Sense and Sensibility / Чувство и чувствительность. Уровень 3. Джейн Остин
is enough,” said Mrs. Dashwood; “to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. I love him already.”
“I think you will like him,” said Elinor, “when you know more of him.”
“Like him!” replied her mother with a smile. “I will love him.”
“You may esteem him.”
“I have never known what it was to separate esteem and love.”
Mrs. Dashwood speedily comprehended all his merits. Soon she perceived symptoms of love in his behaviour to Elinor, and she considered their serious attachment as certain. So she looked forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching.
“In a few months, my dear Marianne,” said she, “Elinor will be settled for life. We shall miss her; but she will be happy.”
“Oh! Mama, how shall we live without her?”
“My love, we shall live within a few miles of each other, and shall meet every day. You will gain a brother, a real, affectionate brother. But you look grave, Marianne; do you disapprove your sister’s choice?”
“Perhaps,” said Marianne, “I am surprised. Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly. But yet – he is not the kind of young man – there is something wanting[4]. His figure is not striking; it has none of that grace which I expect in the man who can seriously attach my sister. And besides all this, I am afraid, Mama, he has no real taste. Music seems scarcely to attract him, and though he admires Elinor’s drawings very much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand them. He admires as a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, the characters must be united. I cannot be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must read the same books, the same music must charm us both. Oh! mama, how spiritless, how tame was Edward’s manner in reading to us last night! I wanted to run away. To hear those beautiful lines, pronounced with such calmness, such dreadful indifference!”
Chapter IV
“What a pity it is, Elinor,” said Marianne, “that Edward has no taste for drawing.”
“No taste for drawing!” replied Elinor, “why do you think so? He does not draw himself, indeed, but he has great pleasure in seeing the performances of other people. He distrusts his own judgment, so he is always unwilling to give his opinion on any picture. I hope, Marianne, you do not consider him as deficient in general taste.”
Marianne hardly knew what to say. She did not want to wound the feelings of her sister, and yet to say what she did not believe was impossible. She replied:
“Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your sense of his merits. I have the highest opinion in the world of his goodness and sense. I think him worthy and amiable.”
“I do not perceive,” replied Elinor, with a smile, “how you can express yourself more warmly. Of his sense and his goodness, no one can, I think, be in doubt. He and I have been often together. I have seen a great deal of him, have studied his sentiments and heard his opinion on subjects of literature and taste. I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-informed, enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation correct, and his taste delicate and pure. At first sight, his person can hardly be called handsome, till the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good is perceived. At present, I know him so well, that I think him really handsome; or at least, almost so. And you, Marianne?”
“I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor. When you tell me to love him as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection in his face.”
Elinor started at this declaration. She felt that Edward stood very high in her opinion.
“I do not attempt to deny,” said she, “that I think very highly of him – that I greatly esteem, that I like him.”
“Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment.”
Elinor laughed.
“Excuse me,” said she. “I am by no means assured of his love for me. There are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful. But there are other points to be considered. He is not independent. What his mother really is we cannot know. Edward himself can understand that there will be many difficulties, if he wishes to marry a woman who has not either a great fortune or high rank.”
“And you really are not engaged to him!” said Marianne. “Yet it certainly soon will happen.”
It was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the subject. The longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard. Sometimes she believed it to be no more than friendship.
But his sister was uneasy. She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law on the occasion, talking to her expressively of her brother’s great expectations, of Mrs. Ferrars’s resolution that both her sons could marry very well.
One day a letter was delivered to Mrs. Dashwood. It contained a proposal. It was the offer of a small house, belonging to a relation of her own, a rich gentleman from Devonshire. The letter was from this gentleman himself, and written in the true spirit of friendly accommodation. He understood that she was in need of a dwelling. Though the house he now offered her was merely a cottage, he assured her that everything was good there. He invited her to come with her daughters to Barton Park, the place of his own residence. There she will judge, herself, whether Barton Cottage is comfortable to her. He seemed really anxious to accommodate them and the whole of his letter was written in a friendly style. Her resolution was formed as she read. She instantly wrote Sir John Middleton her acceptance of his proposal; and then hastened to show the letters to her daughters.
Chapter V
Mrs. Dashwood announced to her son-in-law and his wife that she was provided with a house. So she will incommode them no longer than till everything is ready for her inhabiting it. They heard her with surprise. Mrs. John Dashwood said nothing; but her husband hoped that she would settle not far from Norland. She had great satisfaction in replying that she was going into Devonshire. Edward turned hastily towards her and, in a voice of surprise repeated, “Devonshire! Are you, indeed, going there? So far! And to what part of it?”
She explained the situation. It was within four miles northward of Exeter.
“It is a cottage,” she continued, “but I hope to see many of my friends in it. A room or two can easily be added.”
She concluded with a very kind invitation to Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood to visit her at Barton.
Mr. John Dashwood told his mother again and again how exceedingly sorry he was that she had taken a house at such a distance from Norland.
Mrs. Dashwood took the house for a year; it was ready furnished. The servant and one of the maids were sent off immediately into Devonshire, to prepare the house for their mistress’s arrival. In a very few weeks from the day which brought Sir John Middleton’s letter to Norland, everything was settled in their future abode as to enable Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters to begin their journey.
“Dear, dear Norland!” said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the last evening; “when shall I cease to regret you! Who will remain to enjoy you?”
Chapter VI
As a house, Barton Cottage, though small, was comfortable and compact; but as a cottage it was defective, for the roof was tiled, the window shutters were not painted green, nor were the walls covered with honeysuckles. A narrow passage led directly through the house into the garden behind. On each side of the entrance was a sitting room, about sixteen feet square; and beyond them were the offices and the stairs. Four bedrooms and two garrets formed the rest of the house. It had not been built many years and was in good repair. In comparison of Norland, it was poor and small indeed!
It was very early in September; the season was fine. The situation of the house was good. High hills rose immediately behind, and at no great distance on each side.
there is something wanting – чего-то недостаёт