8/9 Sense And Sensibility - Stephanie Poppins

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen Chapter 8 Mrs.

Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure.

She had only two daughters,

Both of whom she had lived to see respectably married,

And she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the world.

She was remarkably quick in the discovery of attachments,

And this kind of discernment enabled her soon after her arrival at Barton decisively to pronounce that Colonel Brandon was very much in love with Marianne Dashwood.

She rather suspected it to be so on the very first evening of their being together,

From his listening so attentively while she sang to them.

It would be an excellent match,

For he was rich and she was handsome.

Mrs.

Jennings had been anxious to see Colonel Brandon well married ever since her connection with Sir John first brought him to her knowledge,

And she was always anxious to get a good husband for every pretty girl.

The immediate advantage to herself was by no means inconsiderable,

For it supplied her with an endless joke against them both.

At the park she laughed at the Colonel,

And in the cottage at Marianne.

To the former,

Her railery was probably perfectly indifferent,

But to the latter it was at first incomprehensible,

And when its object was understood,

She hardly knew whether most to laugh at its absurdity or censure its impertinence,

For she considered it as an unfeeling reflection on the Colonel's advanced years and on his forlorn condition as an old bachelor.

Mrs.

Dashwood,

Who could not think a man five years younger than herself so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful fancy of her daughter,

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.

Colonel Brandon is old enough to be my father,

And if he were ever animated enough to be in love,

Must have long outlived every sensation of the kind.

When is a man to be safe from such wit if age and infirmity will not protect him?

My dearest child,

Said her mother laughing,

At this rate you must be in a continual terror of my decay,

And it must seem to you a miracle that my life has been extended to the advanced age of forty.

I know very well that Colonel Brandon is not old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature,

But thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony.

Perhaps,

Said Eleanor,

Thirty-five and seventeen had better not have anything to do with matrimony together.

But if they should,

By any chance,

Happen to be a woman who is single at seven and twenty,

I should not think Colonel Brandon's being thirty-five any objection to his marrying her.

A woman of seven and twenty,

Said Marianne after pausing a moment,

Can never hope to feel or inspire affection again,

And if her home be uncomfortable or her fortune small,

I can suppose that she might bring herself to submit to the offices of a nurse for the sake of the provision and security of a wife.

It would be impossible,

I know,

Replied Eleanor,

To convince you that a woman of seven and twenty could feel for a man of thirty-five anything near enough to love him to make him a desirable companion to her.

But I must object to your dooming Colonel Brandon and his wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber,

Merely because he chanced to complain yesterday of a slight dramatic feel in one of his shoulders.

But he talked of flannel waistcoats,

Said Marianne,

And with me a flannel waistcoat is invariably connected with every species of ailment that can afflict the old and the feeble.

Had he been only in a violent fever,

You would not have despised him half so much.

Confess,

Marianne,

Is there not something interesting to you in the flushed cheek,

Hollow eye,

And quick pulse of a fever?

Soon after this,

Upon Eleanor'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.

' "'Had you any idea of his coming so soon?

' said Mrs Dashwood.

"'I had none.

"'On the contrary,

If I have felt any anxiety at all on the subject,

It has been in recollecting that he sometimes showed a want of pleasure and readiness in accepting my invitation when I talked of his coming to Barton.

'" "'Does Eleanor expect him already?

' "'I have never mentioned it to her,

But of course she must.

"'I rather think you are mistaken,

For when I was talking to her yesterday of getting a new grate for the spare bedchamber,

She observed there was no immediate hurry for it,

As it was not likely the room would be wanted for some time.

"'How strange this is!

What can be the meaning of it?

' "'But the whole of their behaviour to each other has been unaccountable.

"'In Edward's farewell there was no distinction between Eleanor and me.

"'It was the good wishes of an affectionate brother to both.

"'And Eleanor,

In quitting Norland and Edward,

Cried not as I did.

"'Even now her self-command is invariable.

"'When is she dejected or melancholy?

"'When does she try to avoid society or appear restless and dissatisfied in it?

' Chapter 9 The Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with tolerable comfort to themselves.

Sir John Middleton,

Who called on them every day for the first fortnight,

And who was not in the habit of seeing much occupation at his home,

Could not conceal his amazement on finding them always employed.

Their visitors were not many,

For in spite of Sir John's urgent entreaties they would mix more in the neighbourhood,

And repeated assurances of his carriage always being at their service.

The independence of Mrs Dashwood's spirit overcame the wish of society for her children,

And she was resolute in declining to visit any family beyond the distance of a walk.

There were but few who could be so classed,

And it was not all of them that were attainable.

About a mile and a half from the cottage,

The girls had discovered an ancient respectable-looking mansion which interested their imagination and made them wish to be better acquainted with it.

But they learnt on enquiry that its possessor,

An elderly lady of very good character,

Was unfortunately too infirm to mix with the world,

And never stirred from home.

The whole country about them abounded in beautiful walks.

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 when the dirt of the valleys beneath shut up their superior beauties.

And towards one of these hills did Marianne and Margaret one memorable morning direct their steps.

They gaily ascended the downs,

Rejoicing in their own penetration of every glimpse of blue sky.

They pursued their way against the wind,

Resisting it with laughing delight,

When suddenly the clouds united over their heads and a driving rain set full in their face.

Chagrined and surprised,

They were obliged,

Though unwillingly,

To turn back,

For no shelter was nearer than their own house.

One consolation,

However,

Remained for them.

It was that of running with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill which led immediately to their garden gate.

They set off.

Marianne had at first the advantage,

But a false step brought her suddenly to the ground and Margaret,

Unable to stop herself to assist her,

Was involuntarily hurried along and reached the bottom in safety.

A gentleman carrying a gun,

With two pointers playing around 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.

Her foot had been twisted in the fall and she was scarcely able to stand.

The gentleman offered his services and,

Perceiving that her modesty declined to what her situation rendered necessary,

Took her up in his arms and carried her down the hill.

Then,

Passing through the garden,

He bore her directly into the house where the Margaret was just arrived and quitted not his hold till he had seated her in a chair in the parlour.

Eleanor and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance and while the eyes of both were fixed on him with evident wonder,

He apologised for his intrusion by relating its cause in a manner so frank and so graceful that his person,

Which was uncommonly handsome,

Received additional charms from his voice and expression.

Mrs Dashwood then begged to know whom she was obliged to.

His name,

He replied,

Was Willoughby and his present home was at Allenham,

From whence he hoped she would allow him the honour of calling tomorrow to enquire after Miss Dashwood.

The honour was readily granted and then he departed to make himself still more interesting in the midst of heavy rain.

His manly beauty and more than common gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration.

Marianne had seen less of his person than the rest,

For the confusion which crimsoned over her face on his lifting her up had robbed her of the power of regarding him after their entering the house.

But she had seen enough of him to join in all the admiration of the others and with an energy which always adorned her praise.

Every circumstance belonging to him was interesting.

His name was good,

His residence was in their favourite village and she soon found out that of all manly dress,

A shooting jacket was the most becoming.

Sir John called on them as soon as the next interval of fair weather that morning allowed him to get out of doors.

And Marianne's accident being related to him,

He was eagerly asked whether he knew any gentleman of the name of Willoughby at Allanham.

Willoughby?

Cried Sir John.

What,

Is he in the country?

I will write over tomorrow and ask him to dinner on Thursday.

You know him then?

Said Mrs Dashwood.

Know him?

To be sure I do.

What sort of a young man is he?

As good a kind of fellow as ever lived I assure you.

A very decent shot and there's not a bolder rider in England.

And is that all you can say for him?

Cried Marianne indignantly.

But what are his manners on more intimate acquaintance?

What his pursuits,

His talents and genius?

Sir John was rather puzzled.

Upon my soul?

Said he.

I do not know much about him as to all that.

But he is a pleasant,

Good-humoured fellow and has got the nicest little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw.

But who is he?

Said Eleanor.

Where does he come from?

Has he a house at Allanham?

Sir John told them that Mr Willoughby had no property of his own in the country.

That he resided there only while he was visiting the old lady at Allanham Court to whom he was related and whose possessions he was to inherit.

Adding,

Yes,

Yes,

He's very well worth catching.

I can tell you,

Miss Dashwood.

He has a pretty little estate of his own in Somersetshire.

Besides,

And if I were you,

I would not give him up to my younger sister in spite of all this tumbling down hills.

Miss Marianne must not expect to have all the men to herself.

Brandon will be jealous if she does not take care.

I do not believe,

Said Mrs Dashwood,

With a good-humoured smile,

That Mr Willoughby will be incommoded by the attempts of either of my daughters towards what you call catching him.

I am glad to find,

However,

From what you say,

That he is a respectable young man.

He is as good a sort of fellow,

I believe,

As ever lived,

Repeated Sir John.

I remember last Christmas,

At a little hop at the park,

He danced from eight o'clock till four without once sitting down.

Did he indeed,

Cried Marianne with sparkling eyes,

And with elegance,

With spirit?

Yes,

And he was up again at eight to ride to Covert.

That is what I like,

That is what a young man ought to be.

Aye,

Aye,

I see how it will be,

Said Sir John,

I see how it will be.

You will be setting your cap at him now,

And never think of poor Brandon.

That is an expression,

Sir John,

Said Marianne warmly,

Which I particularly dislike.

I abhor every commonplace phrase by which wit is intended,

And setting one's cap at a man,

Or making a conquest,

Are the most odious of all.

Sir John did not much understand this reproof,

But he laughed as heartily as if he did,

And then replied,

Aye,

You will make conquests enough,

I dare say,

One way or the other.

Poor Brandon,

He is quite smitten already,

And he is very well worth setting your cap at.

I can tell you,

In spite of all this tumbling about and spraining of ankles.