書(shū)蟲(chóng)5級(jí)《理智與情感》4．去與來(lái)

4. Departures and arrivals

The next morning, Mrs Dashwood, with two of her daughters, went to visit Lady Middleton. Marianne wished to remain at home, and her mother, thinking that no doubt Willoughby had promised to call on her while she was alone, was quite happy to agree. When they returned from the Park, they found, as expected, Willoughby's carriage waiting outside the cottage. But what they did not expect, as they entered the house, was to see Marianne rush out of the sitting-room, sobbing uncontrollably, and run upstairs. Surprised and worried, they went into the room, where they found only Willoughby. His face showed signs of the same strong feelings that had moved Marianne.

Is Marianne ill?' cried Mrs Dashwood.

I hope not,' he replied, trying to look cheerful. 'Indeed, it is I who may expect to be ill, as I am now suffering under a very heavy disappointment. I am unable to visit you any longer. My cousin, Mrs Smith, has this morning decided to send me to London on business. As a poor dependent relation, I must do what she asks. I have already left Allenham, and now I have come to say goodbye to you.'

This is very unfortunate. But Mrs Smith's business will not keep you from us for very long, I hope.'

He reddened as he replied, 'You are very kind, but I have no hope of returning to Devonshire immediately. My visits to Mrs Smith are never repeated within the year.'

And is Mrs Smith your only friend? Is Allenham the only house where you are welcome? My dear Willoughby! Surely you do not need to wait for an invitation to Barton Cottage?'

His colour deepened, and, with his eyes fixed on the ground, he only replied, 'You are too good.'

Mrs Dashwood looked at Elinor with surprise, and Elinor felt just as astonished.

After a moment's silence, Willoughby added confusedly, 'At present—my—my time is not my own... I cannot hope...' He stopped. Then, smiling weakly, he said, 'It is foolish to go on in this manner. I will not punish myself any longer by remaining among friends whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy.' Hurriedly he said goodbye and left the house. His carriage was soon out of sight.

Mrs Dashwood's concern and alarm at his sudden departure were too great for her to express. Elinor also felt extremely disturbed by Willoughby's changed behaviour. One moment she feared that he had never had any serious intention of marrying Marianne, and the next, that some unfortunate argument had taken place between him and her sister. But her strongest feeling was one of pity for Marianne, who must now be in the depths of the most violent sorrow; and her romantic nature would consider it a duty to feed and encourage her misery.

Soon Mrs Dashwood felt able to discuss the situation with her eldest daughter. She was now more cheerful, and had persuaded herself that Willoughby was only leaving Devonshire on the orders of his rich relation, because Mrs Smith suspected, and disapproved of, his engagement to Marianne. 'His dearest wish,' she went on, 'will be to return to Barton as soon as he can.'

Elinor, listening patiently, agreed that this was quite possible.

But if they are engaged,' she said, 'although it may be necessary to hide the truth from Mrs Smith, there is no reason to hide it from us.'

My dear child!' cried her mother. 'It is strange for you to accuse Willoughby and Marianne of hiding their feelings, when you have accused them of showing their feelings too openly.'

I want no proof of their affection,' said Elinor, 'but of their engagement I do.'

I am perfectly happy with both. Has not his behaviour to Marianne, for at least the last fortnight, shown that he loved her and considered her his future wife? Is it possible, Elinor, to doubt their engagement? Willoughby must be aware of your sister's love for him. How could he leave her, perhaps for months, without telling her of his affection?'

I confess,' said Elinor, 'that everything points towards their engagement, except for one thing—their silence on the subject—and for me that is the greatest difficulty of all.'

Oh Elinor, I do not understand you! You prefer to believe in bad rather than good. Do you suspect Willoughby? But is he not a man of honour and feeling? You cannot really think he is deceiving Marianne? '

I hope not, I believe not,' cried Elinor. 'I sincerely love Willoughby, and I find it painful to suspect his intentions. Perhaps, indeed, you are right, and there is a simple explanation for his strange behaviour this morning.'

They saw nothing of Marianne until dinner, when she took her place at the table without saying a word. Her eyes were red and her face pale; she avoided looking at anyone, and could neither eat nor speak. She continued in the depths of misery all evening. Any mention of anything to do with Willoughby made her burst into tears instantly, and although her family were most anxious for her comfort, it was impossible for them to keep clear of every subject which her feelings connected with him.

Marianne would have thought herself very insensitive if she had been able to sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to look her family in the face, if she had not risen from her bed more in need of rest than when she lay down on it. But there was no danger of this happening. She spent most of the night sobbing bitterly, and got up with a headache. She passed the rest of the day, and several more days after that, in feeding her sorrow, by playing all Willoughby's favourite songs, by reading the books they used to read together, and by walking alone on the hills where they used to walk, until her heart was so heavy that no further sadness could be added. No letter from Willoughby came, and none seemed expected by Marianne. Her mother was surprised, and Elinor again began to worry.

One morning, about a week later, Elinor persuaded Marianne to join her sisters in a walk. As they went along the road away from the cottage, they saw a gentleman riding towards them, and at once Marianne cried out in delight, 'It is he! I know it is!'

She ran eagerly to meet him, but Elinor called out, 'Marianne, I think you are wrong. It is not Willoughby.'

But Marianne would not listen, and continued running until she was quite near the rider, when she stopped suddenly. She had realized it was not Willoughby, and her disappointment was almost too great to bear. Just then, the gentleman called to her, and she recognized Edward Ferrars.

He was the only person in the world who could at that moment be forgiven for not being Willoughby, and she smiled at him, holding back her tears. After the greetings, however, she watched with growing surprise his polite and distant behaviour to Elinor, which was very unlike a lover's. And when she heard that he had already been in Devonshire for a fortnight, without coming to see Elinor, she almost began to feel dislike for him.

Have you been to Sussex recently?' asked Elinor.

I was at Norland about a month ago,' replied Edward.

How does dear, dear Norland look?' cried Marianne.

Dear, dear Norland,' said Elinor, 'probably looks much the same as it usually does at this time of year—the woods and walks thickly covered with dead leaves.'

Oh!' cried Marianne, 'those falling leaves gave me such delight! How I used to love seeing them driven around me by the wind! Now there is no one to watch them, no one to care.'

It is not everyone,' said Elinor, 'who has your passion for dead leaves.'

They all returned to the cottage together, where Edward received the kindest possible welcome from Mrs Dashwood. Under her warm influence he began to lose his shyness, or coldness, and to become more like himself, but he still did not seem cheerful. This was noticed by the whole family.

Well, Edward,' said Mrs Dashwood, after dinner, 'what are your mother's plans for you at present? Does Mrs Ferrars still want you to be a politician?'

No, I hope my mother realizes I can never do that. I am afraid she and I will never agree in our choice of a profession for me. As you know, I did not enjoy studying law. I have always preferred the Church, but that is too ordinary for my family.'

So how are you to become famous? Because that is what all your family wants, I understand.'

I shall not attempt it. I have no wish to be grand or important, and I have every reason to hope I never shall be.'

I know you are not ambitious, Edward.'

No. I wish, like everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but in my own way. Greatness will not make me happy.'

How right you are!' cried Marianne. 'What has wealth or greatness to do with happiness?'

Greatness has very little,' said Elinor, 'but wealth has much to do with it.'

Elinor!' cried Marianne, shocked. 'Money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it. Beyond answering our basic needs, money is of no use to us at all.'

Perhaps,' said Elinor, smiling, 'we may agree in the end. Your basic needs and my wealth are very much alike, I expect. Come, what is your basic figure?'

Two thousand a year, not more than that.'

Elinor laughed. 'Two thousand a year! One is my wealth! I guessed what you would say.'

And yet two thousand a year is not a large income. A family cannot live on less. The right number of servants, a carriage, and horses for riding, cannot be paid for with less than that.'

Elinor smiled again, to hear her sister describing so accurately her future life with Willoughby.

During Edward's visit, Elinor was careful to behave to him with her usual politeness and interest, but in her heart she was alarmed by his coldness towards her. It was clear that he was unhappy, and she doubted very much whether he still loved her. She could see, however, that his feelings were confused; sometimes, for a moment, he looked at her as he used to, and this gave her hope again.

The next day, as Marianne was passing some tea to Edward, she noticed a ring on his finger, and mentioned it.

I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward,' she cried. 'Is that your sister's hair in the ring? But surely hers is darker?'

Edward blushed deeply, and looking quickly at Elinor, said, 'Yes, it is Fanny's hair. It looks lighter than it really is.'

Elinor had met his eye, and knew the truth. She felt sure that the hair was her own, but it must have been taken from her without her knowing. She was not in the mood, however, to disapprove of this action, and changed the subject quickly.

The Dashwoods were sorry to hear that Edward had to leave them after only a week. Although he expressed his great pleasure at seeing such old friends, and could give no good reason for his departure, there seemed to be something forcing him to leave.

Elinor blamed his mother for his rather odd behaviour. His lack of cheerfulness could easily be explained by his lack of independence. She wondered when, if ever, his mother would finally drop all her ambitions for him, and allow him to make his own choices in life. A more comforting thought was the memory of his pleasant looks and words to her during his visit, and above all, the proof of his affection that he wore round his finger.

In spite of the painfulness of Edward's departure, Elinor was determined to hide her feelings, and show a brave face to the world. Doing this did not lessen her sadness, but at least prevented her family from worrying about her. Marianne could not admire such behaviour, so unlike her own; she believed that self-control was easy for calm natures like Elinor's, and simply impossible for passionate ones like hers.

One morning soon after Edward had left, Sir John and Lady Middleton and Mrs Jennings came to visit the Dashwoods, bringing with them Mr and Mrs Palmer. Charlotte Palmer was Mrs Jennings' younger daughter, but was completely unlike her sister, Lady Middleton, in every way. She was short and rather fat, had a very pretty face, and smiled or laughed all the time. Her husband was a serious-looking young man, who made no effort to please or be pleased. He read the newspaper for most of the visit, only lifting his head from time to time to give a cross, unsmiling answer to his wife's foolish questions. She, however, took an immediate liking to Elinor and Marianne, and spent much time in conversation with Elinor in particular. When Elinor realized that their home was in Somerset, near Willoughby's, she hoped to hear more about his character, so she asked Mrs Palmer if they knew him.

Oh yes, I know him extremely well,' replied Mrs Palmer. 'Not that I ever spoke to him, indeed, but I have often seen him in town. Everybody likes and admires him. I know very well why you ask. I am delighted that your sister is to marry him!'

You know much more of the matter than I do,' said Elinor, surprised, 'if you have any reason to expect that.'

Don't pretend it's not true, because you know it's what everybody in London is talking of.'

My dear Mrs Palmer!'

On my honour, they all talk of it. I met Colonel Brandon on Bond Street, and he told me of it immediately.'

You surprise me very much. I would not expect Colonel Brandon to give such information, even if it were true.'

Well, when I met him, I said, "Colonel, I hear there is a new family at Barton Cottage, and mama says the girls are very pretty, and that one of them is engaged to Mr Willoughby. Is it true?" And he said nothing, but from his expression I knew it was certain. Of course, I have known Coloner Brandon a long time. I believe,' she added in a low voice, 'he would have been very glad to marry me if he could. But mama did not think him a good enough husband for me. In any case, I am much happier as I am. Mr Palmer is just the kind of man I like.'