preserver, as Margaret named Willoughby, called at the cottage early the next morning to make his personal enquiries. He was received by Mrs. Dashwood with politeness. Everything during the visit tended to assure him of the sense, elegance, mutual affection, and domestic comfort of the family to whom accident had now introduced him.
Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion, regular features, and a remarkably pretty figure. Marianne was still handsomer. Her form was more striking; and her face was lovely. Her skin was very brown, but her complexion was uncommonly brilliant. Her features were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, an eagerness.
It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her to talk. She could not be silent, and she had neither shyness nor reserve. They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual. She proceeded to question him on the subject of books. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by each.
“Well, Marianne,” said Elinor, as soon as he had left them, “for one morning I think you have done pretty well. You have already ascertained Mr. Willoughby’s opinion in almost everything. You know what he thinks of Cowper and Scott. But you will soon have exhausted each favourite topic. Another meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments, and then you can have nothing farther to ask.”
“Elinor,” cried Marianne, “are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you mean. I have been too happy, too frank. I have been open and sincere where I ought to be reserved, spiritless, dull, and deceitful.”
“My love,” said her mother, “you must not be offended with Elinor – she was only in jest[9].”
Marianne was softened in a moment.
Willoughby, on his side, came to them every day. To enquire after Marianne was at first his excuse, but the encouragement of his reception made such an excuse unnecessary. Willoughby was a young man of good abilities, quick imagination, lively spirits, and open, affectionate manners. He was exactly formed to engage Marianne’s heart.
His society became gradually her most exquisite enjoyment. They read, they talked, they sang together; his musical talents were considerable; and he read with the sensibility and spirit.
In Mrs. Dashwood’s estimation he was as faultless as in Marianne’s; and Elinor saw nothing to censure in him.
Her mother expected their marriage; and secretly congratulated herself on two such sons-in-law as Edward and Willoughby.
Colonel Brandon’s partiality for Marianne now became perceptible to Elinor. Elinor was obliged, though unwillingly, to believe that the sentiments which Mrs. Jennings had assigned him, were now actually excited by her sister. She liked him – in spite of his gravity and reserve, she beheld in him an object of interest. His manners, though serious, were mild. Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him because Willoughby and Marianne undervalued his merits.
“Brandon is just the kind of man,” said Willoughby one day, when they were talking of him together, “whom everybody speaks well of, and nobody cares about.”
“That is exactly what I think of him,” cried Marianne.
“However,” said Elinor, “it is injustice. He is highly esteemed by all the family at the park, and I like to converse with him.”
“That he is patronised by you,” replied Willoughby, “is certainly in his favour; but as for the esteem of the others, it is a reproach. In defence of your protégé you can even be saucy.”
“My protégé, as you call him, is a sensible man; and sense will always have attractions for me. Yes, Marianne, even in a man between thirty and forty. He has seen much; has been abroad, has read, and has a thinking mind. He is capable of giving me much information on various subjects; and he has always answered my inquiries with readiness of good nature.”
“That is to say,” cried Marianne contemptuously, “he has told you, that in the East Indies the climate is hot, and the mosquitoes are troublesome.”
“Perhaps,” said Willoughby, “his observations may extend to the existence of nabobs and palanquins.”
“Why do you dislike him?” asked Elinor.
“I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the contrary, as a very respectable man, who has more money than he can spend, more time than he knows how to employ, and two new coats every year.”
“And,” cried Marianne, “he has neither genius, taste, nor spirit. His understanding has no brilliancy, his feelings no ardour, and his voice no expression.”
“I can only say,” replied Elinor, “that he is a sensible man, well-bred, well-informed, and, I believe, possessing an amiable heart.”
“Miss Dashwood,” cried Willoughby, “I have three reasons for disliking Colonel Brandon. He threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine. He has found fault with my curricle. And I cannot persuade him to buy my brown mare. However, his character in other respects is irreproachable, I am ready to confess it.”
Chapter XI
When Marianne was recovered, the private balls at the park began. The parties on the water were made and accomplished as often as a showery October allowed. In every meeting Willoughby was included.
Elinor was not surprised at their attachment. She only wished it was less openly shown. Marianne abhorred all concealment. Willoughby thought the same; and their behaviour at all times, was an illustration of their opinions.
When he was present she did not see anyone else. Everything he did, was right. Everything 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 let her win. If dancing formed the amusement of the night, they were partners for half the time. The people laughed at them; but ridicule could not shame and provoke them. To Mrs. Dashwood 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.
Elinor’s happiness was not so great. Her heart was not so much at ease. Neither Lady Middleton nor Mrs. Jennings were her friends; although the latter was an everlasting talker. Lady Middleton was more agreeable than her mother because she was more silent. But Elinor perceived that her reserve was a mere calmness of manner. Towards her husband and mother she was the same as to them. She had nothing to say one day that she had not said the day before.
In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintance, did Elinor find an interesting person. He excited the interest of friendship, and gave pleasure as a companion. Willoughby was out of the question. His attentions were wholly Marianne’s. Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for himself, did not think only of Marianne. 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 he knew misery of disappointed love[10]. This suspicion was given by some words which accidentally dropped from him one evening at the park, when they were sitting down together, 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,”
she was only in jest – она просто пошутила
disappointed love – несчастная любовь
