Джейн Остин – Sense and Sensibility / Чувство и чувствительность. Уровень 3 (страница 3)

Sir John did not leave the house without their promise of dining at the park the next day.

Chapter VII

Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. The house was large and handsome; and the Middletons lived in a style of equal hospitality and elegance. They were scarcely ever without some friends staying with them in the house. It was necessary to the happiness of both. Sir John was a sportsman, Lady Middleton was a mother. He hunted and shot, and she humoured her children; and these were their only resources. Continual engagements supplied all the deficiencies of nature and education; supported the good spirits of Sir John and his wife.

The arrival of a new family in the neighborhood was always a joy to Sir John. The young Dashwoods were really young, pretty, and unaffected. It was enough to secure his good opinion. He was happy to accommodate those, whose situation looked as unfortunate. In showing kindness to his cousins therefore he had the real satisfaction of a good heart.

Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters were met at the door of the house by Sir John, who welcomed them to Barton Park with unaffected sincerity. He was sorry to be unable to get any smart young men to meet them. They will see only one gentleman there besides himself; a particular friend who is staying at the park, but who is not very young. He hoped they will all excuse the smallness of the party, and assured them it will never happen so again. Luckily Lady Middleton’s mother arrived at Barton within the last hour, and she was a very cheerful agreeable woman. The young ladies, as well as their mother, wished for no more.

Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton’s mother, was a good-humoured, merry, fat, elderly woman, who talked a lot, seemed very happy, and rather vulgar. She was full of jokes about lovers and laughter. Marianne turned her eyes towards Elinor to see how she bore these Mrs. Jennings’s attacks with an earnestness which embarrassed her far more than Mrs. Jennings could.

Colonel Brandon, Mr. John’s friend, was silent and grave. His appearance however was not unpleasing. Marianne and Margaret decided that he was an absolute old bachelor, for he was thirty-five. Though his face was not handsome, his countenance was sensible.

In the evening, as Marianne was discovered to be musical, she was invited to play. The instrument was unlocked, everybody prepared to be charmed, and Marianne sang very well, too.

Marianne’s performance was highly applauded. Sir John was loud in his admiration at the end of every song. Colonel Brandon alone, of all the party, heard her without raptures. He paid her only the compliment of attention; and she felt a respect for him.

Chapter VIII

Mrs. Jennings was a widow. She had only two daughters, both of whom were respectably married, and she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the world. In the promotion of this object she was zealously active. She was remarkably quick in the discovery of attachments. It enabled her soon after her arrival at Barton to pronounce that Colonel Brandon was very much in love with Marianne Dashwood. It must be so. She was perfectly convinced of it. It will be an excellent match, for he is rich, and she is handsome. Mrs. Jennings was anxious to see Colonel Brandon well married since she met him.

This idea supplied her with endless jokes against them both. At the park she laughed at the colonel, and in the cottage at Marianne, who hardly knew whether to laugh, or to censure it.

Mrs. Dashwood, who did not think a man five years younger than herself, ventured to clear Mrs. Jennings from the probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age.

“But at least, Mama, you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation, though you may not think it intentionally ill-natured. Colonel Brandon is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he is old enough to be my father. It is ridiculous! And I suspect infirmity.”

“Infirmity!” said Elinor, “do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can easily suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than to my mother; but he uses his limbs very well!”

“Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? Is not that the sign of infirmity?”

“My dearest child,” said her mother, laughing, “at this rate you must be in continual terror of my death. It must seem to you a miracle that my life has been extended to the age of forty.”

“Mama, I know very well that Colonel Brandon is not old enough to die. He may live twenty years longer. But thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony.”

“Perhaps,” said Elinor, “thirty-five and seventeen have nothing to do with matrimony together. But if there is a woman who is single at seven and twenty, Colonel Brandon can marry her for sure.”

“A woman of seven and twenty,” said Marianne, after pausing a moment, “can never hope to feel or inspire affection. In my eyes it will be no marriage at all, to me it will seem only a commercial exchange[5].”

“It is impossible, I know,” replied Elinor, “to convince you that a woman of seven and twenty can feel something for a man of thirty-five. But I must object to your dooming Colonel Brandon and his wife to the hospital, merely because he complained yesterday (a very cold damp day) of a slight rheumatic feel in one of his shoulders.”

Soon after this, upon Elinor’s leaving the room, “Mama,” said Marianne, “I have an alarm on the subject of illness which I cannot conceal from you. I am sure Edward Ferrars is not well. We have now been here almost a fortnight, and yet he does not come. He is ill. What else can detain him at Norland?”

“Had you any idea of his coming so soon?” said Mrs. Dashwood. “I had none. On the contrary, he did not show pleasure or readiness in accepting my invitation, when I talked of his coming to Barton. Does Elinor expect him already?”

“I have never mentioned it to her, but of course she must.”

“I think you are mistaken. Yesterday I offered her to get a new grate for the spare bedchamber, and she observed that there was no immediate hurry for it. It is not likely that the room will be wanted for some time.”

“How strange this is! What can be the meaning of it! How cold, how composed were their last adieus! How languid their conversation the last evening! In Edward’s farewell there was no distinction between Elinor and me: it was the good wishes of an affectionate brother to both. Twice I left them purposely together, and each time he followed me out of the room. And Elinor, quitting Norland and Edward, did not cry as I did. Even now her self-command is invariable. Where is her melancholy? When does she try to avoid society, or appear restless and dissatisfied in it?”

Chapter IX

The Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with tolerable comfort to themselves. The house and the garden, with all the objects surrounding them, now became familiar. Sir John Middleton could not conceal his amazement on finding them always employed.

Their visitors, except those from Barton Park, were not many. The high downs which invited them from almost every window of the cottage to seek the exquisite enjoyment of air on their summits, were a happy alternative. Towards one of these hills Marianne and Margaret one memorable morning directed their steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of a showery sky.

They gaily ascended the downs; and when they caught in their faces the gales of a high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears which had prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations.

“Is there a felicity in the world,” said Marianne, “superior to this? – Margaret, we will walk here at least two hours.”

Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way against the wind, when suddenly the clouds united over their heads, and a driving rain set full in their face. Dissapointed and surprised, they were obliged to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their own house.

They began to run. A false step brought Marianne suddenly to the ground; and Margaret, unable to stop herself to assist her, reached the bottom in safety.

A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing round him, was passing up the hill and within a few yards of Marianne, when her accident happened. He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. She had raised herself from the ground, but she was scarcely able to stand. The gentleman offered his services; and took her up in his arms without farther delay, and carried her down the hill. Then he bore her directly into the house, and seated her in a chair in the parlour. Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance. While the eyes of both were fixed on him with an evident wonder and a secret admiration, he apologized for his intrusion, in a manner so frank and so graceful that his person received additional charms from his voice and expression. The influence of youth, beauty, and elegance gave an interest to the action which Mrs. Dashwood saw.

She thanked him again and again; and invited him to be seated. But this he declined, as he was dirty and wet. Mrs. Dashwood then begged to know to whom she was obliged. His name, he replied, was Willoughby, and his present home was at Allenham. He hopes she will allow him to visit Miss Dashwood tomorrow. The honour was readily granted, and he then departed, to make himself still more interesting, in the midst of a heavy rain.