feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/cliffnotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_25_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapter 37
feat_summary_id: chapter 37
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 37", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201101060302/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/s/sense-and-sensibility/summary-and-analysis/chapter-37", "summary": "While visiting her daughter Charlotte, Mrs. Jennings learned from Doctor Donovan that he had just left Mrs. John Dashwood, who was suffering from hysterics. Anne Steele had innocently revealed the news of Lucy Steele's engagement to Edward, and Fanny, aghast, had ordered Lucy out of her house. Elinor realized that she must tell Marianne about the whole affair before Marianne heard it from Mrs. Jennings. Her sister was heartbroken.\" What!\" she said. \"While attending me in all my misery, has this been on your heart?\" Elinor, taking advantage of her sister's recriminations, made Marianne promise to show discretion when hearing or talking about the affair. On the following day, the sisters again heard the story, this time from John Dashwood. He told them that Fanny had told her mother about the engagement, and Mrs. Ferrars had sent for Edward, who refused to break it. He left the house in spite of his mother's declaration that she would disinherit him. Mrs. Ferrars' latest plan was to give Edward's inheritance to his brother Robert, immediately.", "analysis": "Mrs. Jennings continues to reveal herself as the kindly and sensible creature she is. Her tactless curiosity and gossip began by offending Elinor and Marianne, but the sisters have by now learned that she has a big heart, which is what really matters. She energetically sides with Lucy against the wealth and family connections of the Dashwoods and the Ferrarses. \"I declare I have no patience with your sister,\" she says, indignant because Fanny Dashwood has thrown Lucy out of her house, \"and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her. . . . I have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and greatness.\" Ironically, her simple heart can see no contrivance in the devious Lucy."}
text: 
  
  Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that her mother felt
  it no longer necessary to give up the whole of her time to her; and,
  contenting herself with visiting her once or twice a day, returned from
  that period to her own home, and her own habits, in which she found the
  Miss Dashwoods very ready to resume their former share.
  
  About the third or fourth morning after their being thus resettled in
  Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings, on returning from her ordinary visit to
  Mrs. Palmer, entered the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by
  herself, with an air of such hurrying importance as prepared her to
  hear something wonderful; and giving her time only to form that idea,
  began directly to justify it, by saying,
  
  "Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?"
  
  "No, ma'am.  What is it?"
  
  "Something so strange!  But you shall hear it all.-- When I got to Mr.
  Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in a fuss about the child.  She was
  sure it was very ill--it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples.
  So I looked at it directly, and, 'Lord! my dear,' says I, 'it is
  nothing in the world, but the red gum--' and nurse said just the same.
  But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so Mr. Donavan was sent for;
  and luckily he happened to just come in from Harley Street, so he
  stepped over directly, and as soon as ever Mama, he said
  just as we did, that it was nothing in the world but the red gum, and
  then Charlotte was easy.  And so, just as he was going away again, it
  came into my head, I am sure I do not know how I happened to think of
  it, but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news.  So upon
  that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave, and seemed to know
  something or other, and at last he said in a whisper, 'For fear any
  unpleasant report should reach the young ladies under your care as to
  their sister's indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I
  believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs. Dashwood will
  do very well.'"
  
  "What! is Fanny ill?"
  
  "That is exactly what I said, my dear.  'Lord!' says I, 'is Mrs.
  Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and the long and the short of
  the matter, by all I can learn, seems to be this.  Mr. Edward Ferrars,
  the very young man I used to joke with you about (but however, as it
  turns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thing in it), Mr.
  Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engaged above this twelvemonth to my
  cousin Lucy!--There's for you, my dear!--And not a creature knowing a
  syllable of the matter, except Nancy!--Could you have believed such a
  thing possible?-- There is no great wonder in their liking one another;
  but that matters should be brought so forward between them, and nobody
  suspect it!--THAT is strange!--I never happened to see them together,
  or I am sure I should have found it out directly.  Well, and so this
  was kept a great secret, for fear of Mrs. Ferrars, and neither she nor
  your brother or sister suspected a word of the matter;--till this very
  morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature, but no
  conjurer, popt it all out.  'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are
  all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about it;'
  and so, away she went to your sister, who was sitting all alone at her
  carpet-work, little suspecting what was to come--for she had just been
  saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that she thought to
  make a match between Edward and some Lord's daughter or other, I forget
  who.  So you may think what a blow it was to all her vanity and pride.
  She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such screams as
  reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his own dressing-room
  down stairs, thinking about writing a letter to his steward in the
  country.  So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for
  Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming what was going on.
  Poor soul!  I pity HER.  And I must say, I think she was used very
  hardly; for your sister scolded like any fury, and soon drove her into
  a fainting fit.  Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cried bitterly;
  and your brother, he walked about the room, and said he did not know
  what to do.  Mrs. Dashwood declared they should not stay a minute
  longer in the house, and your brother was forced to go down upon HIS
  knees too, to persuade her to let them stay till they had packed up
  their clothes.  THEN she fell into hysterics again, and he was so
  frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan, and Mr. Donavan found
  the house in all this uproar.  The carriage was at the door ready to
  take my poor cousins away, and they were just stepping in as he came
  off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, she could hardly walk; and
  Nancy, she was almost as bad.  I declare, I have no patience with your
  sister; and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of
  her.  Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward will be in when he hears of
  it!  To have his love used so scornfully! for they say he is monstrous
  fond of her, as well he may.  I should not wonder, if he was to be in
  the greatest passion!--and Mr. Donavan thinks just the same.  He and I
  had a great deal of talk about it; and the best of all is, that he is
  gone back again to Harley Street, that he may be within call when Mrs.
  Ferrars is told of it, for she was sent for as soon as ever my cousins
  left the house, for your sister was sure SHE would be in hysterics too;
  and so she may, for what I care.  I have no pity for either of them.  I
  have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and
  greatness.  There is no reason on earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should
  not marry; for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars may afford to do very well by her
  son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself, she knows better than
  any body how to make the most of every thing; I dare say, if Mrs.
  Ferrars would only allow him five hundred a-year, she would make as
  good an appearance with it as any body else would with eight.  Lord!
  how snug they might live in such another cottage as yours--or a little
  bigger--with two maids, and two men; and I believe I could help them to
  a housemaid, for my Betty has a sister out of place, that would fit
  them exactly."
  
  Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had time enough to collect
  her thoughts, she was able to give such an answer, and make such
  observations, as the subject might naturally be supposed to produce.
  Happy to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinary interest
  in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of late often hoped might be the
  case) had ceased to imagine her at all attached to Edward; and happy
  above all the rest, in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well able
  to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and to give her judgment,
  as she believed, with impartiality on the conduct of every one
  concerned in it.
  
  She could hardly determine what her own expectation of its event really
  was; though she earnestly tried to drive away the notion of its being
  possible to end otherwise at last, than in the marriage of Edward and
  Lucy.  What Mrs. Ferrars would say and do, though there could not be a
  doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear; and still more anxious to
  know how Edward would conduct himself.  For HIM she felt much
  compassion;--for Lucy very little--and it cost her some pains to
  procure that little;--for the rest of the party none at all.
  
  As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor soon saw the
  necessity of preparing Marianne for its discussion.  No time was to be
  lost in undeceiving her, in making her acquainted with the real truth,
  and in endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others,
  without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her sister, or any
  resentment against Edward.
  
  Elinor's office was a painful one.--She was going to remove what she
  really believed to be her sister's chief consolation,--to give such
  particulars of Edward as she feared would ruin him for ever in her good
  opinion,-and to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations,
  which to HER fancy would seem strong, feel all her own disappointment
  over again.  But unwelcome as such a task must be, it was necessary to
  be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it.
  
  She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own feelings, or to
  represent herself as suffering much, any otherwise than as the
  self-command she had practised since her first knowledge of Edward's
  engagement, might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne.
  Her narration was clear and simple; and though it could not be given
  without emotion, it was not accompanied by violent agitation, nor
  impetuous grief.--THAT belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne
  listened with horror, and cried excessively.  Elinor was to be the
  comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs; and
  all the comfort that could be given by assurances of her own composure
  of mind, and a very earnest vindication of Edward from every charge but
  of imprudence, was readily offered.
  
  But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither.  Edward seemed
  a second Willoughby; and acknowledging as Elinor did, that she HAD
  loved him most sincerely, could she feel less than herself!  As for
  Lucy Steele, she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutely
  incapable of attaching a sensible man, that she could not be persuaded
  at first to believe, and afterwards to pardon, any former affection of
  Edward for her.  She would not even admit it to have been natural; and
  Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that which only
  could convince her, a better knowledge of mankind.
  
  Her first communication had reached no farther than to state the fact
  of the engagement, and the length of time it had existed.--Marianne's
  feelings had then broken in, and put an end to all regularity of
  detail; and for some time all that could be done was to soothe her
  distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment.  The first
  question on her side, which led to farther particulars, was,--
  
  "How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has he written to you?"
  
  "I have known it these four months.  When Lucy first came to Barton
  Park last November, she told me in confidence of her engagement."
  
  At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her
  lips could not utter.  After a pause of wonder, she exclaimed--
  
  "Four months!--Have you known of this four months?"
  
  Elinor confirmed it.
  
  "What!--while attending me in all my misery, has this been on your
  heart?--And I have reproached you for being happy!"--
  
  "It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!"
  
  "Four months!"--cried Marianne again.--"So calm!--so cheerful!--how
  have you been supported?"--
  
  "By feeling that I was doing my duty.--My promise to Lucy, obliged me
  to be secret.  I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of
  the truth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in
  them a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to
  satisfy."
  
  Marianne seemed much struck.
  
  "I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother," added
  Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it;--but without betraying
  my trust, I never could have convinced you."
  
  "Four months!--and yet you loved him!"--
  
  "Yes. But I did not love only him;--and while the comfort of others was
  dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt.
  Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion.  I would not have
  you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer
  materially myself.  I have many things to support me.  I am not
  conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my
  own, I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther.
  I acquit Edward of essential misconduct.  I wish him very happy; and I
  am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now he may harbour
  some regret, in the end he must become so.  Lucy does not want sense,
  and that is the foundation on which every thing good may be built.--And
  after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a
  single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's
  happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not
  meant--it is not fit--it is not possible that it should be so.-- Edward
  will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superior in person and
  understanding to half her sex; and time and habit will teach him to
  forget that he ever thought another superior to HER."--
  
  "If such is your way of thinking," said Marianne, "if the loss of what
  is most valued is so easily to be made up by something else, your
  resolution, your self-command, are, perhaps, a little less to be
  wondered at.--They are brought more within my comprehension."
  
  "I understand you.--You do not suppose that I have ever felt much.--For
  four months, Marianne, I have had all this hanging on my mind, without
  being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it
  would make you and my mother most unhappy whenever it were explained to
  you, yet unable to prepare you for it in the least.-- It was told
  me,--it was in a manner forced on me by the very person herself, whose
  prior engagement ruined all my prospects; and told me, as I thought,
  with triumph.-- This person's suspicions, therefore, I have had to
  oppose, by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been most
  deeply interested;--and it has not been only once;--I have had her
  hopes and exultation to listen to again and again.-- I have known
  myself to be divided from Edward for ever, without hearing one
  circumstance that could make me less desire the connection.--Nothing
  has proved him unworthy; nor has anything declared him indifferent to
  me.-- I have had to contend against the unkindness of his sister, and
  the insolence of his mother; and have suffered the punishment of an
  attachment, without enjoying its advantages.-- And all this has been
  going on at a time, when, as you know too well, it has not been my only
  unhappiness.-- If you can think me capable of ever feeling--surely you
  may suppose that I have suffered NOW.  The composure of mind with which
  I have brought myself at present to consider the matter, the
  consolation that I have been willing to admit, have been the effect of
  constant and painful exertion;--they did not spring up of
  themselves;--they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first.-- No,
  Marianne.--THEN, if I had not been bound to silence, perhaps nothing
  could have kept me entirely--not even what I owed to my dearest
  friends--from openly shewing that I was VERY unhappy."--
  
  Marianne was quite subdued.--
  
  "Oh! Elinor," she cried, "you have made me hate myself for ever.--How
  barbarous have I been to you!--you, who have been my only comfort, who
  have borne with me in all my misery, who have seemed to be only
  suffering for me!--Is this my gratitude?--Is this the only return I can
  make you?--Because your merit cries out upon myself, I have been trying
  to do it away."
  
  The tenderest caresses followed this confession.  In such a frame of
  mind as she was now in, Elinor had no difficulty in obtaining from her
  whatever promise she required; and at her request, Marianne engaged
  never to speak of the affair to any one with the least appearance of
  bitterness;--to meet Lucy without betraying the smallest increase of
  dislike to her;--and even to see Edward himself, if chance should bring
  them together, without any diminution of her usual cordiality.-- These
  were great concessions;--but where Marianne felt that she had injured,
  no reparation could be too much for her to make.
  
  She performed her promise of being discreet, to admiration.--She
  attended to all that Mrs. Jennings had to say upon the subject, with an
  unchanging complexion, dissented from her in nothing, and was heard
  three times to say, "Yes, ma'am."--She listened to her praise of Lucy
  with only moving from one chair to another, and when Mrs. Jennings
  talked of Edward's affection, it cost her only a spasm in her
  throat.--Such advances towards heroism in her sister, made Elinor feel
  equal to any thing herself.
  
  The next morning brought a farther trial of it, in a visit from their
  brother, who came with a most serious aspect to talk over the dreadful
  affair, and bring them news of his wife.
  
  "You have heard, I suppose," said he with great solemnity, as soon as
  he was seated, "of the very shocking discovery that took place under
  our roof yesterday."
  
  They all looked their assent; it seemed too awful a moment for speech.
  
  "Your sister," he continued, "has suffered dreadfully.  Mrs. Ferrars
  too--in short it has been a scene of such complicated distress--but I
  will hope that the storm may be weathered without our being any of us
  quite overcome.  Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday.  But I
  would not alarm you too much.  Donavan says there is nothing materially
  to be apprehended; her constitution is a good one, and her resolution
  equal to any thing.  She has borne it all, with the fortitude of an
  angel!  She says she never shall think well of anybody again; and one
  cannot wonder at it, after being so deceived!--meeting with such
  ingratitude, where so much kindness had been shewn, so much confidence
  had been placed!  It was quite out of the benevolence of her heart,
  that she had asked these young women to her house; merely because she
  thought they deserved some attention, were harmless, well-behaved
  girls, and would be pleasant companions; for otherwise we both wished
  very much to have invited you and Marianne to be with us, while your
  kind friend there, was attending her daughter.  And now to be so
  rewarded!  'I wish, with all my heart,' says poor Fanny in her
  affectionate way, 'that we had asked your sisters instead of them.'"
  
  Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done, he went on.
  
  "What poor Mrs. Ferrars suffered, when first Fanny broke it to her, is
  not to be described.  While she with the truest affection had been
  planning a most eligible connection for him, was it to be supposed that
  he could be all the time secretly engaged to another person!--such a
  suspicion could never have entered her head!  If she suspected ANY
  prepossession elsewhere, it could not be in THAT quarter.  'THERE, to
  be sure,' said she, 'I might have thought myself safe.' She was quite
  in an agony.  We consulted together, however, as to what should be
  done, and at last she determined to send for Edward.  He came.  But I
  am sorry to relate what ensued.  All that Mrs. Ferrars could say to
  make him put an end to the engagement, assisted too as you may well
  suppose by my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties, was of no avail.
  Duty, affection, every thing was disregarded.  I never thought Edward
  so stubborn, so unfeeling before.  His mother explained to him her
  liberal designs, in case of his marrying Miss Morton; told him she
  would settle on him the Norfolk estate, which, clear of land-tax,
  brings in a good thousand a-year; offered even, when matters grew
  desperate, to make it twelve hundred; and in opposition to this, if he
  still persisted in this low connection, represented to him the certain
  penury that must attend the match.  His own two thousand pounds she
  protested should be his all; she would never see him again; and so far
  would she be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if he
  were to enter into any profession with a view of better support, she
  would do all in her power to prevent him advancing in it."
  
  Here Marianne, in an ecstasy of indignation, clapped her hands
  together, and cried, "Gracious God!  can this be possible!"
  
  "Well may you wonder, Marianne," replied her brother, "at the obstinacy
  which could resist such arguments as these.  Your exclamation is very
  natural."
  
  Marianne was going to retort, but she remembered her promises, and
  forbore.
  
  "All this, however," he continued, "was urged in vain.  Edward said
  very little; but what he did say, was in the most determined manner.
  Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement.  He would
  stand to it, cost him what it might."
  
  "Then," cried Mrs. Jennings with blunt sincerity, no longer able to be
  silent, "he has acted like an honest man! I beg your pardon, Mr.
  Dashwood, but if he had done otherwise, I should have thought him a
  rascal.  I have some little concern in the business, as well as
  yourself, for Lucy Steele is my cousin, and I believe there is not a
  better kind of girl in the world, nor one who more deserves a good
  husband."
  
  John Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his nature was calm, not open
  to provocation, and he never wished to offend anybody, especially
  anybody of good fortune.  He therefore replied, without any resentment,
  
  "I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any relation of yours,
  madam.  Miss Lucy Steele is, I dare say, a very deserving young woman,
  but in the present case you know, the connection must be impossible.
  And to have entered into a secret engagement with a young man under her
  uncle's care, the son of a woman especially of such very large fortune
  as Mrs. Ferrars, is perhaps, altogether a little extraordinary. In
  short, I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any person whom
  you have a regard for, Mrs. Jennings.  We all wish her extremely happy;
  and Mrs. Ferrars's conduct throughout the whole, has been such as every
  conscientious, good mother, in like circumstances, would adopt.  It has
  been dignified and liberal.  Edward has drawn his own lot, and I fear
  it will be a bad one."
  
  Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension; and Elinor's heart wrung
  for the feelings of Edward, while braving his mother's threats, for a
  woman who could not reward him.
  
  "Well, sir," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did it end?"
  
  "I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy rupture:-- Edward is
  dismissed for ever from his mother's notice.  He left her house
  yesterday, but where he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do
  not know; for WE of course can make no inquiry."
  
  "Poor young man!--and what is to become of him?"
  
  "What, indeed, ma'am!  It is a melancholy consideration.  Born to the
  prospect of such affluence!  I cannot conceive a situation more
  deplorable.  The interest of two thousand pounds--how can a man live on
  it?--and when to that is added the recollection, that he might, but for
  his own folly, within three months have been in the receipt of two
  thousand, five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton has thirty thousand
  pounds,) I cannot picture to myself a more wretched condition.  We must
  all feel for him; and the more so, because it is totally out of our
  power to assist him."
  
  "Poor young man!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure he should be very
  welcome to bed and board at my house; and so I would tell him if I
  could see him.  It is not fit that he should be living about at his own
  charge now, at lodgings and taverns."
  
  Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward, though she
  could not forbear smiling at the form of it.
  
  "If he would only have done as well by himself," said John Dashwood,
  "as all his friends were disposed to do by him, he might now have been
  in his proper situation, and would have wanted for nothing.  But as it
  is, it must be out of anybody's power to assist him.  And there is one
  thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all--his
  mother has determined, with a very natural kind of spirit, to settle
  THAT estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward's, on
  proper conditions.  I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking
  over the business."
  
  "Well!" said Mrs. Jennings, "that is HER revenge.  Everybody has a way
  of their own.  But I don't think mine would be, to make one son
  independent, because another had plagued me."
  
  Marianne got up and walked about the room.
  
  "Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man," continued John,
  "than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might
  have been his own?  Poor Edward!  I feel for him sincerely."
  
  A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion, concluded his
  visit; and with repeated assurances to his sisters that he really
  believed there was no material danger in Fanny's indisposition, and
  that they need not therefore be very uneasy about it, he went away;
  leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sentiments on the present
  occasion, as far at least as it regarded Mrs. Ferrars's conduct, the
  Dashwoods', and Edward's.
  
  Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he quitted the room; and
  as her vehemence made reserve impossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in
  Mrs. Jennings, they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the
  party.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 37
target: While visiting her daughter Charlotte, Mrs. Jennings learned from Doctor Donovan that he had just left Mrs. John Dashwood, who was suffering from hysterics. Anne Steele had innocently revealed the news of Lucy Steele's engagement to Edward, and Fanny, aghast, had ordered Lucy out of her house. Elinor realized that she must tell Marianne about the whole affair before Marianne heard it from Mrs. Jennings. Her sister was heartbroken." What!" she said. "While attending me in all my misery, has this been on your heart?" Elinor, taking advantage of her sister's recriminations, made Marianne promise to show discretion when hearing or talking about the affair. On the following day, the sisters again heard the story, this time from John Dashwood. He told them that Fanny had told her mother about the engagement, and Mrs. Ferrars had sent for Edward, who refused to break it. He left the house in spite of his mother's declaration that she would disinherit him. Mrs. Ferrars' latest plan was to give Edward's inheritance to his brother Robert, immediately.
feat_summary_analysis: Mrs. Jennings continues to reveal herself as the kindly and sensible creature she is. Her tactless curiosity and gossip began by offending Elinor and Marianne, but the sisters have by now learned that she has a big heart, which is what really matters. She energetically sides with Lucy against the wealth and family connections of the Dashwoods and the Ferrarses. "I declare I have no patience with your sister," she says, indignant because Fanny Dashwood has thrown Lucy out of her house, "and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her. . . . I have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and greatness." Ironically, her simple heart can see no contrivance in the devious Lucy.