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.
His manly beauty and gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration. He was a real hero in Marianne’s eyes. His name was good, his residence was in their favourite village, and she soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming.
Sir John called on them[6] soon. Marianne’s accident was related to him, and he was asked whether he knew any gentleman of the name of Willoughby at Allenham.
“Willoughby!” cried Sir John; “That is good news; I will ride over tomorrow, and ask him to dinner on Thursday.”
“You know him then,” said Mrs. Dashwood.
“Know him! to be sure I do. He domes here every year.”
“And what sort of a young man is he?”
“A very good fellow, I assure you. An excellent hunter, and the best rider in England.”
“And is that all you can say?” cried Marianne, indignantly. “What are his manners? What are his pursuits, his talents, and genius?”
Sir John was rather puzzled.
“You know,” said he, “I do not know much about him. But he is a pleasant, good-humoured fellow, and has got the nicest pointer I ever saw. Was it with him?”
But Marianne could no tell about Mr. Willoughby’s pointer.
“But who is he?” said Elinor. “Where does he come from? Has he a house at Allenham?”
Sir John told them that Mr. Willoughby had no property of his own in the country. He resided there only while he was visiting the old lady at Allenham Court, to whom he was related, and whose possessions he was to inherit; adding,
“Yes, yes, he is very well worth catching[7] I can tell you, Miss Dashwood. He has a pretty little estate of his own in Somersetshire besides. Miss Marianne must not expect to have all the men to herself. Brandon will be jealous, if she does not take care[8].”
“I do not believe,” said Mrs. Dashwood, with a smile, “that my daughters will try to catch Mr. Willoughby. Men are very safe with us, let them be ever so rich. I am glad to find, however, from what you say, that he is a respectable young man, and one whose acquaintance will not be ineligible.”
“He is a good fellow, I believe,” repeated Sir John. “I remember last Christmas he danced from eight o’clock till four.”
“Did he indeed?” cried Marianne with sparkling eyes, “and with elegance, with spirit?”
“Yes; and he was up again at eight to go hunting.”
“That is what I like; that is what a young man ought to be!”
“I see,” said Sir John, “You are interested in him now, and you will never think of poor Brandon.”
“That is an expression, Sir John,” said Marianne, warmly, “which I particularly dislike. It is gross and illiberal.”
Sir John laughed heartily, and then replied,
“Poor Brandon! He is in love already, and he is very well worth catching, too, I can tell
called on them – посетил их
he is very well worth catching – его стоит поймать
if she does not take care – если она не поостережётся
