Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
by Jane Austen (1811)
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.
In the promotion of this object she was
zealously active, as far as her ability
reached; and missed no opportunity of
projecting weddings among all the young
people of her acquaintance.
She was remarkably quick in the discovery
of attachments, and had enjoyed the
advantage of raising the blushes and the
vanity of many a young lady by insinuations
of her power over such a young man; 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; and when the visit was
returned by the Middletons' dining at the
cottage, the fact was ascertained by his
listening to her again.
It must be so.
She was perfectly convinced of it.
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 endless jokes against them both.
At the park she laughed at the colonel, and
in the cottage at Marianne.
To the former her raillery was probably, as
far as it regarded only himself, 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, 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; and if he were ever animated
enough to be in love, must have long
outlived every sensation of the kind.
It is too ridiculous!
When is a man to be safe from such wit, if
age and infirmity will not protect him?"
"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 you can hardly deceive yourself
as to his having the use of his limbs!"
"Did not you hear him complain of the
rheumatism? and is not that the commonest
infirmity of declining life?"
"My dearest child," said her mother,
laughing, "at this rate you must be in
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."
"Mama, you are not doing me justice.
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.
He may live twenty years longer.
But thirty-five has nothing to do with
matrimony."
"Perhaps," said Elinor, "thirty-five and
seventeen had better not have any thing to
do with matrimony together.
But if there 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.
In his marrying such a woman therefore
there would be nothing unsuitable.
It would be a compact of convenience, and
the world would be satisfied.
In my eyes it would be no marriage at all,
but that would be nothing.
To me it would seem only a commercial
exchange, in which each wished to be
benefited at the expense of the other."
"It would be impossible, I know," replied
Elinor, "to convince you that a woman of
seven and twenty could feel for a man of
thirty-five anything near enough to love,
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 (a
very cold damp day) of a slight rheumatic
feel in one of his shoulders."
"But he talked of flannel waistcoats," said
Marianne; "and with me a flannel waistcoat
is invariably connected with aches, cramps,
rheumatisms, and 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 not there something
interesting to you in the flushed cheek,
hollow eye, and quick pulse of a fever?"
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.
Nothing but real indisposition could
occasion this extraordinary delay.
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, 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 Elinor 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 that there was no immediate hurry
for it, as it was not likely that 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!
How cold, how composed were their last
adieus!
How languid their conversation the last
evening of their being together!
In Edward's farewell there was no
distinction between Elinor and me: it was
the good wishes of an affectionate brother
to both.
Twice did I leave them purposely together
in the course of the last morning, and each
time did he most unaccountably follow me
out of the room.
And Elinor, 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?"