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SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
by Jane Austen (1811)
Chapter 27
"If this open weather holds much longer,"
said Mrs. Jennings, when they met at
breakfast the following morning, "Sir John
will not like leaving Barton next week;
'tis a sad thing for sportsmen to lose a
day's pleasure.
Poor souls!
I always pity them when they do; they seem
to take it so much to heart."
"That is true," cried Marianne, in a
cheerful voice, and walking to the window
as she spoke, to examine the day.
"I had not thought of that.
This weather will keep many sportsmen in
the country."
It was a lucky recollection, all her good
spirits were restored by it.
"It is charming weather for THEM indeed,"
she continued, as she sat down to the
breakfast table with a happy countenance.
"How much they must enjoy it!
But" (with a little return of anxiety) "it
cannot be expected to last long.
At this time of the year, and after such a
series of rain, we shall certainly have
very little more of it.
Frosts will soon set in, and in all
probability with severity.
In another day or two perhaps; this extreme
mildness can hardly last longer--nay,
perhaps it may freeze tonight!"
"At any rate," said Elinor, wishing to
prevent Mrs. Jennings from seeing her
sister's thoughts as clearly as she did, "I
dare say we shall have Sir John and Lady
Middleton in town by the end of next week."
"Ay, my dear, I'll warrant you we do.
Mary always has her own way."
"And now," silently conjectured Elinor,
"she will write to Combe by this day's
post."
But if she DID, the letter was written and
sent away with a privacy which eluded all
her watchfulness to ascertain the fact.
Whatever the truth of it might be, and far
as Elinor was from feeling thorough
contentment about it, yet while she saw
Marianne in spirits, she could not be very
uncomfortable herself.
And Marianne was in spirits; happy in the
mildness of the weather, and still happier
in her expectation of a frost.
The morning was chiefly spent in leaving
cards at the houses of Mrs. Jennings's
acquaintance to inform them of her being in
town; and Marianne was all the time busy in
observing the direction of the wind,
watching the variations of the sky and
imagining an alteration in the air.
"Don't you find it colder than it was in
the morning, Elinor?
There seems to me a very decided
difference.
I can hardly keep my hands warm even in my
***.
It was not so yesterday, I think.
The clouds seem parting too, the sun will
be out in a moment, and we shall have a
clear afternoon."
Elinor was alternately diverted and pained;
but Marianne persevered, and saw every
night in the brightness of the fire, and
every morning in the appearance of the
atmosphere, the certain symptoms of
approaching frost.
The Miss Dashwoods had no greater reason to
be dissatisfied with Mrs. Jennings's style
of living, and set of acquaintance, than
with her behaviour to themselves, which was
invariably kind.
Every thing in her household arrangements
was conducted on the most liberal plan, and
excepting a few old city friends, whom, to
Lady Middleton's regret, she had never
dropped, she visited no one to whom an
introduction could at all discompose the
feelings of her young companions.
Pleased to find herself more comfortably
situated in that particular than she had
expected, Elinor was very willing to
compound for the want of much real
enjoyment from any of their evening
parties, which, whether at home or abroad,
formed only for cards, could have little to
amuse her.
Colonel Brandon, who had a general
invitation to the house, was with them
almost every day; he came to look at
Marianne and talk to Elinor, who often
derived more satisfaction from conversing
with him than from any other daily
occurrence, but who saw at the same time
with much concern his continued regard for
her sister.
She feared it was a strengthening regard.
It grieved her to see the earnestness with
which he often watched Marianne, and his
spirits were certainly worse than when at
Barton.
About a week after their arrival, it became
certain that Willoughby was also arrived.
His card was on the table when they came in
from the morning's drive.
"Good God!" cried Marianne, "he has been
here while we were out."
Elinor, rejoiced to be assured of his being
in London, now ventured to say, "Depend
upon it, he will call again tomorrow."
But Marianne seemed hardly to hear her, and
on Mrs. Jennings's entrance, escaped with
the precious card.
This event, while it raised the spirits of
Elinor, restored to those of her sister
all, and more than all, their former
agitation.
From this moment her mind was never quiet;
the expectation of seeing him every hour of
the day, made her unfit for any thing.
She insisted on being left behind, the next
morning, when the others went out.
Elinor's thoughts were full of what might
be passing in Berkeley Street during their
absence; but a moment's glance at her
sister when they returned was enough to
inform her, that Willoughby had paid no
second visit there.
A note was just then brought in, and laid
on the table.
"For me!" cried Marianne, stepping hastily
forward.
"No, ma'am, for my mistress."
But Marianne, not convinced, took it
instantly up.
"It is indeed for Mrs. Jennings; how
provoking!"
"You are expecting a letter, then?" said
Elinor, unable to be longer silent.
"Yes, a little--not much."
After a short pause.
"You have no confidence in me, Marianne."
"Nay, Elinor, this reproach from YOU--you
who have confidence in no one!"
"Me!" returned Elinor in some confusion;
"indeed, Marianne, I have nothing to tell."
"Nor I," answered Marianne with energy,
"our situations then are alike.
We have neither of us any thing to tell;
you, because you do not communicate, and I,
because I conceal nothing."
Elinor, distressed by this charge of
reserve in herself, which she was not at
liberty to do away, knew not how, under
such circumstances, to press for greater
openness in Marianne.
Mrs. Jennings soon appeared, and the note
being given her, she read it aloud.
It was from Lady Middleton, announcing
their arrival in Conduit Street the night
before, and requesting the company of her
mother and cousins the following evening.
Business on Sir John's part, and a violent
cold on her own, prevented their calling in
Berkeley Street.
The invitation was accepted; but when the
hour of appointment drew near, necessary as
it was in common civility to Mrs. Jennings,
that they should both attend her on such a
visit, Elinor had some difficulty in
persuading her sister to go, for still she
had seen nothing of Willoughby; and
therefore was not more indisposed for
amusement abroad, than unwilling to run the
risk of his calling again in her absence.
Elinor found, when the evening was over,
that disposition is not materially altered
by a change of abode, for although scarcely
settled in town, Sir John had contrived to
collect around him, nearly twenty young
people, and to amuse them with a ball.
This was an affair, however, of which Lady
Middleton did not approve.
In the country, an unpremeditated dance was
very allowable; but in London, where the
reputation of elegance was more important
and less easily attained, it was risking
too much for the gratification of a few
girls, to have it known that Lady Middleton
had given a small dance of eight or nine
couple, with two violins, and a mere side-
board collation.
Mr. and Mrs. Palmer were of the party; from
the former, whom they had not seen before
since their arrival in town, as he was
careful to avoid the appearance of any
attention to his mother-in-law, and
therefore never came near her, they
received no mark of recognition on their
entrance.
He looked at them slightly, without seeming
to know who they were, and merely nodded to
Mrs. Jennings from the other side of the
room.
Marianne gave one glance round the
apartment as she entered: it was enough--HE
was not there--and she sat down, equally
ill-disposed to receive or communicate
pleasure.
After they had been assembled about an
hour, Mr. Palmer sauntered towards the Miss
Dashwoods to express his surprise on seeing
them in town, though Colonel Brandon had
been first informed of their arrival at his
house, and he had himself said something
very droll on hearing that they were to
come.
"I thought you were both in Devonshire,"
said he.
"Did you?" replied Elinor.
"When do you go back again?"
"I do not know."
And thus ended their discourse.
Never had Marianne been so unwilling to
dance in her life, as she was that evening,
and never so much fatigued by the exercise.
She complained of it as they returned to
Berkeley Street.
"Aye, aye," said Mrs. Jennings, "we know
the reason of all that very well; if a
certain person who shall be nameless, had
been there, you would not have been a bit
tired: and to say the truth it was not very
pretty of him not to give you the meeting
when he was invited."
"Invited!" cried Marianne.
"So my daughter Middleton told me, for it
seems Sir John met him somewhere in the
street this morning."
Marianne said no more, but looked
exceedingly hurt.
Impatient in this situation to be doing
something that might lead to her sister's
relief, Elinor resolved to write the next
morning to her mother, and hoped by
awakening her fears for the health of
Marianne, to procure those inquiries which
had been so long delayed; and she was still
more eagerly bent on this measure by
perceiving after breakfast on the morrow,
that Marianne was again writing to
Willoughby, for she could not suppose it to
be to any other person.
About the middle of the day, Mrs. Jennings
went out by herself on business, and Elinor
began her letter directly, while Marianne,
too restless for employment, too anxious
for conversation, walked from one window to
the other, or sat down by the fire in
melancholy meditation.
Elinor was very earnest in her application
to her mother, relating all that had
passed, her suspicions of Willoughby's
inconstancy, urging her by every plea of
duty and affection to demand from Marianne
an account of her real situation with
respect to him.
Her letter was scarcely finished, when a
rap foretold a visitor, and Colonel Brandon
was announced.
Marianne, who had seen him from the window,
and who hated company of any kind, left the
room before he entered it.
He looked more than usually grave, and
though expressing satisfaction at finding
Miss Dashwood alone, as if he had somewhat
in particular to tell her, sat for some
time without saying a word.
Elinor, persuaded that he had some
communication to make in which her sister
was concerned, impatiently expected its
opening.
It was not the first time of her feeling
the same kind of conviction; for, more than
once before, beginning with the observation
of "your sister looks unwell to-day," or
"your sister seems out of spirits," he had
appeared on the point, either of
disclosing, or of inquiring, something
particular about her.
After a pause of several minutes, their
silence was broken, by his asking her in a
voice of some agitation, when he was to
congratulate her on the acquisition of a
brother?
Elinor was not prepared for such a
question, and having no answer ready, was
obliged to adopt the simple and common
expedient, of asking what he meant?
He tried to smile as he replied, "your
sister's engagement to Mr. Willoughby is
very generally known."
"It cannot be generally known," returned
Elinor, "for her own family do not know
it."
He looked surprised and said, "I beg your
pardon, I am afraid my inquiry has been
impertinent; but I had not supposed any
secrecy intended, as they openly
correspond, and their marriage is
universally talked of."
"How can that be?
By whom can you have heard it mentioned?"
"By many--by some of whom you know nothing,
by others with whom you are most intimate,
Mrs. Jennings, Mrs. Palmer, and the
Middletons.
But still I might not have believed it, for
where the mind is perhaps rather unwilling
to be convinced, it will always find
something to support its doubts, if I had
not, when the servant let me in today,
accidentally seen a letter in his hand,
directed to Mr. Willoughby in your sister's
writing.
I came to inquire, but I was convinced
before I could ask the question.
Is every thing finally settled?
Is it impossible to-?
But I have no right, and I could have no
chance of succeeding.
Excuse me, Miss Dashwood.
I believe I have been wrong in saying so
much, but I hardly know what to do, and on
your prudence I have the strongest
dependence.
Tell me that it is all absolutely resolved
on, that any attempt, that in short
concealment, if concealment be possible, is
all that remains."
These words, which conveyed to Elinor a
direct avowal of his love for her sister,
affected her very much.
She was not immediately able to say
anything, and even when her spirits were
recovered, she debated for a short time, on
the answer it would be most proper to give.
The real state of things between Willoughby
and her sister was so little known to
herself, that in endeavouring to explain
it, she might be as liable to say too much
as too little.
Yet as she was convinced that Marianne's
affection for Willoughby, could leave no
hope of Colonel Brandon's success, whatever
the event of that affection might be, and
at the same time wished to shield her
conduct from censure, she thought it most
prudent and kind, after some consideration,
to say more than she really knew or
believed.
She acknowledged, therefore, that though
she had never been informed by themselves
of the terms on which they stood with each
other, of their mutual affection she had no
doubt, and of their correspondence she was
not astonished to hear.
He listened to her with silent attention,
and on her ceasing to speak, rose directly
from his seat, and after saying in a voice
of emotion, "to your sister I wish all
imaginable happiness; to Willoughby that he
may endeavour to deserve her,"--took leave,
and went away.
Elinor derived no comfortable feelings from
this conversation, to lessen the uneasiness
of her mind on other points; she was left,
on the contrary, with a melancholy
impression of Colonel Brandon's
unhappiness, and was prevented even from
wishing it removed, by her anxiety for the
very event that must confirm it.