Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
by Jane Austen (1811)
Chapter 11
Little had Mrs. Dashwood or her daughters
imagined when they first came into
Devonshire, that so many engagements would
arise to occupy their time as shortly
presented themselves, or that they should
have such frequent invitations and such
constant visitors as to leave them little
leisure for serious employment.
Yet such was the case.
When Marianne was recovered, the schemes of
amusement at home and abroad, which Sir
John had been previously forming, were put
into execution.
The private balls at the park then began;
and parties on the water were made and
accomplished as often as a showery October
would allow.
In every meeting of the kind Willoughby was
included; and the ease and familiarity
which naturally attended these parties were
exactly calculated to give increasing
intimacy to his acquaintance with the
Dashwoods, to afford him opportunity of
witnessing the excellencies of Marianne, of
marking his animated admiration of her, and
of receiving, in her behaviour to himself,
the most pointed assurance of her
affection.
Elinor could not be surprised at their
attachment.
She only wished that it were less openly
shewn; and once or twice did venture to
suggest the propriety of some self-command
to Marianne.
But Marianne abhorred all concealment where
no real disgrace could attend unreserve;
and to aim at the restraint of sentiments
which were not in themselves illaudable,
appeared to her not merely an unnecessary
effort, but a disgraceful subjection of
reason to common-place and mistaken
notions.
Willoughby thought the same; and their
behaviour at all times, was an illustration
of their opinions.
When he was present she had no eyes for any
one else.
Every thing he did, was right.
Every thing he said, was clever.
If their evenings at the park were
concluded with cards, he cheated himself
and all the rest of the party to get her a
good hand.
If dancing formed the amusement of the
night, they were partners for half the
time; and when obliged to separate for a
couple of dances, were careful to stand
together and scarcely spoke a word to any
body else.
Such conduct made them of course most
exceedingly laughed at; but ridicule could
not shame, and seemed hardly to provoke
them.
Mrs. Dashwood entered into all their
feelings with a warmth which left her no
inclination for checking this excessive
display of them.
To her it was but the natural consequence
of a strong affection in a young and ardent
mind.
This was the season of happiness to
Marianne.
Her heart was devoted to Willoughby, and
the fond attachment to Norland, which she
brought with her from Sussex, was more
likely to be softened than she had thought
it possible before, by the charms which his
society bestowed on her present home.
Elinor's happiness was not so great.
Her heart was not so much at ease, nor her
satisfaction in their amusements so pure.
They afforded her no companion that could
make amends for what she had left behind,
nor that could teach her to think of
Norland with less regret than ever.
Neither Lady Middleton nor Mrs. Jennings
could supply to her the conversation she
missed; although the latter was an
everlasting talker, and from the first had
regarded her with a kindness which ensured
her a large share of her discourse.
She had already repeated her own history to
Elinor three or four times; and had
Elinor's memory been equal to her means of
improvement, she might have known very
early in their acquaintance all the
particulars of Mr. Jennings's last illness,
and what he said to his wife a few minutes
before he died.
Lady Middleton was more agreeable than her
mother only in being more silent.
Elinor needed little observation to
perceive that her reserve was a mere
calmness of manner with which sense had
nothing to do.
Towards her husband and mother she was the
same as to them; and intimacy was therefore
neither to be looked for nor desired.
She had nothing to say one day that she had
not said the day before.
Her insipidity was invariable, for even her
spirits were always the same; and though
she did not oppose the parties arranged by
her husband, provided every thing were
conducted in style and her two eldest
children attended her, she never appeared
to receive more enjoyment from them than
she might have experienced in sitting at
home;--and so little did her presence add
to the pleasure of the others, by any share
in their conversation, that they were
sometimes only reminded of her being
amongst them by her solicitude about her
troublesome boys.
In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new
acquaintance, did Elinor find a person who
could in any degree claim the respect of
abilities, excite the interest of
friendship, or give pleasure as a
companion.
Willoughby was out of the question.
Her admiration and regard, even her
sisterly regard, was all his own; but he
was a lover; his attentions were wholly
Marianne's, and a far less agreeable man
might have been more generally pleasing.
Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for himself,
had no such encouragement to think only of
Marianne, and in conversing with Elinor he
found the greatest consolation for the
indifference of her sister.
Elinor's compassion for him increased, as
she had reason to suspect that the misery
of disappointed love had already been known
to him.
This suspicion was given by some words
which accidently dropped from him one
evening at the park, when they were sitting
down together by mutual consent, while the
others were dancing.
His eyes were fixed on Marianne, and, after
a silence of some minutes, he said, with a
faint smile, "Your sister, I understand,
does not approve of second attachments."
"No," replied Elinor, "her opinions are all
"Or rather, as I believe, she considers
them impossible to exist."
"I believe she does.
But how she contrives it without reflecting
on the character of her own father, who had
himself two wives, I know not.
A few years however will settle her
opinions on the reasonable basis of common
sense and observation; and then they may be
more easy to define and to justify than
they now are, by any body but herself."
"This will probably be the case," he
replied; "and yet there is something so
amiable in the prejudices of a young mind,
that one is sorry to see them give way to
the reception of more general opinions."
"I cannot agree with you there," said
Elinor.
"There are inconveniences attending such
feelings as Marianne's, which all the
charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of the
world cannot atone for.
Her systems have all the unfortunate
tendency of setting propriety at nought;
and a better acquaintance with the world is
what I look forward to as her greatest
possible advantage."
After a short pause he resumed the
conversation by saying,--
"Does your sister make no distinction in
her objections against a second attachment?
or is it equally criminal in every body?
Are those who have been disappointed in
their first choice, whether from the
inconstancy of its object, or the
perverseness of circumstances, to be
equally indifferent during the rest of
their lives?"
"Upon my word, I am not acquainted with the
minutiae of her principles.
I only know that I never yet heard her
admit any instance of a second attachment's
being pardonable."
"This," said he, "cannot hold; but a
change, a total change of sentiments--No,
no, do not desire it; for when the romantic
refinements of a young mind are obliged to
give way, how frequently are they succeeded
by such opinions as are but too common, and
too dangerous!
I speak from experience.
I once knew a lady who in temper and mind
greatly resembled your sister, who thought
and judged like her, but who from an
inforced change--from a series of
unfortunate circumstances"-- Here he stopt
suddenly; appeared to think that he had
said too much, and by his countenance gave
rise to conjectures, which might not
otherwise have entered Elinor's head.
The lady would probably have passed without
suspicion, had he not convinced Miss
Dashwood that what concerned her ought not
to escape his lips.
As it was, it required but a slight effort
of fancy to connect his emotion with the
tender recollection of past regard.
Elinor attempted no more.
But Marianne, in her place, would not have
done so little.
The whole story would have been speedily
formed under her active imagination; and
every thing established in the most
melancholy order of disastrous love.