CHAPTER XII

rs. John Dashwood had so much confidence in her

husband's judgment, that she waited the very next day

both on Mrs. Jennings and her daughter; and her

confidence was rewarded by finding even the former, even the

woman with whom her sisters were staying, by no means

unworthy her notice; and as for Lady Middleton, she found her

one of the most charming women in the world!

Lady Middleton was equally pleased with Mrs. Dashwood.

There was a kind of cold hearted selfishness on both sides, which

mutually attracted them; and they sympathised with each other in

an insipid propriety of demeanour, and a general want of

understanding.

The same manners, however, which recommended Mrs. John

Dashwood to the good opinion of Lady Middleton did not suit the

fancy of Mrs. Jennings, and to her she appeared nothing more

than a little proud-looking woman of uncordial address, who met

her husband's sisters without any affection, and almost without

having anything to say to them; for of the quarter of an hour

bestowed on Berkeley-street, she sat at least seven minutes and a

half in silence.

Elinor wanted very much to know, though she did not chuse to

ask, whether Edward was then in town; but nothing would have

induced Fanny voluntarily to mention his name before her, till

able to tell her that his marriage with Miss Morton was resolved

on, or till her husband's expectations on Colonel Brandon were

answered; because she believed them still so very much attached

to each other, that they could not be too sedulously divided in

word and deed on every occasion. The intelligence however,

which she would not give, soon flowed from another quarter. Lucy

came very shortly to claim Elinor's compassion on being unable to

see Edward, though he had arrived in town with Mr. and Mrs.

Dashwood. He dared not come to Bartlett's Buildings for fear of

detection, and though their mutualimpatience to meet, was not to

be told, they could do nothing at present but write.

Edward assured them himself of his being in town, within a

very short time, by twice calling in Berkeley-street. Twice was his

card found on the table, when they returned from their morning's

engagements. Elinor was pleased that he had called; and still more

pleased that she had missed him.

The Dashwoods were so prodigiously delighted with the

Middletons, that, though not much in the habit of giving anything,

they determined to give them―a dinner; and soon after their

acquaintance began, invited them to dine in Harley-street, where

they had taken a very good house for three months. Their sisters

and Mrs. Jennings were invited likewise, and John Dashwood was

careful to secure Colonel Brandon, who, always glad to be where

the Miss Dashwoods were, received his eager civilities with some

surprise, but much more pleasure. They were to meet Mrs.

Ferrars; but Elinor could not learn whether her sons were to be of

the party. The expectation of seeing her, however, was enough to

make her interested in the engagement; for though she could now

meet Edward's mother without that strong anxiety which had

once promised to attend such an introduction, though she could

now see her with perfect indifference as to her opinion of herself,

her desire of being in company with Mrs. Ferrars, her curiosity to

know what she was like, was as lively as ever.

The interest with which she thus anticipated the party, was

soon afterwards increased, more powerfully than pleasantly, by

her hearing that the Miss Steeles were also to be at it.

So well had they recommended themselves to Lady Middleton,

so agreeable had their assiduities made them to her, that though

Lucy was certainly not so elegant, and her sister not even genteel,

she was as ready as Sir John to ask them to spend a week or two in

Conduit-street; and it happened to be particularly convenient to

the Miss Steeles, as soon as the Dashwoods' invitation was known,

that their visit should begin a few days before the party took place.

Their claims to the notice of Mrs. John Dashwood, as the nieces

of the gentleman who for many years had had the care of her

brother, might not have done much, however, towards procuring

them seats at her table; but as Lady Middleton's guests they must

be welcome; and Lucy, who had long wanted to be personally

known to the family, to have a nearer view of their characters and

her own difficulties, and to have an opportunity of endeavouring

to please them, had seldom been happier in her life, than she was

on receiving Mrs. John Dashwood's card.

On Elinor its effect was very different. She began immediately

to determine that Edward who lived with his mother, must be

asked as his mother was, to a party given by his sister; and to see

him for the first time, after all that passed, in the company of

Lucy!―she hardly knew how she could bear it!

These apprehensions, perhaps, were not founded entirely on

reason, and certainly not at all on truth. They were relieved

however, not by her own recollection, but by the good will of Lucy,

who believed herself to be inflicting a severe disappointment when

she told her that Edward certainly would not be in Harley-street

on Tuesday, and even hoped to be carrying the pain still farther by

persuading her that he was kept away by the extreme affection for

herself, which he could not conceal when they were together.

The important Tuesday came that was to introduce the two

young ladies to this formidable mother-in-law.

"Pity me, dear Miss Dashwood!" said Lucy, as they walked up

the stairs together―for the Middletons arrived so directly after

Mrs. Jennings, that they all followed the servant at the same

time―"There is nobody here but you, that can feel for me.―I

declare I can hardly stand. Good gracious!―In a moment I shall

see the person that all my happiness depends on―that is to be my

mother!"―

Elinor could have given her immediate relief by suggesting the

possibility of its being Miss Morton's mother, rather than her own,

whom they were about to behold; but instead of doing that, she

assured her, and with great sincerity, that she did pity her―to the

utter amazement of Lucy, who, though really uncomfortable

herself, hoped at least to be an object of irrepressible envy to

Elinor.

Mrs. Ferrars was a little, thin woman, upright, even to

formality, in her figure, and serious, even to sourness, in her

aspect. Her complexion was sallow; and her features small,

without beauty, and naturally without expression; but a lucky

contraction of the brow had rescued her countenance from the

disgrace of insipidity, by giving it the strong characters of pride

and ill nature. She was not a woman of many words; for, unlike

people in general, she proportioned them to the number of her

ideas; and of the few syllables that did escape her, not one fell to

the share of Miss Dashwood, whom she eyed with the spirited

determination of disliking her at all events.

Elinor could not now be made unhappy by this behaviour.―A

few months ago it would have hurt her exceedingly; but it was not

in Mrs. Ferrars' power to distress her by it now;―and the

difference of her manners to the Miss Steeles, a difference which

seemed purposely made to humble her more, only amused her.

She could not but smile to see the graciousness of both mother

and daughter towards the very person―for Lucy was particularly

distinguished―whom of all others, had they known as much as

she did, they would have been most anxious to mortify; while she

herself, who had comparatively no power to wound them, sat

pointedly slighted by both. But while she smiled at a graciousness

so misapplied, she could not reflect on the mean-spirited folly from

which it sprung, nor observe the studied attentions with which the

Miss Steeles courted its continuance, without thoroughly

despising them all four.

Lucy was all exultation on being so honourably distinguished;

and Miss Steele wanted only to be teazed about Dr. Davis to be

perfectly happy.

The dinner was a grand one, the servants were numerous, and

every thing bespoke the Mistress's inclination for show, and the

Master's ability to support it. In spite of the improvements and

additions which were making to the Norland estate, and in spite of

its owner having once been within some thousand pounds of being

obliged to sell out at a loss, nothing gave any symptom of that

indigence which he had tried to infer from it;―no poverty of any

kind, except of conversation, appeared―but there, the deficiency

was considerable. John Dashwood had not much to say for himself

that was worth hearing, and his wife had still less. But there was

no peculiar disgrace in this; for it was very much the case with the

chief of their visitors, who almost all laboured under one or other

of these disqualifications for being agreeable―Want of sense,

either natural or improved―want of elegance―want of spirits―or

want of temper.

When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room after dinner,

this poverty was particularly evident, for the gentlemen had

supplied the discourse with some variety―the variety of politics,

inclosing land, and breaking horses―but then it was all over; and

one subject only engaged the ladies till coffee came in, which was

the comparative heights of Harry Dashwood, and Lady

Middleton's second son William, who were nearly of the same age.

Had both the children been there, the affair might have been

determined too easily by measuring them at once; but as Harry

only was present, it was all conjectural assertion on both sides;

and every body had a right to be equally positive in their opinion,

and to repeat it over and over again as often as they liked.

The parties stood thus:

The two mothers, though each really convinced that her own

son was the tallest, politelydecided in favour of the other.

The two grandmothers, with not less partiality, but more

sincerity, were equally earnest in support of their own descendant.

Lucy, who was hardly less anxious to please one parent than

the other, thought the boys were both remarkably tall for their

age, and could not conceive that there could be the smallest

difference in the world between them; and Miss Steele, with yet

greater address gave it, as fast as she could, in favour of each.

Elinor, having once delivered her opinion on William's side, by

which she offended Mrs. Ferrars and Fanny still more, did not see

the necessity of enforcing it by any farther assertion; and

Marianne, when called on for her's, offended them all, by

declaring that she had no opinion to give, as she had never

thought about it.

Before her removing from Norland, Elinor had painted a very

pretty pair of screens for her sister-in-law, which being now just

mounted and brought home, ornamented her present drawing

room; and these screens, catching the eye of John Dashwood on

his following the other gentlemen into the room, were officiously

handed by him to Colonel Brandon for his admiration.

"These are done by my eldest sister," said he; "and you, as a

man of taste, will, I dare say, be pleased with them. I do not know

whether you have ever happened to see any of her performances

before, but she is in general reckoned to draw extremely well."

The Colonel, though disclaiming all pretensions to

connoisseurship, warmly admired the screens, as he would have

done any thing painted by Miss Dashwood; and on the curiosity of

the others being of course excited, they were handed round for

general inspection. Mrs. Ferrars, not aware of their being Elinor's

work, particularly requested to look at them; and after they had

received gratifying testimony of Lady Middletons's approbation,

Fanny presented them to her mother, considerately informing her,

at the same time, that they were done by Miss Dashwood.

"Hum"―said Mrs. Ferrars―"very pretty,"―and without

regarding them at all, returned them to her daughter.

Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother had been

quite rude enough,―for, colouring a little, she immediately said,

"They are very pretty, ma'am―an't they?" But then again, the

dread of having been too civil, too encouraging herself, probably

came over her, for she presently added,

"Do you not think they are something in Miss Morton's style of

painting, Ma'am?―She does paint most delightfully!―How

beautifully her last landscape is done!"

"Beautifully indeed! But she does every thing well."

Marianne could not bear this.―She was already greatly

displeased with Mrs. Ferrars; and such ill-timed praise of another,

at Elinor's expense, though she had not any notion of what was

principally meant by it, provoked her immediately to say with

warmth,

"This is admiration of a very particular kind!―what is Miss

Morton to us?―who knows, or who cares, for her?―it is Elinor of

whom we think and speak."

And so saying, she took the screens out of her sister-in-law's

hands, to admire them herself as they ought to be admired.

Mrs. Ferrars looked exceedingly angry, and drawing herself up

more stiffly than ever, pronounced in retort this bitter phillippic:

"Miss Morton is Lord Morton's daughter."

Fanny looked very angry too, and her husband was all in a

fright at his sister's audacity. Elinor was much more hurt by

Marianne's warmth than she had been by what produced it; but

Colonel Brandon's eyes, as they were fixed on Marianne, declared

that he noticed only what was amiable in it, the affectionate heart

which could not bear to see a sister slighted in the smallest point.

Marianne's feelings did not stop here. The cold insolence of

Mrs. Ferrars's general behaviour to her sister, seemed, to her, to

foretell such difficulties and distresses to Elinor, as her own

wounded heart taught her to think of with horror; and urged by a

strong impulse of affectionate sensibility, she moved after a

moment, to her sister's chair, and putting one arm round her neck,

and one cheek close to hers, said in a low, but eager, voice,

"Dear, dear Elinor, don't mind them. Don't let them make you

unhappy."

She could say no more; her spirits were quite overcome, and

hiding her face on Elinor's shoulder, she burst into tears. Every

body's attention was called, and almost every body was

concerned.―Colonel Brandon rose up and went to them without

knowing what he did.―Mrs. Jennings, with a very intelligent "Ah!

poor dear," immediately gave her her salts; and Sir John felt so

desperately enraged against the author of this nervous distress,

that he instantly changed his seat to one close by Lucy Steele, and

gave her, in a whisper, a brief account of the whole shocking affair.

In a few minutes, however, Marianne was recovered enough to

put an end to the bustle, and sit down among the rest; though her

spirits retained the impression of what had passed, the whole

evening.

"Poor Marianne!" said her brother to Colonel Brandon, in a low

voice, as soon as he could secure his attention,―"She has not such

good health as her sister,―she is very nervous,―she has not

Elinor's constitution;―and one must allow that there is something

very trying to a young woman who has been a beauty, in the loss of

her personal attractions. You would not think it perhaps, but

Marianne was remarkably handsome a few months ago; quite as

handsome as Elinor.― Now you see it is all gone."
关键字:理智与情感
生词表: