Original subtitles

Come in.

Elinor.

You will think it most extraordinary conduct on my part

to visit you like this unaccompanied.

But I have a piece of news of such particular importance to yourself

that I hope you will forgive me.

But of course. Anything that brings...

Please, I will keep my visit as brief as possible.

In short, I have just seen Colonel Brandon,

who is so incensed by your mother's treatment of you

that he wishes me to convey his desire that you should accept the living of Delaford.

Colonel Brandon offers... me a living?

- But why? - For the reason I have just given.

He is a good-hearted man and, like the rest of us,

greatly distressed to hear of your disinheritance.

Oh. Now I see it.

This is your doing. You know you are too good to me.

- No, no, you are quite mistaken. - Elinor...

I do assure you you owe it entirely to your own merit.

I have not said one word upon the subject and am to act merely as... go-between.

I was charged particularly to tell you

that though the living is not a rich one, it is sufficient together with a house...

to make your marriage a possibility.

The colonel wished me to make that point perfectly clear.

I see. Thank you.

Now, having discharged my obligation, if you would excuse me.

- Oh, don't go. - I wish you every happiness for the future.

Yourself and, of course, Miss Steele.

If you are so bent upon leaving, when... may I hope to see you again?

The likelihood of our meeting again - at any rate, in the near future -

is not very great.

We leave London, all of us, tomorrow.

We are to spend one night at the Palmers' house, Cleveland, on the way down,

and then the next day Marianne and I go alone to Barton Cottage.

- Barton Cottage. - Goodbye, Edward.

- Elinor, I must say something. - Please!

You know, don't you, what my feelings really are?

Don't say any more. I said goodbye, Edward.

Oh. Oh, what a journey. (Chuckles)

Oh, well. Only ten more miles.

I warrant you girls will be as glad to get out and stretch your legs as I shall.

- (Sneezes) - Oh!

Bless you.

I have no doubt Charlotte is this moment running back and forth,

ordering this and that for our arrival.

I only hope her excitement will not interfere

with the supply of nourishment for the babe.

- (Sneezes) - Oh!

There. (Laughs) Oh, there it is!

Oh, doesn't it look splendid?

Oh, girls! Girls!

After I'd given him his feed he slept from Marlborough almost as far as Bath.

Oh, he's a good boy. Isn't he a good boy?

- He's a fine, strong, manly boy. - (Baby cries)

- Shall I take him, Mama? - Oh, indeed, sir.

He's perfectly happy with me, ain't you? # Ain't you ain't, sir? #

- Marianne. - Very well.

Mrs. Jennings, if you don't mind, I think we'll go upstairs.

- Yes, certainly, dear. - Oh! Mama!

- Somebody help me. She's fainted. - Oh!

Oh! Oh.

There.

I knew she was unwell in the carriage.

Did I not say that she was unwell?

Oh, she's contracted some horrible disease on the journey, I know it!

Nurse! Nurse!

- She has a high fever. - Oh, Mrs. Jennings, what can we do?

Send for a physician, my dear, as quickly as possible.

I'm afraid there can be no question of your sister continuing her journey

until the fever has fully abated - none whatever.

How long might that be?

Well, that's very hard to say, very hard to say.

The crisis may not be reached

- for another 48 hours at least. - Crisis?

Yes, there's always a point of crisis in these fever cases.

A putrid infection, my dear.

Oh, it's a purely medical term, I assure you.

- An infection? - Yes, dear.

- Then I must take him away immediately. - Yes, I fear the worst.

Mr. Palmer's sister will have to take us in, however inconvenient.

Oh, the poor little fellow. I must get him out of the house immediately.

- Nurse! Nurse! - Shh. Quietly, child.

Well, I'll send up a bottle of physic.

You give her a draught every four hours, night and day.

No heating foods, plenty of liquids. I'll see her again tomorrow.

Thank you, Doctor.

Oh, thank you. That one, only, need go upstairs.

Oh, Colonel, thank goodness you've come.

(Weeps)

- I thought for a moment you'd be too late. - Too late? What's happened?

Poor Marianne. Oh... Of course, I knew.

I knew as soon as we left Marlborough that she was unwell

- but I thought perhaps it was the motion. - Miss Marianne?

I've never in my life been so glad to get to the end of a journey in all my days. Never.

Am I to understand that Miss Marianne is ill?

Ill? My dear Colonel, she could scarce walk through that door, she was so weak.

And if I had not been in time to support her

she would have fallen, senseless, to the ground.

Good God, this is terrible. Poor child.

A putrid infection, the doctor says. Over her whole body.

Never in the whole of his experience has he known of anything so rapid. Never.

The next 48 hours should tell the end of it one way or the other, that's what he says.

This is deeply distressing, deeply distressing.

Perhaps I should not encumber you with my presence here.

- No, don't leave me, I entreat you. - Oh, but...

I need the presence of another calm, clear head such as yours.

Oh, Colonel, just think.

That poor child upstairs -

only this morning, laughing and joking, as merry as ever. And now...

(Mutters)

Marianne...

You should read Cowper.

What is it? What do you want?

Nobody... can claim to have a properly informed mind

who's not... read Cowper.

You must go to sleep, Marianne.

But she must not go round... by London.

I shall... never see her again if she goes to London!

Oh, Mrs. Jennings, thank goodness you've come.

- Was there no letter, Mama? - Oh... poor thing, she's wandering.

- She's dreadfully flushed. - Was there no letter?

There, there.

He promised he would write. He promised.

- He will, Marianne. Now go to sleep. - I know... he will not.

He will not. He will... not.

I think we'd better send for your mother. The colonel will go, I'm sure of it.

- If he were to leave now, tonight... - What do you...

...she could be with us by this time tomorrow, I'm sure of it.

- I'll go and find him at once. - Thank you, Mrs. Jennings.

My coat, man, my traveling coat.

No, there's no time for that. Give it to me.

(Distant) On the road with you and drive like the devil.

(Wind howling outside)

Goodness. Is it eight o'clock already?

I'm a trifle early.

How has she been?

Peaceful. Quite peaceful.

Mrs. Jennings, I hardly dare say it

but I really begin to feel now she may get better.

Elinor, my child, did you manage to get any sleep?

Yes. Don't worry about me.

To think that in two hours' time Mother and Colonel Brandon may be here.

If only this dreadful weather doesn't delay them.

Now promise me you'll call me, mind, the moment the carriage arrives.

- But you may be asleep. - Never mind.

- Promise. - Very well. I promise.

Mrs. Jennings.

Oh... dear Mrs. Jennings.

- I hardly know how to thank you. - Oh, fiddlesticks, fiddlesticks.

I fear that at times one or other of us have treated you with rather less respect

- than is your due. - Nonsense, my dear. Nonsense.

There's nothing I enjoy more than the company of young people.

And you and your sister could not have treated me

with greater sweetness and civility if you had been my own daughters.

It's very generous of you to say so, madam.

Call me, mind, the moment the carriage arrives.

I will, I... promise.

(Whispers) The carriage has arrived.

- Willoughby. - Bear with me for five minutes.

- No, sir. - But I've driven all the way from London.

- From London? - Marianne...

I learned just now from the servant who let me in that she is a little better.

But is it true? Was it really true?

Oh, for God's sake tell me. I mean, is she out of danger or is she not?

Yes, we hope now that she is.

Then God be praised.

If I'd known as much a while back...

But since I'm here, can I ask you just to spare me a few moments?

Miss Dashwood.

Very well.

- You had better sit, had you not? - Oh, no thank you.

Then I will.

(Clears throat)

When I first became intimate with your family...

in those happy, far-off days, I confess that I had no other object

than to pass my time in Devonshire as agreeably as possible.

Your sister's lovely person and interesting manners could not but please me

though, to be honest, I had at first no serious design

in returning her evident affection.

Mr. Willoughby, it is hardly worthwhile your telling me all this.

Please do not pain me further in this manner.

No, please, I-I insist on you hearing the whole of it.

Please.

Now, this was at the very beginning.

But very soon, even I... profligate though I was, and am...

found my heart truly moved by your sister's sweetness.

Then you did, at one time, genuinely believe yourself attracted to her?

Is there a man on earth who could have resisted her?

Certainly not I, Miss Dashwood.

No, the happiest hours of my life were those that I spent with her...

when I still considered my intentions honorable and my feelings blameless.

Oh, I had determined to engage her alone, too,

to justify the attentions I had so invariably paid her.

But you didn't.

Alas, to what depths one can go in self-deception.

It was about this time, you see, that certain matters became public.

Certain matters, you understand, resulting from a previous youthful indiscretion.

- Do I make myself clear? - You do.

Though how you have the effrontery to speak of such matters

is almost beyond my comprehension.

Because I must be absolutely frank with you!

But if you think for one moment that I feel no shame,

then I can assure you that you are quite wrong.

Go on.

Oh, God, that awful day when I had to tell your sister

that I must return at once to London will ever remain etched in my mind.

Your mother, as I remember, rubbed salt in the wound

by her kindness in asking me to come back.

But the situation was, by then, such that there was no possibility of returning.

Imagine my state of mind on that long trip back to London.

Your sister's affections destroyed, my inheritance gone

and all my affairs completely in ruins.

Your situation was truly deplorable, Mr. Willoughby,

but hardly so desperate as that of the poor creature

whose life you had so thoughtlessly ruined.

Miss Dashwood, my conduct was extremely wrong, I'll admit.

But in these matters, you know, the fault is very seldom solely on the one side.

You will do little to improve your case, sir...

by trying to share the blame, however justly, with a poor young woman

whose sufferings must be so immeasurably greater than your own.

This is not... worthy of you.

Strong words, Miss Dashwood.

But well merited, I fear.

And is this all?

No.

Indeed it is not all.

I have not confessed the worst of it yet.

For, having reached the very depths,

I decided that the only way of recovering my lost fortune...

was through marriage.

Yes, I see the look upon your face.

Well, if it is of any comfort to you, Miss Dashwood...

I have been amply repaid for my pains.

Amply. Now, does that bring you any satisfaction?

No, sir, it does not.

And then to come face-to-face with your sister like that...

as beautiful as an angel...

holding her hand out to me and asking me for an explanation...

with those bewitching eyes looking up into mine.

And Sophia on the other side, as jealous as the very devil.

God, what a contemptible figure I cut.

That was the last look I ever had of Marianne.

And yet... when I thought of her today...

as really dying...

it was a kind of comfort to me to imagine that...

I knew exactly how she would appear to those who saw her last in this world.

She was ever there in my mind...

before me, as I traveled.

And the letter, sir. How, pray, do you explain that?

The letter?

Oh, y... Oh, yes, the letter.

Do you not admire my wife's style of composition?

- Your wife's? - Delicate, tender, truly feminine, is it not?

But the hand was yours.

Written at her dictation, I'm ashamed to say.

You are very wrong, sir, to speak of Mrs. Willoughby in this way.

You had a choice. It was not forced upon you.

Your wife has a claim to your politeness, at least,

whatever her merits may or may not be.

And to speak of her so slightingly is no great atonement to poor Marianne.

Once again, you're right. I stand rebuked.

You are very harsh, are you not, in your moral judgments?

Well, goodbye, Miss Dashwood. I thank you for bearing with me for so long.

You are not driving straight back to London?

Oh, yes. Tell Mari...

Tell your sister from me...

that she has never been dearer or more precious to me

than she is at this very moment.

I will.

Thank you.

Goodbye, Miss Dashwood.

- God bless you. - Goodbye.

Is that Elinor?

Marianne.

Could I have a drink of water, please?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Oh, Marianne, I really believe you are better.

Better. Much better.

- Oh, Mama! - Is she?

- Yes! Yes, she's much improved. - Oh, thank God!

Thank God.

Colonel Brandon, I hardly know how to thank you.

Your sister's recovery is sufficient reward, Miss Dashwood.

I truly believe this last hour has been the worst of my life.

Come. We must leave them.

I only trust the joy of this reunion will not prove too great a strain

for your sister, Miss Dashwood. Do you think perhaps...

(Sobs)

I'm sorry. How foolish.

It's the relief. All these dreadful days I've remained dry-eyed and now...

- She's so dear, so very, very dear to me. - That I can well believe.

What a joy it is to be able to read poetry again.

See how strong I'm growing, Elinor.

Already I can enjoy a little light Cowper.

Very soon I shall be able to digest even Pope and Dryden.

Marianne.

Now that you are so much stronger,

I feel I should tell you something.

Whilst you were at the height of your fever I received a visit from...

- From him? - Yes.

Elinor... I hope you didn't speak to him.

I hope you turned him from the door.

I had a mind to. But, Marianne, his distress was so genuine

and his concern for you so deep that I could not.

- So... - He did love you, and indeed still does.

But his dread of poverty was such that he married a rich wife

- and now he is suffering for it. - Suffering.

Oh, he has acted abominably, I know.

He knows it himself and freely admits as much.

But, Marianne, there is something good in him.

Must be, that he should... feel and speak the way he did.

I'm sorry. I should not have told you.

But I had hoped that the wound had healed.

Oh, I feel nothing... I can assure you.

Nothing at all.

I'm afraid that is not true, sister.

No.

But I intend to put behind me all the foolish affections of the heart.

It's my resolve that nobody shall ever hurt me again.

From now on, I shall devote my life entirely to the pursuits of the mind.

Is that quite understood, sister?

Yes, of course, sister. Perfectly.

May I be permitted to ask after the invalid this morning, madam?

I trust she passed a good night.

Oh, yes, she's gaining strength daily, Colonel.

She needs but a little fresh air and congenial company

to be quite herself again.

You think so? You really think so? I'm delighted to hear it.

But visit her and see for yourself. Why not?

- Me, ma'am? - Yes. Why not?

But I hardly feel she'd be likely to welcome a visit from someone of my...

Of course she would. You're too modest.

She's just pining for a little intelligent conversation.

- Oh, but Madam, I feel... - Give her just a few moments.

Oh, she will be so pleased.

Very well, ma'am.

He's a thoroughly estimable man, I grant you.

But, Mama, what can we possibly talk about?

Apart from thanking him for bringing you here.

His interests and mine are totally unalike in every particular.

Nonsense, my love. The colonel is much better informed than you think.

- He's just shy, that's all. - I know just what will happen.

He'll sit there looking so wretched

that I shall have to exhaust myself in my efforts to keep the conversation going,

simply out of pity for him.

(Chuckles) There. Are you quite comfortable?

Oh, very well, Mama. If you insist.

- May I have my mirror, please? - A mirror, my love?

Of course.

Oh. Gracious heavens, what a sight.

You look very well, my dear. A little pale, that's all. That color suits you.

Please don't leave us together too long, Mama. That's all I beg.

- Very well. If you don't wish it. - (Knock on door)

- Ah. - Promise.

Ah, Colonel, come in. Come in. You're her first visitor.

I feel myself greatly honored, ma'am.

- You don't think it will be too much? - No, no, no.

Assuredly not. It'll do her good.

I promise I'll not stay long enough to fatigue her.

Marianne. Colonel Brandon.

Colonel Brandon, I must thank you for your great kindness

in going to fetch my mother when you did.

I'm sure we all feel greatly indebted to you, don't we, Mama?

- Please, Miss Marianne... - Yes, of course. We do indeed.

Well, now, I have some sewing to do downstairs.

So I'll leave you two to have your little talk together, shall I?

- Please don't let me drive you away. - Oh, no. Please, Mama.

I'm sure poor Colonel Brandon

cannot possibly wish to remain indoors on such a fine day.

Indeed, it will be no great hardship, I can assure you.

- Goodbye, then. - Goodbye, ma'am.

Goodbye, Mama.

Are you familiar with this part of the countryside, Colonel Brandon?

Oh, yes. Yes.

Tolerably.

(Sighs)

Ah, there you are.

At last we are alone, my love.

I have scarcely had the opportunity to say a word to you since I came.

Oh, Elinor, I'm so happy.

I know he loves her.

- Who, Mama, loves whom? - Why, Colonel Brandon.

He told me so himself.

Well, not in so many words.

But he opened his whole heart to me as we traveled.

Oh. Colonel Brandon loves Marianne, you mean.

Oh, Elinor, you were never like me or I should wonder at your composure.

It came out quite unawares, without design.

He just could not conceal his distress.

And I suppose thinking that mere friendship

would not justify such strong feelings

made me acquainted with his... tender, constant affection for her.

He has loved her, Elinor,

ever since the first moment of seeing her.

Indeed, Mama?

I'm sure his regard for her far surpasses anything that Willoughby ever felt.

- Or professed to feel. - Oh.

Such a noble mind, such... openness, such sincerity.

- Nobody can be deceived in him. - Do you really think so, Mama?

I am quite sure of it, my love. I'm convinced of it.

Oh, Mama.

But that's extraordinary.

I must make it my business to read it again after what you say.

But I feel I should warn you that he uses, well, certain words and phrases

that might be offensive to a young lady.

I hope you will not condemn me for my recommendation.

Colonel Brandon, you do me a grave injustice.

Strong or vigorous language will never offend me

where its use is truly poetic

and for the... the purpose of heightening the picturesque.

Whereas the same phrase in the mouth of someone of low intelligence

and no sensibility might well be utterly abhorrent.

My sentiments exactly, and admirably phrased.

Well, now, my darling, you mustn't get overtired.

- I beg your pardon, ma'am. - Oh, no, no, no. Sit down. Sit down.

Wait a minute. John Donne, Andrew Marvell...

and, of course, Edmund Spenser.

Well, I confess this is all quite a revelation to me, Colonel Brandon.

You have made me see that up to this moment

my taste has been built on far too narrow a foundation.

I was about to observe that you had done exactly the same for myself.

I have to admit that "Cow-per" has hitherto been almost unknown to me.

- "Coo-per" - Oh, "Coo-per".

Marianne, it really is time you were back in bed.

Yes, I must be going. I fear I have fatigued her with my thoughtless chatter.

I'm not in the least fatigued, thank you.

Come and see her again, Colonel, if you'd be so kind.

- Tomorrow morning, before we leave. - Oh, thank you, ma'am, I'd like to.

And thank you for a most enjoyable conversation.

Oh, I hope we may continue it when you come to Barton, Colonel Brandon.

Come along now. Back to bed.

You've been up and about quite long enough.

There's a well-stocked library in Barton Park

that nobody ever uses, is there not, Mama?

Yes, I believe so.

Now wrap yourself up warmly, my darling.

We don't want you catching cold again.

If Sir John will give me permission,

I intend to use the period of my convalescence

for the furtherance of my knowledge and understanding.

But why do you look at me like that, Mama? Is that so strange?

No more now.

Don't forget we have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.

Oh, Mrs. Jennings, you've been so good and so kind to me.

Take great care of yourself.

- Yes. - Oh, I shall miss you.

Oh, Mrs. Jennings, I can never thank you enough for all that you've done.

- Ever. You know that. - Nonsense.

We have had some jolly times together, have we not?

- Oh... - Don't fuss, Mama.

Goodbye, Colonel Brandon. We'll be seeing you very soon, I'm sure.

Yes. Goodbye, Miss Dashwood.

Goodbye.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

- Goodbye! - (Distant) Goodbye.

Happy journey!

- Oh, such dear, sweet girls, eh, Colonel? - (Carriage drives off)

I scarce know how I shall endure without them.

And with you gone, too, I shall be hard put to it for lively conversation.

You're too kind, ma'am.

I must confess to you privately, Colonel...

that I do, above all things in this life,

value the company of lively and entertaining young people.

I think the prospect of being deprived of it for any length of time...

would assuredly...

Strange fellow.

(Chuckles)

Well... Charlotte will be back tomorrow.

With the babe.

The house will soon be full again.

When the weather is better and I have recovered my strength...

we'll go for long walks together.

Yes, yes, of course.

We'll go to the farm at the edge of the down...

and see how the children are.

And try and trace the foundations of the priory.

Yes.

I know the summer will pass happily away.

I mean never to be later in rising than six.

And from that time until dinner I shall divide every moment

between music and reading.

I've determined to enter upon a course of serious study.

And those books which I cannot find at Barton Park

Colonel Brandon, I'm sure, will supply.

Are you familiar with the works of Spenser, sister?

Spenser? I thought you found him too coarse.

Oh! No, no, no, no. You misunderstand me.

Spenser, Donne, Marvell...

I mean to make myself thoroughly conversant with all their works.

And as for music...

(Begins to play)

(Stops)

I cannot play. My fingers are too stiff.

Marianne... the hurt is still there a little, is it not?

Everything... everything in this room reminds me so acutely of him.

I feared that this homecoming would be painful to you.

No, Elinor, you are wrong.

I do not intend to speak of what my feelings once were

but of what they are now.

I have truly done with regret.

That's all over.

Or it would be... if I could feel he was not always acting a part

when he spoke to me as he did, not always deceiving me.

I am convinced that he was not, sister.

And had you seen him as I did, you would no longer doubt it.

(Sighs)

Then my mind is at rest.

I had looked forward to this homecoming... with dread on that account.

But by facing these familiar objects, with all their memories...

I feel I am finally exorcising his spirit from my mind.

Oh, Marianne, you don't know how happy you make me.

There now, young ladies.

I expect that's what you're wanting.

Oh yes, Mary. Thank you.

Now, let me see.

What's new since you went away?

- Oh. You've heard about poor Mr. Petty? - No.

- Oh, dear, he's gone. - Oh...

Still, that was only to be expected, poor soul, wasn't it?

But who'd have thought that Betty Weaver's Margaret

would have gone off with that young Will... whatsisname?

Still, that was some time ago, wasn't it?

Oh! I knew there was something.

You've heard that Mr. Ferrars is married?

- What? - Oh, yes.

'Twas Thomas brought the news, look, from Exeter this morning.

How did he discover this, Mary?

Oh, he came face-to-face with her - Miss Lucy that was -

and she told him how she and Mr. Ferrars

was married not a week since.

But, dear, I made sure you'd have known.

If you would excuse me.

Thank you, Mary. That'll do.

Thomas was most particular that Miss Lucy said she was anxious

that Miss Elinor should be told. Most particular.

I said thank you, Mary.

Oh. Very well, ma'am.

Just as you wish.

Poor Elinor. If only I could lessen the hurt.

Only time can do that.

As it did in your own case.

When do you expect the colonel this morning?

He should be here at any moment now.

(Plays)

Mr. Edward Ferrars, ma'am.

Edward! I had no notion you...

I was in Devonshire, ma'am, on a family... matter

and I could not pass so close to Barton without...

Marianne, the sun is so bright this morning,

I thought that you and the colonel should go in the garden.

Elinor.

Edward was passing through the neighborhood, my love,

and he was kind enough to make it his business to call.

I'm very glad indeed that you did.

- And is Mrs. Ferrars with you? - No.

No, my... mother is still in London.

I did not mean your mother, sir. I meant Mrs. Edward Ferrars.

Why, I presume you mean Mrs. Robert. Lucy.

- Mrs. Robert? - You mean...

Lucy and my brother Robert were married last week in Exeter.

Lucy and Robert?

Well, did you not know?

Well, that is the reason for my... being in the neighborhood.

That and the hope that afterwards I might have the pleasure

of seeing Barton once again.

Lucy... and Robert.

I can still scarcely believe it.

I did not realize that you were unaware of the...

changes that have recently taken place in our family.

Whatever your news is, Edward, you are always welcome here.

I am sure that you and Edward would be happier in the garden.

Oh, yes, Mama. Edward, would you care to come out into the sunshine?

I should like nothing in the world better.

Lucy and Robert!

Mama, is that not wonderful?

How richly each deserves the other.

Who says now there's no such thing as poetic justice, eh?

Marianne, that is the first unkind thing I've heard you say for weeks.

- I'm sure, my love, you are fully recovered. - I am, Mama.

(Colonel Brandon outside) Mary, I'll show myself in.

I shall have to occupy myself upstairs for the remainder of the morning.

Why?

- Good morning, Colonel. - Good morning, ma'am.

I think I managed to execute all your commissions, Miss Marianne.

Rasselas, Prince Of Abyssinia, The Mysteries Of Udolpho,

Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire, volumes two and three.

We've had an unexpected visitor.

Oh, Elinor...

I have longed for this moment from the instant of our first meeting.

Dear, dear Elinor.

Would you...

Could you... possibly?

- No, Edward. No. - But... why?

Well, the gravel is much too damp. We had a shower early this morning.

There. If you must be so foolish, take that.

(Laughs) Oh, prudent, practical Elinor.

How could anyone fail to love you?

Miss Marianne...

Dear Miss Marianne.

Yes, Colonel Brandon.

(Elinor) Marianne? Mama?

- Did you call me, Elinor? - Mama, we are engaged to be married.

Oh... my precious!

- And, Mama... - Congratulations, Elinor.

- Thank you, Colonel. - And to you, Edward.

- And to you. - Oh, Marianne!

Congratulations!