書蟲5級(jí)《理智與情感》2．新家

2. A new home

Mrs Dashwood took great pleasure in informing her stepson and his wife that she had found a house, and that she and her daughters would soon trouble them no longer. Mrs John Dashwood said nothing, but her husband showed some surprise.

I do hope,' he said politely, 'that you will not be far from Norland.'

Mrs Dashwood replied, with a smile, that they were going to Devonshire. Edward Ferrars, who was in the room at the time, turned quickly towards her when he heard this.

Devonshire!' he repeated. 'Are you really going there? So far from here! And to what part, may I ask?'

A place called Barton, four miles north of the city of Exeter,' replied Mrs Dashwood. 'It is only a cottage, but I hope that many of my friends will come to visit me there.' She gave a very kind invitation to Mr and Mrs John Dashwood to visit her at Barton, and to Edward she gave one with even greater affection. Although her recent conversation with her daughter-in-law had made her determined to leave Norland as soon as possible, she did not in the least intend that Edward and Elinor should be separated. By giving such a clear invitation to Edward, she wished to show that her daughter-in-law's disapproval of the attachment between Edward and Elinor had not had the smallest effect.

Mr John Dashwood told his stepmother again and again how extremely sorry he was that she had taken a house so distant from Norland that he could not give her assistance in moving her furniture. He really did feel sorry, because he had decided to limit his promise to his father to this one offer of help, which would not now be of any use.

The furniture was sent to Devonshire by ship; it mainly consisted of sheets, dinner plates, books, and a handsome piano of Marianne's. Mrs John Dashwood was sorry to see the boxes leave; she felt it unnecessary for Mrs Dashwood, who had such a small income, to have any good furniture at all.

Mrs Dashwood took the house, Barton Cottage, for twelve months. It was furnished and ready for them to move into at once. All the necessary arrangements were quickly made. Elinor advised her mother to sell her carriage, which, with the horses, would cost too much to keep, and to limit the number of their servants to three. Two of the servants were sent to Devonshire immediately, to prepare the house for their mistress's arrival.

On his death bed, Henry Dashwood had told his wife of the promise his son had made, and Mrs Dashwood had never doubted that John would keep that promise. Now, as she and her daughters were about to leave Norland, was a most suitable time for him to offer them help. But Mrs Dashwood soon began to lose hope. He so frequently talked of the rising costs of managing his house and land that he seemed in need of more money himself, rather than having any intention of giving money away.

Soon they were ready to depart, and many were the tears that fell during their goodbyes to the home they loved so much. 'Dear, dear Norland!' said Marianne, walking alone in the park on their last evening. 'I shall miss you all my life!'

During the first part of their journey to Devonshire, they were too miserable to notice anything. But when they entered Barton Valley, they became more cheerful, and began to show interest in the countryside that would soon be part of their everyday life. It was a pleasant, green valley, with thick woods and open fields. After driving for more than a mile, they reached their house.

Barton Cottage was well built and in good condition. There were two sitting-rooms downstairs, and four bedrooms and two servants' rooms upstairs. Compared with Norland, it was certainly poor and small, and the girls' tears flowed as they remembered their family home, but they soon dried their eyes and made every effort to be happy.

Mrs Dashwood was, on the whole, very pleased with the house, but she looked forward to making some changes.

We can make ourselves quite comfortable here for the moment,' she said, 'as it is too late in the year to start any building work. To be sure, the house is rather too small for us, but perhaps next year, if I have plenty of money, as I expect I shall, we may think about enlarging the sitting-rooms, and adding a new dining-room and another bedroom. That may be easily done. It is a pity the stairs are not more handsome, but I suppose it would not be difficult to widen them. I shall see how much I have saved in the spring.'

It was not quite clear how all this work could be done from the savings of an income of five hundred a year by a woman who had never saved in her life. So, meanwhile, they were wise enough to accept the house as it was. They spent their first day arranging their things around them, to make themselves a home.

Soon after breakfast the next day, they received a visit from their landlord, the gentleman who owned Barton Cottage. Sir John Middleton was a good-looking, cheerful man of about forty, who seemed really delighted by their arrival. He welcomed them to Barton, offering them anything from his own house and garden, Barton Park, that was lacking at the cottage. He showed a warm interest in their comfort, and hoped that they would meet his own family socially as often as possible. His kindness was not limited to words, because soon after he had left them, a large basket full of fruit and vegetables arrived from the Park, followed by another of meat and fish.

His wife, Lady Middleton, came to visit them the next day. The Dashwoods were, of course, very anxious to see a person on whom so much of their comfort at Barton must depend. Although at first they admired the elegance of her appearance and her manners, they soon realized that she did not have her husband's warmth, or anything of interest to say.

However, there was no lack of conversation, as Lady Middleton had wisely brought her eldest child with her, a fine little boy of about six. As a result, there was always something to talk about; the ladies had to ask his name and age, admire his beauty, and ask him questions which his mother answered for him. A child should be taken on every social call in order to assist conversation. In the present situation it took at least ten minutes to determine whether the boy was most like his father or mother, and why. Everybody thought differently, and everybody was astonished at the opinions of the others.

The Dashwoods would soon be given the chance to discuss the rest of the children, as Sir John had made them promise to have dinner at the Park the next day.

Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. It was a large, handsome house, where the Middletons lived in great comfort. Neither of them had taste, or any interest in books or music. Sir John was a sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother; he could only go shooting for half the year, while his wife was able to spoil her children all year round. He was so hospitable that they almost always had relations or friends staying in the house, but Lady Middleton's main interest lay in the elegance of her table and her domestic arrangements, of which she was extremely proud. Sir John's enjoyment of society was much more real than his wife's; he took delight in collecting about him more young people than his house would hold, and the noisier they were, the better he liked it. Barton Park was famous for its summer parties and excursions, and its winter dances.

Sir John was delighted with Mrs Dashwood and her young, pretty daughters. When they arrived at the Park that evening, he was at the door to welcome them, and repeated several times his concern that he had been unable to get any fashionable young men to meet them. There was, he said, only one gentleman there, a particular friend who was staying at the house, but who was neither very young nor very sociable. He apologized for the smallness of the party, and promised that it would never happen again. Luckily, Lady Middleton's mother had just arrived, and as she was a cheerful, pleasant woman, he hoped the young ladies would not find the evening too dull.

Mrs Jennings, his mother-in-law, was a cheerful, fat, rather vulgar old lady, who laughed and talked a great deal. During dinner she said many amusing things about lovers and husbands, and hoped the Miss Dashwoods had not left their hearts behind them in Sussex. Colonel Brandon, Sir John's particular friend, seemed as different from his friend as Mrs Jennings was from her daughter. He was silent and serious. His appearance, however, was not unpleasing, in spite of his being, in Marianne's and Margaret's opinion, an absolute old bachelor, because he was on the wrong side of thirty-five.

After dinner, Marianne was invited to sing and play the piano. Sir John was loud in his admiration at the end of every song, and as loud in his conversation with others while every song lasted. Lady Middleton frowned at him for talking, but then requested a song which Marianne had just finished. Only Colonel Brandon listened attentively, without any false show of delight. Marianne felt a respect for him that the others, with their lack of taste, did not deserve. He clearly took pleasure in music, although perhaps not with her own depth of feeling. However, she was reasonable enough to accept that a man as old as thirty-five, like the colonel, may well have outlived real feeling and true enjoyment.

Mrs Jennings was a widow, with a comfortable fortune. She had lived to see both her daughters respectably married, and now had nothing to do but to marry off the rest of the world. She spent most of her time planning weddings for all the young people she knew, and was remarkably quick at discovering attachments. Soon after her arrival at Barton, this quickness enabled her to inform the Middletons and the Dashwoods that Colonel Brandon was very much in love with Marianne. She was perfectly sure of it. It would be an excellent marriage, as he was rich and she was handsome. For a long time Mrs Jennings had been eager to get Colonel Brandon well married, and she was always anxious to get a good husband for every pretty girl.

The immediate advantage to herself was that she could make endless jokes against them both. At the cottage she laughed at Marianne, and at the Park she laughed at the colonel. Marianne herself did not know whether to be amused or annoyed.

It is such a silly accusation, mama! And I think it very unfeeling of Mrs Jennings, to laugh so cruelly at old Colonel Brandon. He is old enough to be my father!'

My dear,' said Mrs Dashwood, smiling, 'I cannot think a man five years younger than myself so extremely ancient as he appears to you.'

But mama, really! He must have long outlived any feelings of love by now, if he ever had any when he was younger. When is a man to be safe from such cruel jokes, if age and bodily weakness cannot protect him?'

Bodily weakness!' said Elinor. 'I know that he is older than we are, but surely you must accept that he still has the full use of his arms and legs?'

Did you not hear him complain of having a bad back?'

My dearest child,' said her mother, laughing, 'it must seem to you quite astonishing that my life has lasted to the great age of forty.'

Mama, be serious. I know very well that Colonel Brandon is not old enough for his friends to worry yet about losing him. He may live for another twenty years. But thirty-five should have nothing to do with marriage.'

Perhaps,' said Elinor, 'thirty-five and seventeen had better not have anything to do with marriage together. But a single woman of twenty-seven, for example, could easily consider Colonel Brandon's thirty-five years no disadvantage.'

A woman of twenty-seven,' said Marianne, after a moment's thought, 'can never hope to feel true love again. And if her home is uncomfortable, or her fortune small, I suppose that she could accept the duties of a nurse in order to become a wife. It would be a marriage of convenience, if Colonel Brandon married such a woman. The world would be happy with it, but in my eyes it would be no marriage at all.'

It seems a little hard,' said Elinor reasonably, 'that you consider Colonel Brandon so ill that he is in need of nursing, only because he happened to complain yesterday of a pain in his shoulder. After all, it was a cold, wet day.'

But Marianne's views remained the same. Soon after this, however, when Elinor had left the room, Marianne spoke to her mother with some urgency in her voice.

Mama, I am anxious about Edward Ferrars. I am sure he is ill. We have now been here almost two weeks, and he still has not come to see Elinor.'

My dear, be patient!' answered Mrs Dashwood. 'I did not expect him so soon. And I feel sure Elinor does not expect him either. When we were talking yesterday of a new fireplace for the spare bedroom, she said there was no hurry, as the room would not be needed for some time.'

How strange! What can be the meaning of it? How cold, how calm their last goodbyes were! And Elinor is so self-controlled; she is never sad or restless or miserable. I cannot understand her.'