then about twelve o'clock,
And Eleanor returned to her sister's apartment to wait for the arrival of the apothecary,
And to watch by her the rest of the night.
Hour after hour passed away in sleepless pain and delirium on Marianne's side,
And in the most cruel anxiety on Eleanor's,
Before Mr Harris appeared.
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 Eleanor,
Who fancied that all relief might soon be in vain,
That everything 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,
When he 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 Eleanor.
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 did Mrs Jennings hear in the morning of what had passed.
Her former apprehensions left her no doubt of the event,
And though trying to speak comfort to Eleanor,
Her conviction of her sister's danger would not allow her to offer the comfort of hope.
The rapid decay,
The early death of a girl so young and lovely as Marianne,
Must have struck a less interested person with concern.
On Mrs Jennings' 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.
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 most herself,
Remained in a heavy stupor.
Eleanor proposed to call in further advice,
But Mr Harris judged it unnecessary.
He had some fresh application,
Of whose success he was almost as confident as the last.
He had some fresh application,
Of whose success he was almost 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.
About noon,
However,
She began to fancy 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 Eleanor,
Conning over every injunction of distrust,
Told herself likewise not to hope.
But it was too late.
Hope had already entered.
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 fluttered Eleanor 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 until the arrival of Mr Harris at four o'clock,
When his assurances gave her confidence,
Comfort,
And tears of joy.
Marianne was in every respect materially better,
And he declared her entirely out of danger.
Eleanor could not be cheerful.
Her joy was of a different kind.
Marianne,
Restored to life,
Health,
Friends,
And her doting mother,
Was an idea to fill her heart with sensations of exquisite comfort.
But it led to no outward demonstrations of joy,
For within Eleanor's breast was satisfaction,
Silent and strong.
She continued by the side of her sister with little intermission the whole afternoon,
Watching almost every look and every breath.
At six o'clock,
Marianne sank into a quiet,
Steady,
And to all appearances,
Comfortable sleep,
Which silenced every doubt.
The day was over,
And the sun had set.
Which silenced every doubt.
The time was now drawing on when Colonel Brandon might be expected back.
At ten o'clock,
Eleanor 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.
At seven o'clock,
Leaving Marianne still sweetly asleep,
She joined Mrs Jennings in the drawing room to tea.
The night was cold and stormy,
But Eleanor,
All happiness within,
Regarded it not.
Marianne slept through every blast,
And the travellers had a rich reward in store for every present inconvenience.
The clock struck eight.
Had it been ten,
Eleanor would have been convinced 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.
She opened a window shutter to be satisfied of the truth.
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 of the excess of her poor mother's alarm,
Gave some explanation to such unexpected rapidity.
Never in her life had Eleanor found it so difficult to be calm as in that moment.
The knowledge of what her mother must be feeling as the carriage stopped at the door,
Of her doubt,
Her dread,
Perhaps her despair,
And of what she,
Eleanor,
Had to tell.
With such knowledge,
It was impossible to be calm.
All that remained to be done was to be speedy,
And therefore,
Eleanor hurried downstairs.
She rushed forwards towards the drawing room.
She entered it.
But there,
To her great surprise,
Stood Willoughby.
