《理智与情感-Sense and Sensibility》中英文对照 余一章QAQ_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《理智与情感-Sense and Sensibility》中英文对照 余一章QAQ

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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Nineteen

Edward remained a week at the cottage; he was earnestly pressed by Mrs. Dashwood to stay longer; but, as if he were bent only on self-mortification, he seemed resolved to be gone when his enjoyment among his friends was at the height. His spirits, during the last two or three days, though still very unequal, were greatly improved- he grew more and more partial to the house and environs- never spoke of going away without a sigh- declared his time to be wholly disengaged- even doubted to what place he should go when he left them- but still, go he must. Never had any week passed so quickly- he could hardly believe it to be gone. He said so repeatedly; other things he said, too, which marked the turn of his feelings, and gave the lie to his actions. He had no pleasure at Norland; lie detested being in town; but either to Norland or London he must go. He valued their kindness beyond any thing, and his greatest happiness was in being with them. Yet, he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of their wishes and his own, and without any restraint on his time.

Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse for every thing strange on the part of her son. Disappointed, however, and vexed as she was, and sometimes displeased with his uncertain behaviour to herself, she was very well disposed on the whole to regard his actions with all the candid allowances and generous qualifications, which had been rather more painfully extorted from her, for Willoughby's service, by her mother. His want of spirits, of openness, and of consistency, were most usually attributed to his want of independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. Ferrars's dispositions and designs. The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose in leaving them, originated in the same fettered inclination, the same inevitable necessity of temporising with his mother. The old well-established grievance of duty against will, parent against child, was the cause of all. She would have been glad to know when these difficulties were to cease, this opposition was to yield,- when Mrs. Ferrars would be reformed, and her son be at liberty to be happy. But from such vain wishes she was forced to turn for comfort to the renewal of her confidence in Edward's affection, to the remembrance of every mark of regard in look or word which fell from him while at Barton, and above all, to that flattering proof of it which he constantly wore round his finger.

"I think, Edward," said Mrs. Dashwood, as they were at breakfast the last morning, "you would be a happier man if you had any profession to engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions. Some inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might result from it- you would not be able to give them so much of your time. But (with a smile) you would be materially benefited in one particular at least- you would know where to go when you left them."

"I do assure you," he replied, "that I have long thought on this point as you think now. It has been, and is, and probably will always be, a heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no necessary business to engage me, no profession to give me employment, or afford me any thing like independence. But unfortunately my own nicety, and the nicety of my friends, have made me what I am, an idle, helpless being. We never could agree in our choice of a profession. I always preferred the church, as I still do. But that was not smart enough for my family. They recommended the army. That was a great deal too smart for me. The law was allowed to be genteel enough: many young men, who had chambers in the Temple, made a very good appearance in the first circles, and drove about town in very knowing gigs. But I had no inclination for the law, even in this less abstruse study of it, which my family approved. As for the navy, it had fashion on its side, but I was too old when the subject was first started to enter it; and, at length, as there was no necessity for my having any profession at all, as I might be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on my back as with one, idleness was pronounced on the whole to be most advantageous and honourable, and a young man of eighteen is not in general so earnestly bent on being busy as to resist the solicitations of his friends to do nothing. I was therefore entered at Oxford, and have been properly idle ever since."

"The consequence of which, I suppose, will be," said Mrs. Dashwood, "since leisure has not promoted your own happiness, that your sons will be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and trades as Columella's."

"They will be brought up," said he, in a serious accent, "to be as unlike myself as is possible. In feeling, in action, in condition, in every thing."

"Come, come; this is all an effusion of immediate want of spirits, Edward. You are in a melancholy humour, and fancy that any one unlike yourself must be happy. But remember that the pain of parting from friends will be felt by every body at times, whatever be their education or state. Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience- or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope. Your mother will secure to you, in time, that independence you are so anxious for; it is her duty, and it will, it must ere long become her happiness to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in discontent. How much may not a few months do?"

"I think," replied Edward, "that I may defy many months to produce any good to me."

This desponding turn of mind, though it could not be communicated to Mrs. Dashwood, gave additional pain to them all in the parting, which shortly took place, and left an uncomfortable impression on Elinor's feelings especially, which required some trouble and time to subdue. But as it was her determination to subdue it, and to prevent herself from appearing to suffer more than what all her family suffered on his going away, she did not adopt the method so judiciously employed by Marianne, on a similar occasion, to augment and fix her sorrow, by seeking silence, solitude, and idleness. Their means were as different as their objects, and equally suited to the advancement of each.

Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he was out of the house, busily employed herself the whole day, neither sought nor avoided the mention of his name, appeared to interest herself almost as much as ever in the general concerns of the family; and if, by this conduct, she did not lessen her own grief, it was at least prevented from unnecessary increase, and her mother and sisters were spared much solicitude on her account.

Such behaviour as this, so exactly the reverse of her own, appeared no more meritorious to Marianne, than her own had seemed faulty to her. The business of self-command she settled very easily:- with strong affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have no merit. That her sister's affections were calm, she dared not deny, though she blushed to acknowledge it; and of the strength of her own, she gave a very striking proof, by still loving and respecting that sister, in spite of this mortifying conviction.

Without shutting herself up from her family, or leaving the house in determined solitude to avoid them, or lying awake the whole night to indulge meditation, Elinor found every day afforded her leisure enough to think of Edward, and of Edward's behaviour, in every possible variety which the different state of her spirits at different times could produce,- with tenderness, pity, approbation, censure, and doubt. There were moments in abundance, when, if not by the absence of her mother and sisters, at least, by the nature of their employments, conversation was forbidden among them, and every effect of solitude was produced. Her mind was inevitably at liberty; her thoughts could not be chained elsewhere; and the past and the future, on a subject so interesting, must be before her, must force her attention, and engross her memory, her reflection, and her fancy.

From a reverie of this kind, as she sat at her drawing-table, she was roused one morning, soon after Edward's leaving them, by the arrival of company. She happened to be quite alone. The closing of the little gate, at the entrance of the green court in front of the house, drew her eyes to the window, and she saw a large party walking up to the door. Amongst them were Sir John and Lady Middleton, and Mrs. Jennings, but there were two others, a gentleman and lady, who were quite unknown to her. She was sitting near the window; and as soon as Sir John perceived her, he left the rest of the party to the ceremony of knocking at the door, and stepping across the turf, obliged her to open the casement to speak to him, though the space was so short between the door and the window as to make it hardly possible to speak at one without being heard at the other.

"Well," said he, "we have brought you some strangers. How do you like them?"

"Hush! they will hear you."

"Never mind if they do. It is only the Palmers. Charlotte is very pretty, I can tell you. You may see her if you look this way."

As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple of minutes, without taking that liberty, she begged to be excused.

"Where is Marianne? Has she run away because we are come? I see her instrument is open."

"She is walking, I believe."

They were now joined by Mrs. Jennings, who had not patience enough to wait till the door was opened before she told her story. She came hallooing to the window, "How do you do, my dear? How does Mrs. Dashwood do? And where are your sisters? What! all alone! you will be glad of a little company to sit with you. I have brought my other son and daughter to see you. Only think of their coming so suddenly! I thought I heard a carriage last night, while we were drinking our tea, but it never entered my head that it could be them. I thought of nothing but whether it might not be Colonel Brandon come back again; so I said to Sir John, I do think I hear a carriage; perhaps it is Colonel Brandon come back again-"

Elinor was obliged to turn from her, in the middle of her story, to receive the rest of the party: Lady Middleton introduced the two strangers; Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came down stairs at the same time, and they all sat down to look at one another, while Mrs. Jennings continued her story as she walked through the passage into the parlour, attended by Sir John.

Mrs. Palmer was several years younger than Lady Middleton, and totally unlike her in every respect. She was short and plump, had a very pretty face, and the finest expression of good humour in it that could possibly be. Her manners were by no means so elegant as her sister's, but they were much more prepossessing. She came in with a smile, smiled all the time of her visit, except when she laughed, and smiled when she went away. Her husband was a grave looking young man of five or six and twenty, with an air of more fashion and sense than his wife, but of less willingness to please or be pleased. He entered the room with a look of self-consequence, slightly bowed to the ladies, without speaking a word, and, after briefly surveying them and their apartments, took up a newspaper from the table, and continued to read it as long as he stayed.

Mrs. Palmer, on the contrary, who was strongly endowed by nature with a turn for being uniformly civil and happy, was hardly seated before her admiration of the parlour and everything in it burst forth.

"Well! what a delightful room this is! I never saw anything so charming! Only think, mamma, how it is improved since I was here last! I always thought it such a sweet place, ma'am! (turning to Mrs. Dashwood) but you have made it so charming! Only look, sister, how delightful everything is! How I should like such a house for myself! Should not you, Mr. Palmer?"

Mr. Palmer made her no answer, and did not even raise his eyes from the newspaper.

"Mr. Palmer does not hear me," said she, laughing; "he never does sometimes. It is so ridiculous!"

This was quite a new idea to Mrs. Dashwood; she had never been used to find wit in the inattention of any one, and could not help looking with surprise at them both.

Mrs. Jennings, in the meantime, talked on as loud as she could, and continued her account of their surprise, the evening before, on seeing their friends, without ceasing till everything was told. Mrs. Palmer laughed heartily at the recollection of their astonishment, and everybody agreed, two or three times over, that it had been quite an agreeable surprise.

"You may believe how glad we all were to see them," added Mrs. Jennings, leaning forward towards Elinor, and speaking in a low voice, as if she meant to be heard by no one else, though they were seated on different sides of the room; "but, however, I can't help wishing they had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of it, for they came all round by London upon account of some business, for you know (nodding significantly and pointing to her daughter) it was wrong in her situation. I wanted her to stay at home and rest this morning, but she would come with us; she longed so much to see you all?"

Mrs. Palmer laughed, and said it would not do her any harm.

"She expects to be confined in February," continued Mrs. Jennings.

Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation, and therefore exerted herself to ask Mr. Palmer if there was any news in the paper.

"No, none at all," he replied, and read on.

"Here comes Marianne," cried Sir John. "Now, Palmer, you shall see a monstrous pretty girl."

He immediately went into the passage, opened the front door, and ushered her in himself. Mrs. Jennings asked her, as soon as she appeared, if she had not been to Allenham; and Mrs. Palmer laughed so heartily at the question, as to show she understood it. Mr. Palmer looked up on her entering the room, stared at her some minutes, and then returned to his newspaper. Mrs. Palmer's eye was now caught by the drawings which hung round the room. She got up to examine them.

"Oh dear, how beautiful these are! Well, how delightful! Do but look, mamma, how sweet! I declare they are quite charming; I could look at them for ever." And then sitting down again, she very soon forgot that there were any such things in the room.

When Lady Middleton rose to go away, Mr. Palmer rose also, laid down the newspaper, stretched himself and looked at them all around.

"My love, have you been asleep?" said his wife, laughing.

He made her no answer; and only observed, after again examining the room, that it was very low pitched, and that the ceiling was crooked. He then made his bow, and departed with the rest.

Sir John had been very urgent with them all to spend the next day at the Park. Mrs. Dashwood, who did not choose to dine with them oftener than they dined at the cottage, absolutely refused on her own account; her daughters might do as they pleased. But they had no curiosity to see how Mr. and Mrs. Palmer ate their dinner, and no expectation of pleasure from them in any other way. They attempted, therefore, likewise, to excuse themselves; the weather was uncertain, and not likely to be good. But Sir John would not be satisfied,- the carriage should be sent for them, and they must come. Lady Middleton, too, though she did not press their mother, pressed them. Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Palmer joined their entreaties,- all seemed equally anxious to avoid a family party; and the young ladies were obliged to yield.

"Why should they ask us?" said Marianne, as soon as they were gone. "The rent of this cottage is said to be low; but we have it on very hard terms, if we are to dine at the Park whenever any one is staying either with them or with us."

"They mean no less to be civil and kind to us now," said Elinor, "by these frequent invitations, than by those which we received from them a few weeks ago. The alteration is not in them, if their parties are grown tedious and dull. We must look for the change elsewhere."



　　爱德华在巴顿乡舍逗留了一个星期。达什伍德太太情真意切地挽留他多住几天。怎奈他好像一心想做苦行僧似的，偏偏在与朋友们相处得最愉快的时候，执意要走。最后两三天，他的情绪虽说依然时高时低，却有很大改观——他越来越喜爱这幢房子及其环境——每当提起要离开总要叹息一声——声称他的时间完全是空闲着的——甚至怀疑走后不知到何处去——但他还是要走。从来没有哪个星期过得这么快——他简直不敢相信已经过去了。他反反复复地这么说着，也还说了其他一些话，表明他感情上起了变化，先前的行动都是虚假的。他在诺兰庄园并不感到愉快，他讨厌住在城里，但是他这一走，不是去诺兰庄园，就要去伦敦。他无比珍惜她们的一片好心，他的最大幸福就是同她们呆在一起。然而，一周过去他还是要走，尽管她们和他本人都不希望他走，尽管他没有任何时间限制。
　　埃丽诺把他这些令人惊讶的行动完全归咎于他的母亲。使她感到庆幸的是，他能有这样一位母亲，她的脾性她不甚了解，爱德华一有什么莫名其妙的事情，就可以到她那里找借口。不过，虽然她失望、苦恼，有时还为他待自己反复无常而生气，但是一般说来，她对他的行为总是坦率地加以开脱，宽宏大量地为之辩解。想当初，她母亲劝说她对威洛比采取同样的态度时，可就费劲多了。爱德华的情绪低落、不够坦率和反复无常，通常被归因于他的不能独立自主，归因于他深知费拉斯太太的脾气和心机。他才住了这么几天就一味地坚持要走，其原因同样在于他不能随心所欲，在于他不得不顺从他母亲的意志。意愿服从义务、子女服从父母的冤情古已有之，根深蒂固，实属万恶之源。她很想知道，这些苦难什么时候能结束，这种对抗什么时候能休止－－费拉斯太太什么时候能张望改邪归正，她儿子什么时候能得到自由和幸福。不过，这都是些痴心妄想，为了安慰自己，她不得不转而重新相信爱德华对她一片钟情，回想起他在巴顿逗留期间，在神色和言谈上对她流露出来的任何一点爱幕之情，特别是他时时刻刻戴在手指上的那件信物，更加使她洋洋得意。
　　最后一个早晨，大家在一起吃早饭的时候，达什伍德太太说：“爱德华，我觉得，你若是有个职业干干，给你的计划和行动增添点兴味，那样你就会成为一个更加快乐的人儿。的确，这会给你的朋友们带来某些不便－－你将不可能把很多时间花在他们身上。不过”（微笑地说）“这一点起码对你会大有裨益－－就是你离开他们时能知道往哪里去。”
　　“说实在的，”爱德华回答说，“我在这个问题上考虑了好久。我没有必要的事务缠身，没有什么职业可以从事，也不能使我获得一点自立，这无论在过去、现在或将来，永远是我的一大不幸。遗憾的是，我自已的挑剔和朋友们的挑剔，使我落到现在这个样子，变成一个游手好闲、不能自立的人。我们在选择职业上从来达不成一致意见。我总是喜爱牧师这个职务，现在仍然如此。可是我家里的人觉得那不合时尚。他们建议我参加陆军，可那又太衣冠楚楚了，非我所能。做律师被认为是很体面的职业。不少年轻人在法学协会里设有办公室，经常在上流社会抛头露面，乘着十分时鬓的双轻轻便马车在城里兜来兜去。但是我不想做律师，即使像我家里的人主张的那样不求深入地研究一下法律，我也不愿意。至于海军，倒挺时髦，可是当这事第一次提到议事日程上时，我已经年龄太大。最后，因为没有必要让我非找个职业不可，因为我身上穿不穿红制服都会同样神气，同样奢华，于是，整个来说，无所事事便被断定为最有利、最体面。一般说来，一个十八岁的年轻人并不真想忙忙碌碌的，朋友们都劝我什么事情也别干，我岂能拒不接受？于是我被送进牛津大学，从此便真正无所事事了。”
　　“我想，这就会带来一个后果，”达什伍德太太说，“既然游手好闲并没有促进你的幸福，你要培养你的儿子和卢米拉的儿子一样，从事许多工作、许多职业和许多行业。”
　　“我将培养他们，”他带着一本正经的口气说道，“尽量不像我——感情上、行动上、身份上，一切都不像我。”
　　“得啦，得啦，爱德华，这只不过是你目前意气消沉的流露。你心情抑郁，以为凡是和你不一样的人一定都很幸福。可是你别忘记，有时候与朋友离别的痛苦谁都感觉得到，不管他们的教养和地位如何。你要看到自己的幸福。你只需要有耐心——或者说得动听一些，把它称之为希望。你渴望独立，你母亲总有一天会成全你的。这是她的义务，现在是，将来还是。过不了多久，她就会把不让你忧郁不乐地虚度青春视为她的幸福。几个月的工夫会带来多大的变化啊！”
　　“依我看，”爱德华回答，“再过多少个月也不会给我带来任何好处。”
　　他的这沮种丧心情虽然难以向达什伍德太太言传，却在接踵而来的分别之际，给她们大家带来了更多的痛苦。特别是给埃丽诺留下的痛苦，需要付出很大努力，花费很长时间，才能加以克服。不过，她决心克制住这预感情，在爱德华走后不要显得比其他人更难过，因此她没有采取玛丽安在同样情况下采取的审慎办法：一个人闷声不响、无所事事地呆着，结果搞得越来越伤心。她们的目标不同，方法各异，但都同样达到了各自的目的。
　　爱德华一走，埃丽诺便坐到画桌前，整天忙个不停，既不主动，提起他的名字，也不有意避而不提，对于家里的日常事务几乎像以前一样关心。如果说她这样做并未减少她的痛苦，至少没有使痛苦无谓地增长起来，这就给母亲和妹妹们免除了不少忧虑。
　　玛丽安觉得，就如同她自己的行为不见得错到哪里一样，她姐姐的行为纵使与她的行为截然相反，也不见得值得称赞。如何看待自我克制，她觉得是再容易不过的：若是感情强烈的话，这是不可能的；要是心情镇定的话，也没有什么好称道的。她不敢否认她姐姐的心情确实是镇定的，虽然她羞于承认这一点。她自己感情之强烈，已表现得十分明显，因为她仍然喜爱和尊重她那位姐姐，尽管这事有些恼人。
　　埃丽诺虽然没有把自己同家里的人隔离开来，没有执意避开她们独自走出家门，也没有彻夜不眠地冥思苦想，但她每天都有些闲暇思念一番爱德华，回顾一下他的一举一动，而且在不同的时间，由于心境不同，采取的方式也不尽相同：有温柔，有怜惜，有赞同，有责怪，有疑虑，真是应有尽有。也有不少时候，如果不是因为母亲和妹妹们不在跟前，至少是因为她们在忙碌什么要紧事，大伙儿不能交谈，那么孤独的效果就要充分显现出来。她的思想必然要自由驰骋，不过她也不会往别处想。这是如此富有情趣的一个问题，其过去和未来的情景总要浮现在她的眼前，引起她的注意，激起她的回想、遐想和幻想。
　　爱德华离去不久的一天早晨，她正坐在画桌前出神，不料来了客人，打断了她的沉思。碰巧只她一个人在家，一听到屋前绿茵庭院入口处的小门给关上了，便抬眼向窗口望去，看见一大伙人朝房门口走来。来客中有约翰爵士、米德尔顿夫人和詹宁斯太太；此外还有两个人，一男一女，她从未见过，她坐在窗口附近，约翰爵士一发觉她，便让别人去敲门，他径自穿过草坪，埃丽诺只好打开窗子同他说话。其实门口与窗口之间距离很近，站在一处说话另一处不可能听不到。
　　“喂，”爵士说，“我给你们带来了两位稀客。你喜欢他们吗？”
　　“嘘！他们会听见的。”
　　“听见也没关系。只是帕尔默夫妇。我可以告诉你，夏洛特很漂亮。你从这里看去，能看见她。”
　　埃丽诺知道过一会儿就能看到她，便没有贸然行事，请他原谅。
　　“玛丽安哪儿去了？是不是见我们来了溜走啦？我看见她的钢琴还打开着。”
　　“想必是在散步。”
　　这时，詹宁斯太太凑了过来。她实在忍不住了，等不及开门后再叙说她的一肚子话，便走过来冲着窗口吆喝起来：“你好啊，亲爱的？达什伍德太太好吗？你两个妹妹哪几去啦？什么！只你一个人！你一定欢迎有人陪你坐坐。我把我另一对女婿女儿领来看望你啦。你只要想想他们来得多么突然啊！昨晚喝茶的时候，我觉得听见了马车的声音，但我万万没有想到会是他俩。我只想到说不定是布兰登上校又回来了。于是我对约翰爵士说：‘我肯定听见了马车的声音，也许是布兰登上校又回来了——’
　　听她讲到一半的时候，埃丽诺只好转身欢迎其他人。米德尔顿夫人介绍了两位稀客。这时，达什伍德太太和玛格丽特走下楼来，大家坐定，你看看我，我瞧瞧你。詹宁斯太太由约翰爵士陪伴，从走廊走进客厅，一边走一边继续絮叨她的故事。
　　帕尔默夫人比米德尔顿夫人小好几岁，各方面都和她截然不同。她又矮又胖，长着一副十分漂亮的面孔，喜气盈盈的，要多好看有多好看。她的仪态远远没有她姐姐来得优雅，不过却更有魅力。她笑吟吟地走了进来——整个拜访期间都是笑吟吟的（只有哈哈大笑的时候例外），离开的时候也是笑吟吟的。她丈夫是个不苟言笑的年轻人，二十五六岁，看那气派，比他妻子更入时、更有见识，但不像她那样爱讨好人，爱叫人奉承。他带着妄自尊大的神气走进房来，一声不响地向女士们微微点了下头，然后迅速把众人和房间打量了一番，便拿起桌上的一张报纸，一直阅读到离开为止。
　　帕尔默夫人恰恰相反，天生的热烈性子，始终客客气气、快快活活的，屁股还没坐定就对客厅和里面的每件陈设啧啧称赞起来。
　　“哦：多惬意的房子啊！我从没见过这么漂亮的房子：妈妈，你想想看，自我最后一次到这儿以来，变化有多大啊！我总认为这是一个宜人的地方，太太，”（转向达什伍德太太）“你把它装点得这么漂亮！你看看，姐姐，一切布置得多么可人意啊！我多么希望自己能有这样一座房子。你难道不希望吗，帕尔默先生？”
　　帕尔默先生没有理睬她，甚至连视线都没离开报纸。
　　“帕尔默先生没听见我的话，”她一边说一边笑，“他有时候一点也听不见。真够滑稽的！”
　　这事在达什伍德太太看来还真够新鲜的。她以前从没发现什么人漫不经心时也能这么富有情趣，因此禁不住惊讶地看着他们俩。
　　与此同时，詹宁斯太太放开嗓门谈个不停，继续介绍他们头天晚上意外地见到他们的朋友的情景，直至点滴不漏地讲完了方才罢休。帕尔默夫人一想起当时大家惊愕的样子，忍不住开心地哈哈大笑起来。大家一致表示了两三次：这的确令人喜出望外。
　　“你们可以相信，我们见到他俩有多高兴啊，”詹宁斯太太补充说。她向前朝埃丽诺探着身子，说话时声音放得很低，好像不想让别人听见似的，其实她俩分坐在房间的两边。“不过，我还是希望他们路上不要赶得这么急，不要跑这么远的路，因为他们有点事儿，经由伦敦绕道而来。你们知道，”（她意味深长地点点头，拿手指着她女儿）“她身子不方便。我要她上午呆在家里好好歇歇，可她偏要跟我们一道来。她多么渴望见见你们一家人！”
　　帕尔默夫人哈哈一笑，说这并不碍事。
　　“她二月份就要分娩，”詹宁斯太太接着说。
　　米德尔顿夫人再也忍受不了这种谈话了，因此便硬着头皮问帕尔默先生：报上有没有什么消息。
　　“没有，一点没有，”他答道，然后又继续往下看。
　　“噢，玛丽安来了，”约翰爵士嚷道，“帕尔默，你要见到一位绝世佳人啦。”
　　他当即走进走廊，打开正门，亲自把玛丽安迎进房来。玛丽安一露面，詹宁斯太太就问她是不是去艾伦汉了。帕尔默夫人听到这句问话，禁不住纵情大笑起来，以表示她明白其中的奥妙。帕尔默先生见玛丽安走进屋里，便抬起头来凝视了几分钟，然后又回头看他的报纸。这时，四面墙上挂着的图画引起了帕尔默夫入的注意。她起身仔细观赏起来。
　　“哦！天哪，多美的画儿！嘿，多赏心悦目啊：快看呀，妈妈，多惹人喜欢啊！你们听我说吧，这些画儿可真迷人，真叫我一辈子都看不厌。”说罢又坐了下来，转眼间就把室内有画儿的事情忘得一干二净。
　　米德尔顿夫人起身告辞的时候，帕尔默先生也跟着站起来，搁下报纸，伸伸懒腰，然后环视了一下众人。
　　“我的宝贝，你睡着了吧？”他妻子边说边哈哈大笑。
　　做丈夫的没有理睬她，只是又审视这房间，说天花板很低，而且有点歪。然后点了下头，跟其他客人一起告辞而去。
　　约翰爵士一定要达什伍德母女次日到他家作客。达什伍德太太不愿意使自己到他们那儿吃饭的次数，超过他们来乡舍吃饭的次数，于是她自己断然谢绝了，女儿们去不去随她们的便。但是，女儿们并无兴致观看帕尔默夫妇如何吃晚饭，也不指望他们能带来任何别的乐趣，因此同样婉言谢绝了，说什么天气反复无常，不见得会晴朗。可是约翰爵士说什么也不依——他会派车来接的，一定要她们去。米德尔顿夫人虽然没有勉强达什伍德太太，却硬叫她的女儿们非去不可。詹宁斯太太和帕尔默夫人也跟着一起恳求，好似一个个都急切希望不要搞成一次家庭聚会，达什伍德家小姐们无可奈何，只好让步。
　　“他们为什么要邀请我们？”客人们一走，玛丽安便问道。“我们的房租据说比较低。不过，要是不管什么时候我们两家来了客人，我们都要到他家去吃饭的话，那么住在这里条件也够苛刻的。”
　　“和几周前我们接受他们的频繁邀请相比，”埃丽诺说，“现在，他们不见得有什么不客气、不友好的意图。要是他们的宴会变得越来越索然乏味，那变化倒不在他们身上。我们必须到别处寻找变化。”
  


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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Twenty

As the Misses Dashwood entered the drawing room of the Park the next day, at one door, Mrs. Palmer came running in at the other, looking as good humoured and merry as before. She took them all most affectionately by the hand, and expressed great delight in seeing them again.

"I am so glad to see you!" said she, seating herself between Elinor and Marianne; "for it is so bad a day I was afraid you might not come, which would be a shocking thing, as we go away again to-morrow. We must go, for the Westons come to us next week, you know. It was quite a sudden thing our coming at all; and I knew nothing of it till the carriage was coming to the door, and then Mr. Palmer asked me if I would go with him to Barton. He is so droll! He never tells me any thing! I am so sorry we cannot stay longer; however we shall meet again in town very soon, I hope."

They were obliged to put an end to such an expectation.

"Not go to town!" cried Mrs. Palmer, with a laugh; "I shall be quite disappointed if you do not. I could get the nicest house in world for you, next door to ours, in Hanover Square. You must come, indeed. I am sure I shall be very happy to chaperon you at any time till I am confined, if Mrs. Dashwood should not like to go into public."

They thanked her; but were obliged to resist all her entreaties.

"Oh, my love," cried Mrs. Palmer to her husband, who just then entered the room, "you must help me to persuade the Misses Dashwood to go to town this winter."

Her love made no answer; and after slightly bowing to the ladies, began complaining of the weather.

"How horrid all this is!" said he. "Such weather makes everything and everybody disgusting. Dullness is as much produced within doors as without, by rain. It makes one detest all one's acquaintance. What the devil does Sir John mean by not having a billiard room in his house? How few people know what comfort is! Sir John is as stupid as the weather."

The rest of the company soon dropped in.

"I am afraid, Miss Marianne," said Sir John, "you have not been able to take your usual walk to Allenham to-day."

Marianne looked very grave, and said nothing.

"Oh, don't be so sly before us," said Mrs. Palmer; "for we know all about it, I assure you; and I admire your taste very much, for I think he is extremely handsome. We do not live a great way from him in the country, you know. Not above ten miles, I dare say."

"Much nearer thirty," said her husband.

"Ah, well! there is not much difference. I never was at his house; but they say it is a sweet, pretty place."

"As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life," said Mr. Palmer.

Marianne remained perfectly silent, though her countenance betrayed her interest in what was said.

"Is it very ugly?" continued Mrs. Palmer;- "then it must be some other place that is so pretty, I suppose."

When they were seated in the dining-room, Sir John observed with regret that they were only eight all together.

"My dear," said he to his lady, "it is very provoking that we should be so few. Why did not you ask the Gilberts to come to us to-day?"

"Did not I tell you, Sir John, when you spoke to me about it before, that it could not be done? They dined with us last."

"You and I, Sir John," said Mrs. Jennings, "should not stand upon such ceremony."

"Then you would be very ill-bred," cried Mr. Palmer.

"My love you contradict everybody," said his wife with her usual laugh. "Do you know that you are quite rude?"

"I did not know I contradicted anybody in calling your mother ill- bred."

"Ay, you may abuse me as you please," said the good-natured old lady; "you have taken Charlotte off my hands, and cannot give her back again. So there I have the whip hand of you."

Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her husband could not get rid of her; and exultingly said, she did not care how cross he was to her, as they must live together. It was impossible for any one to be more thoroughly good-natured, or more determined to be happy, than Mrs. Palmer. The studied indifference, insolence, and discontent of her husband gave her no pain; and when he scolded or abused her, she was highly diverted.

"Mr. Palmer is so droll!" said she, in a whisper, to Elinor. "He is always out of humour."

Elinor was not inclined, after a little observation, to give him credit for being so genuinely and unaffectedly ill-natured or ill-bred as he wished to appear. His temper might perhaps be a little soured by finding, like many others of his sex, that through some unaccountable bias in favour of beauty, he was the husband of a very silly woman,- but she knew that this kind of blunder was too common for any sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it. It was rather a wish of distinction, she believed, which produced his contemptuous treatment of everybody, and his general abuse of everything before him. It was the desire of appearing superior to other people. The motive was too common to be wondered at; but the means, however they might succeed by establishing his superiority in ill-breeding, were not likely to attach any one to him except his wife.

"Oh, my dear Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Palmer soon afterwards, "I have got such a favour to ask of you and your sister. Will you come and spend some time at Cleveland this Christmas? Now, pray do,- and come while the Westons are with us. You cannot think how happy I shall be! It will be quite delightful!- My love," applying to her husband, "don't you long to have the Misses Dashwood come to Cleveland?"

"Certainly," he replied, with a sneer; "I came into Devonshire with no other view."

"There now," said his lady, "you see Mr. Palmer expects you; so you cannot refuse to come."

They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation.

"But indeed you must and shall come. I am sure you will like it of all things. The Westons will be with us, and it will be quite delightful. You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is; and we are so gay now, for Mr. Palmer is always going about the country canvassing against the election; and so many people came to dine with us that I never saw before, it is quite charming! But, poor fellow! it is very fatiguing to him, for he is forced to make every body like him."

Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she assented to the hardship of such an obligation.

"How charming it will be," said Charlotte, "when he is in Parliament!- won't it? How I shall laugh! It will be so ridiculous to see all his letters directed to him with an M.P. But do you know, he says, he will never frank for me? He declares he won't. Don't you, Mr. Palmer?"

Mr. Palmer took no notice of her.

"He cannot bear writing, you know," she continued; "he says it is quite shocking."

"No," said he, "I never said any thing so irrational. Don't palm all your abuses of languages upon me."

"There now; you see how droll he is. This is always the way with him! Sometimes he won't speak to me for half a day together, and then he comes out with something so droll- all about any thing in the world."

She surprised Elinor very much as they returned into the drawing- room, by asking her whether she did not like Mr. Palmer excessively.

"Certainly," said Elinor; "he seems very agreeable."

"Well, I am so glad you do. I thought you would, he is so pleasant; and Mr. Palmer is excessively pleased with you and your sisters, I can tell you; and you can't think how disappointed he will be if you don't come to Cleveland. I can't imagine why you should object to it."

Elinor was again obliged to decline her invitation; and, by changing the subject, put a stop to her entreaties. She thought it probable that as they lived in the same county, Mrs. Palmer might be able to give some more particular account of Willoughby's general character than could be gathered from the Middletons' partial acquaintance with him; and she was eager to gain from any one such a confirmation of his merits as might remove the possibility of fear from Marianne. She began by enquiring if they saw much of Mr. Willoughby at Cleveland, and whether they were intimately acquainted with him.

"Oh dear, yes; I know him extremely well," replied Mrs. Palmer;- "not that I ever spoke to him, indeed; but I have seen him for ever in town. Some how or other I never happened to be staying at Barton while he was at Allenham. Mamma saw him here once before; but I was with my uncle at Weymouth. However, I dare say we should have seen a great deal of him in Somersetshire, if it had not happened very unluckily that we should never have been in the country together. He is very little at Combe, I believe; but if he were ever so much there, I do not think Mr. Palmer would visit him, for he is in the opposition, you know, and besides it is such a way off. I know why you enquire about him, very well; your sister is to marry him. I am monstrous glad of it, for then I shall have her for a neighbour you know."

"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "you know much more of the matter than I do, if you have any reason to expect such a match."

"Don't pretend to deny it, because you know it is what every body talks of. I assure you I heard of it in my way through town."

"My dear Mrs. Palmer!"

"Upon my honour I did. I met Colonel Brandon Monday morning in Bond Street, just before we left town, and he told me of it directly."

"You surprise me very much. Colonel Brandon tell you of it! Surely you must be mistaken. To give such intelligence to a person who could not be interested in it, even if it were true, is not what I should expect Colonel Brandon to do."

"But I do assure you it was so, for all that, and I will tell you how it happened. When we met him, he turned back and walked with us; and so we began talking of my brother and sister, and one thing and another, and I said to him, 'So, Colonel, there is a new family come to Barton cottage, I hear, and mamma sends me word they are very pretty, and that one of them is going to be married to Mr. Willoughby of Combe Magna. Is it true, pray? for of course you must know, as you have been in Devonshire so lately.'"

"And what did the Colonel say?"

"Oh, he did not say much; but he looked as if he knew it to be true, so from that moment I set it down as certain. It will be quite delightful, I declare. When is it to take place?"

"Mr. Brandon was very well, I hope?"

"Oh, yes, quite well; and so full of your praises, he did nothing but say fine things of you."

"I am flattered by his commendation. He seems an excellent man; and I think him uncommonly pleasing."

"So do I. He is such a charming man, that it is quite a pity he should be so grave and so dull. Mamma says he was in love with your sister too. I assure you it was a great compliment if he was, for he hardly ever falls in love with any body."

"Is Mr. Willoughby much known in your part of Somersetshire?" said Elinor.

"Oh, yes, extremely well; that is, I do not believe many people are acquainted with him, because Combe Magna is so far off; but they all think him extremely agreeable, I assure you. Nobody is more liked than Mr. Willoughby wherever he goes, and so you may tell your sister. She is a monstrous lucky girl to get him, upon my honour; not but that he is much more lucky in getting her, because she is so very handsome and agreeable, that nothing can be good enough for her. However, I don't think her hardly at all handsomer than you, I assure you; for I think you both excessively pretty, and so does Mr. Palmer too, I am sure, though we could not get him to own it last night."

Mrs. Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was not very material; but any testimony in his favour, however small was pleasing to her.

"I am so glad we are got acquainted at last," continued Charlotte. "And now I hope we shall always be great friends. You can't think how much I longed to see you. It is so delightful that you should live at the cottage. Nothing can be like it, to be sure. And I am so glad your sister is going to be well married. I hope you will be a great deal at Combe Magna. It is a sweet place, by all accounts."

"You have been long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have not you?"

"Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married. He was a particular friend of Sir John's. I believe," she added, in a low voice, "he would have been very glad to have had me, if he could. Sir John and Lady Middleton wished it very much. But mamma did not think the match good enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have mentioned it to the Colonel, and we should have been married immediately."

"Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's proposal to your mother before it was made? Had he never owned his affection to yourself?"

"Oh, no; but if mamma had not objected to it, I dare say he would have liked it of all things. He had not seen me then above twice, for it was before I left school. However, I am much happier as I am. Mr. Palmer is the kind of man I like."



　　第二天，当达什伍德家三位小姐从一道门走进巴顿庄园客厅时，帕尔默夫人从另一道门跑了进来，和以前一样兴高采烈。她不胜亲呢地抓住她们的手，对再次见到她们深表高兴。
　　“见到你们真高兴！”她说，一面在埃丽诺和玛丽安中间坐下，“天气不好，我还真怕你们不来了呢，那样该有多糟糕啊，因为我们明天就要离开。我们一定要走，因为韦斯顿夫妇下礼拜要来看我们，知道吗？我们来得太突然，马车停到门口我还不知道呢，只听帕尔默先生问我：愿不愿意和他一道去巴顿。他真滑稽！干什么事都不告诉我：很抱歉，我们不能多呆些日子。不过，我希望我们能很快在城里再见面。”
　　她们只得让她打消这个指望。
　　“不进城！”帕尔默夫人笑着嚷道。“你们若是不去，我可要大失所望啦。我可以在我们隔壁给你们找个天下最舒适的房子，就在汉诺佛广场。你们无论如何也要来。如果达什伍德太太不愿抛头露面的话，我一定乐于随时陪着你们，直到我分娩的时候为止。”
　　她们向她道谢，但是又不得不拒绝她的一再恳求。
　　“哦，我的宝贝，”帕尔默夫人对恰在这时走进房来的丈夫喊叫道，“你要帮我劝说几位达什伍德小姐今年冬天进城去。”
　　她的宝贝没有回答。他向小姐们微微点了点头，随即抱怨起天气来。
　　“真讨厌透顶！”他说。“这天气搞得每件事、每个人都那么令人厌恶。天一下雨，室内室外都一样单调乏味，使人对自己的相识全都厌恶起来。约翰爵士到底是什么意思，家里也不辟个弹子房？会享受的人怎么这么少！约翰爵士就像这天气一样无聊。”
　　转眼间，其他人也走进咨厅。
　　“玛丽安，”约翰爵士说，“你恐怕今天没能照例去艾伦汉散步啊。”
　　玛丽安板着面孔，一言不发。
　　“嗨！别在我们面前躲躲闪闪的，”帕尔默夫人说，“说实在的，我们什么都知道了。我很钦佩你的眼光，我觉得他漂亮极了。你知道，我们乡下的住处离他家不很远，大概不超过十英里。”
　　“都快三十英里啦，”她丈夫说。
　　“哎！这没有多大差别。我从未去过他家，不过大家都说，那是个十分优美的地方。”
　　“是我生平见到的最糟糕的地方，”帕尔默先生说。
　　玛丽安仍然一声不响，虽然从她的面部表情可以看出，她对他们的谈活内容很感兴趣。
　　“非常糟糕吗？”帕尔默夫人接着说，“那么，那个十分优美的地方准是别的住宅啦。”
　　当大家在餐厅坐定以后，约翰爵士遗憾地说，他们总共只有八个人。
　　“我亲爱的，”他对他夫人说，“就这么几个人，太令人扫兴了。你怎么今天不请吉尔伯特夫妇来？”
　　“约翰爵士，你先前对我说起这件事的时候，难道我没告诉你不能再请他们了？他们上次刚同我们吃过饭。”
　　“约翰爵士，”詹宁斯太太说，“你我不要太拘泥礼节了。”
　　“那样你就太缺乏教养啦，”帕尔默先生嚷道。
　　“我的宝贝，你跟谁都过不去，”他妻子说，一面像通常那样哈哈一笑。“你知道你很鲁莽无礼吗？”
　　“我不知道说一声你母亲缺乏教养，就是跟谁过不去。”
　　“啊，你爱怎么骂我就怎么骂我好啦，”那位温厚的老太太说道。“你从我手里夺走了夏洛特，现在想退也退不了。所以，你已经被捏在我的掌心里啦。”
　　夏洛特一想到她丈夫摆脱不了她，不由得纵情地笑了起来，然后自鸣得意地说：她并不在乎丈夫对她有多粗暴，因为他们总得生活在一起。谁也不可能像帕尔默夫人那样绝对和和气气，始终欢欢乐乐。她丈夫故意冷落她，傲视她，嫌弃她，都不曾给她带来任何痛苦；他申斥她、辱骂她的时候，她反而感到其乐无穷。
　　“帕尔默先生真滑稽！”她对埃丽诺小声说。“他总是闷闷不乐。”
　　埃丽诺经过一段短暂的观察，并不相信帕尔默先生真像他想表露的那样脾气不好，缺乏教养。也许他像许多男人一样，由于对美貌抱有莫名其妙的偏爱，结果娶了一个愚不可及的女人，这就使他的脾气变得有点乖戾了＿＿不过她知道，这种错误太司空见惯了，凡是有点理智的人都不会没完没了地痛苦下去。她以为，他大概是一心想出人头地，才那样鄙视一切人，非难眼前的一切事物。这是一心想表现得高人一等。这种动机十分普通，不足为怪。可是方法则不然，尽管可以使他在缺乏教养上高人一等，却不可能使任何人喜爱他，只有他的妻子例外。
　　“哦！亲爱的达什伍德小姐，”帕尔默夫人随后说道，“我要请你和妹妹赏光，今年圣诞节来克利夫兰住些日子。真的，请赏光——趁韦斯顿夫妇在作客的时候来。你想象不到我会多高兴！那一定快乐极了！我的宝贝，”她求情于她丈夫，“难道你不希望达什伍德小姐们去克利夫兰？”
　　“当然希望，”丈夫讪笑着说，“我来德文郡别无其他目的。”
　　“你瞧，”她的夫人说道，“帕尔默先生期待你脽外临，你们可不能拒绝呀。”
　　她们急切而坚决地拒绝了她的邀请。
　　“说真的，你们无论如何也要来。你们肯定会喜欢得不得了。韦斯顿夫妇要来作客，快乐极了。你想象不到克利夫兰是个多么可爱的地方。我们现在可开心啦，因为帕尔默先生总是四处奔走，作竞选演说，好多人我见都没见过，也来我们家吃饭，好开心啊！不过，可怜的家伙！他也真够疲劳的！因为他要取悦每一个人。”
　　埃丽诺对这项职责的艰巨性表示同意时，简直有点忍不住笑。
　　“他若是进了议会，”夏洛特说，“那该有多开心啊！是吧？我要笑开怀啦！看到寄给他的信上都盖着，‘下院议员’的邮戳，那该有多滑稽啊！不过你知道，他说他决不会给我签发免费信件的。他宣布决不这么干！是吧，帕尔默先生？”
　　帕尔默先生并不理睬她。
　　“你知道，让他写信他可受不了，”夏洛特接着说，“他说那太令人厌烦。”
　　“不，”帕尔默先生说，“我从没说过这么荒谬的话。不要把你那些凌辱性的语言都强加到我头上。”
　　“你瞧，他有多滑稽。他总是这个样子！有时候，他能一连半天不和我说话，然后突然蹦出几句滑稽话语来——天南海北的什么都有。”
　　一回到客厅，夏洛特便问埃丽诺是不是极其喜欢帕尔默先生，使埃丽诺大吃一惊。
　　“当然喜欢，”埃丽诺说，“他看上去非常谦和。”
　　“哦一—你喜欢他，我真高兴，我知道你会喜欢他的，他是那样和气。我可以告诉你，帕尔默先生极其喜欢你和你两个妹妹。你想象不到，你们若是不去克利夫兰，他会多么失望。我无法想象你们怎么会拒绝。”
　　埃丽诺只好再次谢绝她的邀请，并且趁机转了话题，结束了她的恳求。她觉得，帕尔默夫人与威洛比既然是同乡，或许能具体地介绍一下他的整个为人，而不只是米德尔顿夫妇那点一鳞半爪的材料。她热切地希望有人来证实一番他的优点，以解除她对玛丽安的忧虑。她开头先问他们是不是在克利夫兰常常见到威洛比，是不是与他交情很深。
　　“哦！亲爱的，是的，我极其了解他，”帕尔默夫人回答，“说真的，我倒没同他说过话。不过我在城里总是见到他。不知道为什么，他去艾伦汉的时候，我一次也没赶上呆在巴顿。我母亲过去在这里见过他一次，可我跟舅舅住在韦默思。不过我敢说，若不是因为我们不巧一次也没一起回乡的话，我们在萨默塞特郡一定会常见到他的。我想他很少去库姆。不过，即使他常去那里，我想帕尔默先生也不会去拜访他的，因为你知道他是反对党的，况且又离得那么远。我很清楚你为什么打听他，你妹妹要嫁给他。我高兴死了，因为她要做我的邻居啦，懂吗？”
　　“说老实话，”埃丽诺回答说，“你若是有把握期待这门婚事的话，那么你就比我更知情了。”
　　“不要故作不知啦，因为你知道这是大家都在纷纷议论的事情。说实在的，我是路过城里时听到的。”
　　“我亲爱的帕尔默夫人！”
　　“我以名誉担保，我的确听说了。星期一早晨，在邦德街，就在我们离城之前，我遇到了布兰登上校，他直截了当告诉我的。”
　　“你让我大吃一惊。布兰登上校会告诉你这种事儿！你准是搞错了。我不相信布兰登上校会把这种消息告诉一个与之无关的人，即使这消息是真实的。”
　　“尽管如此，我向你保证确有其事，我可以把事情的来龙去脉讲给你听听。我们遇见他的时候，他转回身和我们一道走着。我们谈起了我姐姐和我姐夫，一件件地谈论着。这时我对他说：“对了，上校，我听说有一户人家新近住进了巴顿乡舍，我母亲来信说她们长得很漂亮，还说有一位就要嫁给库姆大厦的威洛比先生。请问，是不是真有其事？你当然应该知道啦，因为你不久前还呆在德文郡。”
　　“上校怎么说的？”
　　“噢，他没说多少话。不过看他那神气，他好像知道确有其事，于是从那时起，我就确信无疑了。我敢断言，这是件大喜事!什么时候办呀？”
　　“我希望，布兰登先生还好吧？”
　　“哦！是的，相当好。他对你推崇备至，一个劲儿称赞你。”
　　“受到他的赞扬，我感到荣幸。他似乎是个极好的人，我觉得他异常可爱。”
　　“我也这么觉得。他是个可爱的人，可惜太严肃、太刻板了。我母亲说，他也爱上了你妹妹。说实话，他若是真爱上你妹妹，那可是极大的面子，因为他难得爱上什么人。”“在萨默塞特郡你们那一带，人们很熟悉威洛比先生吧？”埃丽诺问。
　　“哦！是的，极其熟悉。这并非说，我认为有许多人认识他，因为库姆大厦相距太远。不过我敢说，大家都认为他极其和悦。威洛比先生无论走到哪里，谁也没有他那样讨人喜欢，你可以这样告诉你妹妹。我以名誉担保，你妹妹找到他真是天大的福气。这倒不是说他找到你妹妹就不算极其幸运，因为你妹妹太漂亮、太温柔了，谁都难以匹配。不过我向你保证，我并不觉得你妹妹比你漂亮。我认为你们两人都很漂亮。帕尔默先生肯定也是这样认为的，只是昨晚我们无法让他承认罢了。”
　　帕尔默夫人关于威洛比的情报并无什么实质性的内容，不过任何有利于他的证据，不管多么微不足道，都会使埃丽诺感到高兴。
　　“我很高兴，我们终于相识了，”夏洛特继续说。“我希望我们永远是好朋友。你想不到我多么渴望见到你呀！你能住在乡舍里，这实在太好了！毫无疑问，没有比这更好的了！我很高兴，你妹妹就要嫁个如意郎君！我希望你常去库姆大厦，大家都说，这是个可爱的地方。”
　　“你和布兰登上校认识好久了，是吗？”
　　“是的，好久了，从我姐姐出嫁的时候起。他是约翰爵士的挚友。我认为，”她放低声音补充说，“假若可能的话，他本来很想娶我做妻子。约翰爵士和米德尔顿夫人很希望如此。可是我母亲觉得这门亲事不够如意，不然约翰爵士就会向上校提亲，我们当即就能结婚。”
　　“约翰爵士向你母亲提议之前，布兰登上校知不知道？他有没有向你表过钟情？”
　　“哦！没有，不过，假如我母亲不反对的话，我敢说他是求之不得的。当时，他只不过见过我两次，因为我还在上学。不过，我现在幸福多了。帕尔默先生正是我喜爱的那种人。”
  
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Chapter Twenty-one

The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, and the two families at Barton were again left to entertain each other. But this did not last long; Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her head,- had hardly done wondering at Charlotte's being so happy without a cause, at Mr. Palmer's acting so simply, with good abilities, and at the strange unsuitableness which often existed between husband and wife,- before Sir John's and Mrs. Jennings's active zeal in the cause of society procured her some other new acquaintance to see and observe.

In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with two young ladies, whom Mrs. Jennings had the satisfaction of discovering to be her relations, and this was enough for Sir John to invite them directly to the Park, as soon as their present engagements at Exeter were over. Their engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such an invitation; and Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alarm, on the return of Sir John, by hearing that she was very soon to receive a visit from two girls whom she had never seen in her life, and of whose elegance whose tolerable gentility even- she could have no proof; for the assurances of her husband and mother on that subject went for nothing at all. Their being her relation too, made it so much the worse; and Mrs. Jennings's attempts at consolation were, therefore, unfortunately founded, when she advised her daughter not to care about their being so fashionable; because they were all cousins, and must put up with one another. As it was impossible, however, now to prevent their coming, Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it with all the philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting herself with merely giving her husband a gentle reprimand on the subject five or six times every day.

The young ladies arrived: their appearance was by no means ungenteel or unfashionable. Their dress was very smart, their manners very civil: they were delighted with the house, and in raptures with the furniture; and they happened to be so doatingly fond of children, that Lady Middleton's good opinion was engaged in their favour before they had been an hour at the Park. She declared them to be very agreeable girls indeed, which, for her ladyship, was enthusiastic admiration. Sir John's confidence in his own judgment rose with this animated praise, and he set off directly for the cottage, to tell the Misses Dashwood of the Misses Steele's arrival, and to assure them of their being the sweetest girls in the world. From such commendation as this, however, there was not much to be learned: Elinor well knew that the sweetest girls in the world were to be met with in every part of England, under every possible variation of form, face, temper, and understanding. Sir John wanted the whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at his guests. Benevolent, philanthropic man! It was painful to him even to keep a third cousin to himself.

"Do come now," said he- "pray come- you must come- I declare you shall come. You can't think how you will like them. Lucy is monstrous pretty, and so good humoured and agreeable! The children are all hanging about her already, as if she was an old acquaintance. And they both long to see you of all things; for they have heard at Exeter that you are the most beautiful creatures in the world; and I have told them it is all very true, and a great deal more. You will be delighted with them, I am sure. They have brought the whole coach full of playthings for the children. How can you be so cross as not to come? Why they are your cousins, you know, after a fashion. You are my cousins, and they are my wife's; so you must be related."

But Sir John could not prevail: he could only obtain a promise of their calling at the Park within a day or two, and then left them in amazement at their indifference, to walk home and boast anew of their attractions to the Misses Steele, as he had been already boasting of the Misses Steele to them.

When their promised visit to the Park, and consequent introduction to these young ladies, took place, they found in the appearance of the eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible face, nothing to admire; but in the other, who was not more than two or three and twenty, they acknowledged considerable beauty: her features were pretty, and she had a sharp quick eye, and a smartness of air, which, though it did not give actual elegance or grace, gave distinction to her person. Their manners were particularly civil, and Elinor soon allowed them credit for some kind of sense, when she saw with what constant and judicious attention they were making themselves agreeable to Lady Middleton. With her children they were in continual raptures, extolling their beauty, courting their notice, and humouring their whims; and such of their time as could be spared from the importunate demands which this politeness made on it was spent in admiration of whatever her Ladyship was doing, if she happened to be doing anything, or in taking patterns of some elegant new dress, in which her appearance the day before had thrown them into unceasing delight. Fortunately for those who pay their court through such foibles, a fond mother, though, in pursuit of praise for her children, the most rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most credulous: her demands are exorbitant; but she will swallow any thing; and the excessive affection and endurance of the Misses Steele towards her offspring were viewed, therefore, by Lady Middleton without the smallest surprise or distrust. She saw with maternal complacency all the impertinent encroachments and mischievous tricks to which her cousins submitted. She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their ears, their work-bags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen away, and felt no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment. It suggested no other surprise than that Elinor and Marianne should sit so composedly by, without claiming a share in what was passing.

"John is in such spirits to-day!" said she, on his taking Miss Steele's pocket handkerchief, and throwing it out of window- "he is full of monkey tricks."

And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently pinching one of the same lady's fingers, she fondly observed, "How playful William is!"

"And here is my sweet little Anna-Maria," she added, tenderly caressing a little girl of three years old, who had not made a noise for the last two minutes; "and she is always so gentle and quiet. Never was there such a quiet little thing!"

But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin in her ladyship's head-dress slightly scratching the child's neck, produced from this pattern of gentleness such violent screams, as could hardly be outdone by any creature professedly noisy. The mother's consternation was excessive; but it could not surpass the alarm of the Misses Steele, and every thing was done by all three, in so critical an emergency, which affection could suggest, as likely to assauge the agonies of the little sufferer. She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, her wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the Misses Steele, who was on her knees to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar plums by the other. With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to cease crying. She still screamed and sobbed lustily, kicked her two brothers for offering to touch her: and all their united soothings were ineffectual, till Lady Middleton, luckily remembering that in a scene of similar distress last week some apricot marmalade had been successfully applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was eagerly proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of screams in the young lady on hearing it, gave them reason to hope that it would not be rejected. She was carried out of the room, therefore, in her mother's arms, in quest of this medicine; and as the two boys chose to follow, though earnestly entreated by their mother to stay behind, the four young ladies were left in a quietness which the room had not known for many hours.

"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Steele, as soon as they were gone; "it might have been a very sad accident."

"Yet I hardly know how," cried Marianne, "unless it had been under totally different circumstances. But this is the usual way of heightening alarm, where there is nothing to be alarmed at in reality."

"What a sweet woman Lady Middleton is!" said Lucy Steele.

Marianne was silent; it was impossible for her to say what she did not feel, however trivial the occasion; and upon Elinor, therefore, the whole task of telling lies, when politeness required it, always fell. She did her best when thus called on, by speaking of Lady Middleton with more warmth than she felt, though with far less than Miss Lucy.

"And Sir John, too," cried the elder sister, "what a charming man he is!"

Here, too, Miss Dashwood's commendation, being only simple and just, came in without any eclat. She merely observed that he was perfectly good humoured and friendly.

"And what a charming little family they have! I never saw such fine children in my life. I declare I quite doat upon them already, and indeed I am always distractedly fond of children."

"I should guess so," said Elinor, with a smile, "from what I have witnessed this morning."

"I have a notion," said Lucy, "you think the little Middletons rather too much indulged; perhaps they may be the outside of enough; but it is so natural in Lady Middleton; and, for my part, I love to see children full of life and spirits; I cannot bear them if they are tame and quiet."

"I confess," replied Elinor, "that while I am at Barton Park I never think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence."

A short pause succeeded this speech, which was first broken by Miss Steele, who seemed very much disposed for conversation, and who now said, rather abruptly, "And how do you like Devonshire, Miss Dashwood? I suppose you were very sorry to leave Sussex."

In some surprise at the familiarity of this question, or at least of the manner in which it was spoken, Elinor replied that she was.

"Norland is a prodigious beautiful place, is not it?" added Miss Steele.

"We have heard Sir John admire it excessively," said Lucy, who seemed to think some apology necessary for the freedom of her sister.

"I think every one must admire it," replied Elinor, "who ever saw the place; though it is not to be supposed that any one can estimate its beauties as we do."

"And had you a great many smart beaux there? I suppose you have not so many in this part of the world. For my part, I think they are a vast addition always."

"But why should you think," said Lucy, looking ashamed of her sister, "that there are not as many genteel young men in Devonshire as Sussex?"

"Nay, my dear, I'm sure I don't protend to say that there ain't. I'm sure there's a vast many smart beaux in Exeter; but you know, how could I tell what smart beaux there might be about Norland; and I was only afraid the Misses Dashwoods might find it dull at Barton, if they had not so many as they used to have. But perhaps you young ladies may not care about the beaux, and had as lief be without them as with them. For my part, I think they are vastly agreeable, provided they dress smart and behave civil. But I can't bear to see them dirty and nasty. Now there's Mr. Rose at Exeter, a prodigious smart young man, quite a beau, clerk to Mr. Simpson, you know, and yet if you do but meet him of a morning, he is not fit to be seen. I suppose your brother was quite a beau, Miss Dashwood, before he married, as he was so rich?"

"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "I cannot tell you, for I do not perfectly comprehend the meaning of the word. But this I can say, that if he ever was a beau before he married, he is one still, for there is not the smallest alteration in him."

"Oh, dear! one never thinks of married men's being beaux- they have something else to do."

"Lord! Anne," cried her sister, "you can talk of nothing but beaux; you will make Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing else." And then, to turn the discourse, she began admiring the house and the furniture.

This specimen of the Misses Steele was enough. The vulgar freedom and folly of the eldest left her no recommendation; and as Elinor was not blinded by the beauty, or the shrewd look of the youngest, to her want of real elegance and artlessness, she left the house without any wish of knowing them better.

Not so the Misses Steele. They came from Exeter well provided with admiration for the use of Sir John Middleton, his family, and all his relations; and no niggardly proportion was now dealt out to his fair cousins, whom they declared to be the most beautiful, elegant, accomplished, and agreeable girls they had ever beheld, and with whom they were particularly anxious to be better acquainted. And to be better acquainted, therefore, Elinor soon found was their inevitable lot; for as Sir Jack was entirely on the side of the Misses Steele, their party would be too strong for opposition, and that kind of intimacy must be submitted to, which consists of sitting an hour or two together in the same room almost every day. Sir John could do no more; but he did not know that any more was required: to be together was, in his opinion, to be intimate; and while his continual schemes for their meeting were effectual, he had not a doubt of their being established friends.

To do him justice, he did every thing in his power to promote their unreserve, by making the Misses Steele acquainted with whatever he knew or supposed of his cousins' situations in the most delicate particulars; and Elinor had not seen them more than twice, before the eldest of them wished her joy on her sister's having been so lucky as to make a conquest of a very smart beau since she came to Barton.

"'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so young, to be sure," said she, "and I hear he is quite a beau, and prodigious handsome. And I hope you may have as good luck yourself soon; but, perhaps, you may have a friend in the corner already."

Elinor could not suppose that Sir John would be more nice in proclaiming his suspicions of her regard for Edward, than he had been with respect to Marianne; indeed it was rather his favourite joke of the two, as being somewhat newer and more conjectual; and since Edward's visit, they had never dined together without his drinking to her best affections with so much significancy and so many nods and winks, as to excite general attention. The letter F had been likewise invariably brought forward, and found productive of such countless jokes, that its character, as the wittiest letter in the alphabet, had been long established with Elinor.

The Misses Steele, as she expected, had now all the benefit of these jokes; and in the eldest of them they raised a curiosity to know the name of the gentleman alluded to, which, though often impertinently expressed, was perfectly of a piece with her general inquisitiveness into the concerns of their family. But Sir John did not sport long with the curiosity which he delighted to raise, for he had at least as much pleasure in telling the name, as Miss Steele had in hearing it.

"His name is Ferrars," said he, in a very audible whisper; "but pray do not tell it, for it's a great secret."

"Ferrars!" repeated Miss Steele; "Mr. Ferrars is the happy man, is he? What! your sister-in-law's brother, Miss Dashwood? a very agreeable young man to be sure; I know him very well."

"How can you say so, Anne?" cried Lucy, who generally made an amendment to all her sister's assertions. "Though we have seen him once or twice at my uncle's, it is rather too much to pretend to know him very well."

Elinor heard all this with attention and surprise. "And who was this uncle? Where did he live? How came they acquainted?" She wished very much to have the subject continued, though she did not choose to join in it herself; but nothing more of it was said, and, for the first time in her life she thought Mrs. Jennings deficient either in curiosity after petty information, or in a disposition to communicate it. The manner in which Miss Steele had spoken of Edward increased her curiosity; for it struck her as being rather ill-natured, and suggested the suspicion of that lady's knowing, or fancying herself to know, something to his disadvantage. But her curiosity was unavailing; for no farther notice was taken of Mr. Ferrars's name by Miss Steele when alluded to, or even openly mentioned by Sir John.



　　第二天，帕尔默夫妇回到克利夫兰，巴顿的两家人又可以礼尚往来地请来请去了。但是，埃丽诺始终没有忘掉她们上次的客人——她还在纳闷：夏洛特怎么能无缘无故地这么快乐，帕尔默先生凭着他的才智，怎么能这样简单从事，夫妻之间怎么会这样奇怪地不相般配。没过多久，一贯热心于交际的约翰爵士和詹宁斯太太向她引见了几位新交。
　　一天早晨，大伙儿去埃克塞特游览，恰巧遇见两位小姐。詹宁斯太太高兴地发现，这两人还是她的亲戚，这就足以使约翰爵士邀请她们在埃克塞特的约期一满，便马上去巴顿庄园。他这么一邀请，她们在埃克塞特的约期也就即将结束了。约翰爵士回家后，米德尔顿夫人闻知不久要接待两位小姐来访，不禁大为惊愕。她生平从未见过这两位小姐，无从证明她们是不是文雅——甚至无从证明她们算不算得上有相当教养，因此她丈夫和母亲在这方面的保证根本不能作数。她们还是她的亲戚，这就把事情搞得更不妙了。詹宁斯大大试图安慰她，劝说她别去计较她脽妄于时髦，因为她们都是表姐妹，总得互相包涵着点。其实，这是无的放矢。事到如今，要制止她们来是办不到了。米德尔顿夫人采取一个教养有素的女人的乐观态度，对这事只好听之任之，每天和风细雨地责怪丈夫五六次也就足够了。
　　两位小姐到达了。从外观看，她们绝非有失文雅，绝非不入时。她们的穿着非常时髦，举止彬彬有礼，对房子十分中意，对房里的陈设喜爱得不得了。没想到她们会那样娇爱几个孩子，在巴顿庄园还没呆上一个小时，就博得了米德尔顿夫人的好感。她当众宣布，她们的确是两位十分讨人喜欢的小姐。对于这位爵士夫人来说，这是很热烈的赞赏。约翰爵士听到这番热情的赞扬，对自己的眼力更加充满了自信，当即跑到乡舍，告诉达什伍德家小姐，两位斯蒂尔小姐来了，并且向她们保证，斯蒂尔姐妹是天下最可爱的小姐。不过，只听这样的夸奖，你也了解不到多少东西。埃丽诺心里明白：天下最可爱的小姐在英格兰到处都能碰见，她们的体态、脸蛋、脾气、智力千差万别。约翰爵士要求达什伍德家全家出动，马上去巴顿庄园见见他的客人。真是个仁慈善良的人儿！即令是两个远房内表妹，不介绍给别人也会使他感到难受的。
　　“快去吧，”他说，“请走吧———你们一定要去——我说你们非去不可。你们想象不到，你们会多么喜欢她们。露西漂亮极了，既和蔼又可亲!孩子们已经在围着她转了，好像她是个老相识似的。她们两人都渴望见到你们，因为她们在埃克塞特就听说，你们是绝世佳人。我告诉她们一点不假，而且还远远不止于此。你们一定会喜欢她俩的。她们给孩子们带来满满一车玩具。你们怎么能一不高兴连个脸都不肯赏！你们知道，说起来，她俩还是你们的远房表亲呢。你们是我的表侄女，她们是我太太的表姐妹，因此你们也就有亲戚关系。”
　　但是，约翰爵士说不服她们。他只能让她们答应一两天内去拜访，然后告辞回去，对她们如此无动于衷深感惊奇。他回到家，又把她们的妩媚多姿向两位斯蒂尔小姐吹嘘了一番，就像他刚才向她们吹嘘两位斯蒂尔小姐一样。
　　她们按照事先的许诺来到巴顿庄园，并被介绍给两位小姐。她们发现，那姐姐年近三十，脸蛋长得很一般，看上去就不明睿，一点也不值得称羡。可是那位妹妹，她们都觉得相当俏丽。她不过二十二三岁，面貌清秀，目光敏锐，神态机灵，纵使不觉得真正高雅俊美，也够得上人品出众。姐妹俩的态度特别谦恭，埃丽诺见她们总是那么审慎周到地取悦米德尔顿夫人，不禁马上认识到她们还真懂点情理。她们一直都在同她的孩子嬉戏，称赞他们长得漂亮，逗引他们，满足他们种种奇怪的念头。在礼貌周到地与孩子们纠缠之余，不是赞许爵士夫人碰巧在忙碌什么事情，就是量取她头天穿的、曾使他们赞羡不已的新式艳服的图样。值得庆幸的是，对于阿谀成癖的人来说，溺爱子女的母亲虽然一味追求别人对自己子女的赞扬，贪婪之情无以复加，但又同样最容易轻信。这种人贪得无厌，轻信一切；因此，斯蒂尔姐妹妹对小家伙的过分溺爱和忍让，米德尔顿夫人丝毫不感到惊奇和猜疑。看到两位表姐妹受到小家伙的无礼冒犯和恶意捉弄，她这做母亲的反倒自鸣得意起来。她眼看着她们的腰带被解开，头发被抓乱，针线袋被搜遍，刀、剪被偷走，而毫不怀疑这仅仅是一种相互逗趣而已。令人诧异的是，埃丽诺和玛丽安居然能安之若素地坐在一旁，却不肯介入眼前的嬉闹。
　　“约翰今天这么高兴！”当约翰夺下斯蒂尔小姐的手帕，并且扔出窗外时，米德尔顿夫人说道。“他真薀皖计多端。”
　　过了一会儿，老二又狠命地去拧斯蒂尔小姐的手指，她又带着爱抚的口吻说道：“威廉真顽皮！”
　　“瞧这可爱的小安娜玛丽亚，”她一边说，一边爱怜地抚摩着三岁的小姑娘，这小家伙已有两分钟没吵闹了。“她总是这么文静——从没见过这么文静的小家伙！”
　　然而不幸的是，正当米德尔顿夫人亲热搂抱的时候，不料她头饰上的别针轻轻划了一下孩子的脖颈，惹得这位文静的小家伙尖叫不止，气势汹汹，简直连自称最能吵闹的小家伙也望尘莫及。孩子的母亲顿时张皇失措，但是还比不上斯蒂尔妹妹的惊恐之状。在这紧急关头，似乎只有千疼万爱才能减轻这位小受难者的痛苦，于是三人一个个忙得不可开交。做母亲的把小站娘抱在膝上，亲个不停；一位斯蒂尔小姐双膝跪在地上，往伤口上涂洒薰衣草香水；另一位斯蒂尔小姐直往小家伙嘴里塞虩望。既然眼泪可以赢来这么多好处，这小机灵鬼索性没完没了地哭下去。她继续拼命地大哭大叫，两个哥哥要来摸摸她，她抬脚就踢。眼看大家同心合力都哄她不好，米德尔顿夫人侥幸地记起，上周发生一起同样不幸的事件。那次，小家伙的太阳穴擦伤了，后来吃点杏子酱就好了。于是她赶忙提议采取同样办法治疗这不幸的擦伤。小姑娘听到后，尖叫声稍微中断了一会儿，这就给大家带来了希望，心想她是不会拒绝杏子酱的。因此，她母亲把她抱出房去，寻找这灵丹妙药。虽然母亲恳求两个男孩呆在房里，他们却偏要跟着一起出来。于是留下四位小姐，几个小时以来，室内头一次安静下来。
　　“可怜的小家伙！”这娘儿几个一走出房去，斯蒂尔小姐便说。“差一点闹出一场大祸来。”
　　“我简直不知道这有什么大不了的，”玛丽安嚷道，“除非处在截然不同的情况下。不过，这是人们制造惊慌的一贯手法，实际上没有什么值得大惊小怪的。”
　　“米德尔顿夫人真是个可爱的女人，”露西．斯蒂尔说。
　　玛丽安默不作声。不管处在多么无关紧要的场合，要她言不由衷地去捧场，那是办不到的；因此，出于礼貌上的需要而说说谎话的整个任务总是落在埃丽诺身上。既然有此需要，她便竭尽全力，谈论起米德尔顿夫人来，虽然远远不及露西小姐来得热烈，却比自己的真实感情热烈得多。
　　“还有约翰爵士，”斯蒂尔大小姐嚷道，“他是多么可爱的一个人啊！”
　　说到约翰爵士，达什伍德小姐的赞扬也很简单而有分寸，并无随声吹捧之意。她只是说：他十分和善，待人亲切。
　　“他们的小家庭多么美满啊！我生平从未见过这么好的孩子。对你们说吧，我真喜欢他们。说实话，我对孩子总是喜欢得要命。”
　　“从我今天早晨见到的情况看，”埃丽诺含笑说，“我认为确实是这样。”
　　“我认为，”露西说，“你觉得几个小米德尔顿娇惯得太厉害了，也许他们是有点过分。不过这在米德尔顿夫人却是很自然的。就我来说，我喜欢看到孩子们生龙活虎，兴高采烈。我不能容忍他脽玩规矩矩、死气沉沉的样子。”
　　“说心里话，”埃丽诺答道，“一来到巴顿庄园，我从未想到厌恶规规矩矩、死气沉沉的孩子。”
　　这句话过后，室内沉默了一阵，但很快这沉默又被斯蒂尔小姐打破。她似乎很健谈，现在突然说道：“你很喜欢德文郡吧，达什伍德小姐？我想你离开苏塞克斯一定很难过。”
　　这话问得太唐突了，起码问的方式过于唐突，埃丽诺惊奇之余，回答说她是很难过。
　　“诺兰庄园是个极其美丽的地方，是吧？”斯蒂尔小姐接着行道。
　　“我们听说约翰爵士极其赞赏那个地方，”露西说。她似乎觉得，她姐姐有些放肆，需要打打圆场。
　　“我想谁见了那个地方，”埃丽诺答道，“都会赞赏的，只是不能说有谁能像我们那样评价它的美。”
　　“你们那里有不少风流的小伙子吧？我看这一带倒不多。就我来说，我觉得有了他们，总是增光不少。”
　　“但你为什么认为，”露西说，似乎为她姐姐感到害臊，“德文郡的风流小伙子不及苏塞克斯的多？”
　　“不，亲爱的，我当然不是佯称这里的不多。埃克塞特的漂亮小伙子肯定很多。可你知道，我怎么说得上诺兰一带有什么样的漂亮小伙子？我只是担心，倘若达什伍德小姐们见不到像以前那么多的小伙子，会觉得巴顿索然寡味的。不过，也许你们年轻站娘并不稀罕多情的小伙子，有他们没他们都一样。就我来说，只要他们穿戴美观，举止文雅，我总觉得他们十分可爱。但是，见到他们邋里邋遢、不三不四的，我却不能容忍。这不，埃克塞特有个罗斯先生，好一个漂亮的小伙子，真是女孩的意中人。你知道，他是辛普森先生的书记员，然而你若是哪天早晨碰见他，他还真不堪入目呢。达什伍德小姐，我想你哥哥结婚前也一定是女孩们的意中人，因为他很有钱呀。”
　　“说实在话，”埃丽诺回答，“我无法奉告，因为我并：不完全明白这个字眼的意思。不过，有一点我可以告诉你：假若他结婚前果真是女孩们的意中人，那他现在还是如此，因为他身上没有一丝一毫的变化。”
　　“哦！天哪！人们从来不把结过婚的男人看作意中人——人家还有别的事情要做呢。”
　　“天呀！安妮，”她妹妹嚷道，“你张口闭口离不了意中人，真要叫达什伍德小姐以为你脑子里没有别的念头啦。”接着，她话锋一转，赞赏起房子和家具。
　　斯蒂尔姐妹真够得上是典型人物。大小姐庸俗放肆，愚昧无知，对她无可推举。二小姐虽然样子很俊俏，看上去很机灵，埃丽诺却没有一叶障目，看出了她缺少真正的风雅，还有失纯朴。因此，她离别的时候，压根儿不希望进一步结识她们。
　　斯蒂尔姐妹并不这样想。她们从埃克塞特来的时候，早就对约翰爵士夫妇及其亲属的为人处世充满了倾慕之情，而这倾慕之情有很大成分是针对他的漂亮的表侄女的。她脽瞳开声称：达什伍德妹妹是她们见过的最美丽、最优雅、最多才多艺、最和蔼可亲的小姐，迫切希望与她们建立深交。埃丽诺很快发现，建立深交乃是她们不可避免的命运，因为约翰爵士完全站在斯蒂尔妹妹一边，他们举行聚会非要请上她们，真是盛情难却，只好屈就，这就意味着几乎每天都要在同一间房里连续坐上一两个钟头。约翰爵士使不出更多的招数，也不知道需要有更多的招数。据他看来，呆在一起就算关系密切，只要他能切实有效地安排她们经常聚会，他就不怀疑她们已成为牢靠的朋友。
　　说句公道话，他在竭尽全力促进她们坦诚相处。就他所知，将他表侄女们的情况向斯蒂尔姐妹做了极其精细具体的介绍。她们与埃丽诺不过见了两次面，斯蒂尔大小姐便向她恭喜，说她妹妹真够幸运，来到巴顿后竟征服了一位十分漂亮的如意郎君。
　　“她这么年轻就出嫁，这当然是件大好事，”她说，“听说他真是个如意郎君，长得漂亮极啦。我希望你很快也会交上这样的好运。不过，也许你早就偷偷摸摸地交上朋友啦。”
　　埃丽诺觉得，约翰爵士当众宣布他怀疑她与爱德华相好，这并不会比他怀疑玛丽安时更注意分寸。事实上，两者比较起来，爵士更喜欢开埃丽诺的玩笑，因为这个玩笑更新鲜，更费揣测。自从爱德华来访后，每次在一起吃饭时，他总要意味深长地举杯祝她情场如意，一面频频点头眨眼，引起了众人的注目。那个“费”字也总是被一再端出来，逗引出不计其数的玩笑，以至于在埃丽诺心目中，早就被确立为天下最奇妙的一个字儿。
　　不出所料，斯蒂尔姐妹这下子可从这些玩笑里捞到了把柄。那位大小姐一时来了好奇心，一定要知道那位先生的尊姓大名。她的话虽然往往说得没轻没重，但是却跟她专爱打听她们家的闲事的举动完全一致。约翰爵士尽管十分乐于引逗别人的好奇心，但他没有长时间地引逗下去，因为正像斯蒂尔小姐很想听到那个名字一样，他也很想当众说出来。
　　“他姓费拉斯，”他说，声音不大，但却听得很清楚。“不过请别声张出去，这是个绝大的秘密啊。”
　　“费拉斯！”斯蒂尔小姐重复了一声。“费拉斯先生是那幸福的人儿，是吗？什么！你嫂子的弟弟呀，达什伍德小姐？那自然是个非常可爱的小伙于，我可了解他啦。”
　　“你怎么能这么说，安妮？”露西嚷道，她总爱修正她姐姐的话。“我们虽然在舅舅家见过他一两次，要说十分了解他可就有点过分。”
　　这一席话，埃丽诺听得仔细，也很诧异。“这位舅父是谁？他住在何处？他们是怎么认识的？”她很希望这话题能继续下去，虽然她自己不想介入。不料两人没有说下去，而埃丽诺生平第一次感到，詹宁斯太太既缺乏打听的好奇心，又缺乏通报消息的自觉性。斯蒂尔小姐说起爱德华时的那副神气，进一步激起了她的好奇心，因为她觉得那位小姐情绪不对头，怀疑她了解（或者自以为了解）爱德华有什么不光彩的事情，但是她的好奇纯属无益，因为约翰爵士暗示也好，明摆也罢，斯蒂尔小姐都没再去理会费拉斯先生的名字。
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Twenty-two

Marianne, who had never much toleration for any thing like impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts, or even difference of taste from herself, was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from the state of her spirits, to be pleased with the Miss Steeles, or to encourage their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour at intimacy on their side, Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself which soon became evident in the manners of both, but especially of Lucy, who missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation, or of striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank communication of her sentiments.

Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often just and amusing; and as a companion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her agreeable; but her powers had received no aid from education: she was ignorant and illiterate; and her deficiency of all mental improvement, her want of information in the most common particulars, could not be concealed from Miss Dashwood, in spite of her constant endeavour to appear to advantage. Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of abilities which education might have rendered so respectable; but she saw, with less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy, of rectitude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, her assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have no lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined insincerity with ignorance; whose want of instruction prevented their meeting in conversation on terms of equality, and whose conduct toward others made every shew of attention and deference towards herself perfectly valueless.

"You will think my question an odd one, I dare say," said Lucy to her one day, as they were walking together from the park to the cottage - "but pray, are you personally acquainted with your sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?"

Elinor DID think the question a very odd one, and her countenance expressed it, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars.

"Indeed!" replied Lucy; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have seen her at Norland sometimes. Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me what sort of a woman she is?"

"No," returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's mother, and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent curiosity - "I know nothing of her."

"I am sure you think me very strange, for enquiring about her in such a way," said Lucy, eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke; "but perhaps there may be reasons - I wish I might venture; but however I hope you will do me the justice of believing that I do not mean to be impertinent."

Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on for a few minutes in silence. It was broken by Lucy, who renewed the subject again by saying, with some hesitation,

"I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious. I am sure I would rather do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours. And I am sure I should not have the smallest fear of trusting you; indeed, I should be very glad of your advice how to manage in such and uncomfortable situation as I am; but, however, there is no occasion to trouble you. I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars."

"I am sorry I do not," said Elinor, in great astonishment, "if it could be of any use to you to know my opinion of her. But really I never understood that you were at all connected with that family, and therefore I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry into her character."

"I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it. But if I dared tell you all, you would not be so much surprised. Mrs. Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present - but the time MAY come - how soon it will come must depend upon herself - when we may be very intimately connected."

She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful, with only one side glance at her companion to observe its effect on her.

"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "what do you mean? Are you acquainted with Mr. Robert Ferrars? Can you be?" And she did not feel much delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law.

"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. Robert Ferrars - I never saw him in my life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."

What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the assertion attended it. She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement, unable to divine the reason or object of such a declaration; and though her complexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and felt in no danger of an hysterical fit, or a swoon.

"You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; "for to be sure you could have had no idea of it before; for I dare say he never dropped the smallest hint of it to you or any of your family; because it was always meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully kept so by me to this hour. Not a soul of all my relations know of it but Anne, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not felt the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I really thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs. Ferrars must seem so odd, that it ought to be explained. And I do not think Mr. Ferrars can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted you, because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as his own sisters." - She paused.

Elinor for a few moments remained silent. Her astonishment at what she heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner, which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude - "May I ask if your engagement is of long standing?"

"We have been engaged these four years."

"Four years!"

"Yes."

Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it.

"I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the other day."

"Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date. He was under my uncle's care, you know, a considerable while."

"Your uncle!"

"Yes; Mr. Pratt. Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?"

"I think I have," replied Elinor, with an exertion of spirits, which increased with her increase of emotion.

"He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near Plymouth. It was there our acquaintance begun, for my sister and me was often staying with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil; but he was almost always with us afterwards. I was very unwilling to enter into it, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so prudent as I ought to have been. - Though you do not know him so well as me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."

"Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said; but after a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Edward's honour and love, and her companion's falsehood - "Engaged to Mr. Edward Ferrars! - I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me, that really - I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some mistake of person or name. We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars."

"We can mean no other," cried Lucy, smiling. "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars, of Park Street, and brother of your sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; you must allow that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on who all my happiness depends."

"It is strange," replied Elinor, in a most painful perplexity, "that I should never have heard him even mention your name."

"No; considering our situation, it was not strange. Our first care has been to keep the matter secret. - You knew nothing of me, or my family, and, therefore, there could be no occasion for ever mentioning my name to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's suspecting any thing, THAT was reason enough for his not mentioning it."

She was silent. - Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command did not sink with it.

"Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice.

"Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait. Poor Edward! It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature from her pocket, she added, "To prevent the possibility of mistake, be so good as to look at this face. It does not do him justice, to be sure, but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was drew for. - I have had it above these three years."

She put it into her hands as she spoke; and when Elinor saw the painting, whatever other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind, she could have none of its being Edward's face. She returned it almost instantly, acknowledging the likeness.

"I have never been able," continued Lucy, "to give him my picture in return, which I am very much vexed at, for he has been always so anxious to get it! But I am determined to set for it the very first opportunity."

"You are quite in the right," replied Elinor calmly. They then proceeded a few paces in silence. Lucy spoke first.

"I am sure," said she, "I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully keeping this secret, because you must know of what importance it is to us, not to have it reach his mother; for she would never approve of it, I dare say. I shall have no fortune, and I fancy she is an exceeding proud woman."

"I certainly did not seek your confidence," said Elinor; "but you do me no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on. Your secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some surprise at so unnecessary a communication. You must at least have felt that my being acquainted with it could not add to its safety."

As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping to discover something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest part of what she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no change.

"I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you," said she, "in telling you all this. I have not known you long to be sure, personally at least, but I have known you and all your family by description a great while; and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost as if you was an old acquaintance. Besides in the present case, I really thought some explanation was due to you after my making such particular inquiries about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate, that I have not a creature whose advice I can ask. Anne is the only person that knows of it, and she has no judgment at all; indeed, she does me a great deal more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of her betraying me. She does not know how to hold her tongue, as you must perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest fright in the world t'other day, when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, lest she should out with it all. You can't think how much I go through in my mind from it altogether. I only wonder that I am alive after what I have suffered for Edward's sake these last four years. Every thing in such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom - we can hardly meet above twice a-year. I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite broke."

Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very compassionate.

"Sometimes." continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether it would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely." As she said this, she looked directly at her companion. "But then at other times I have not resolution enough for it. - I cannot bear the thoughts of making him so miserable, as I know the very mention of such a thing would do. And on my own account too - so dear as he is to me - I don't think I could be equal to it. What would you advise me to do in such a case, Miss Dashwood? What would you do yourself?"

"Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the question; "but I can give you no advice under such circumstances. Your own judgment must direct you."

"To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few minutes silence on both sides, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; but poor Edward is so cast down by it! Did you not think him dreadful low-spirited when he was at Barton? He was so miserable when he left us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was afraid you would think him quite ill."

"Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he visited us?"

"Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us. Did you think he came directly from town?"

"No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every fresh circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity; "I remember he told us, that he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth." She remembered too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning nothing farther of those friends, at his total silence with respect even to their names.

"Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy.

"We did, indeed, particularly so when he first arrived."

"I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was the matter; but it made him so melancholy, not being able to stay more than a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected. - Poor fellow! - I am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he writes in wretched spirits. I heard from him just before I left Exeter;" taking a letter from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction to Elinor. "You know his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but that is not written so well as usual. - He was tired, I dare say, for he had just filled the sheet to me as full as possible."

Elinor saw that it WAS his hand, and she could doubt no longer. This picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been accidentally obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; but a correspondence between them by letter, could subsist only under a positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing else; for a few moments, she was almost overcome - her heart sunk within her, and she could hardly stand; but exertion was indispensably necessary; and she struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that her success was speedy, and for the time complete.

"Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning the letter into her pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations. Yes, I have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Edward has not even THAT. If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy. I gave him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last, and that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture. Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?"

"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was concealed an emotion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt before. She was mortified, shocked, confounded.

Fortunately for her, they had now reached the cottage, and the conversation could be continued no farther. After sitting with them a few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was then at liberty to think and be wretched.



　　玛丽安本来就不大容忍粗俗无礼、才疏学浅甚至同她志趣不投的人，目前再处于这种心情，自然越发不喜欢斯蒂尔妹妹。她们主动接近她，她都爱理不理的。她总是这么冷漠无情，不让她们同她亲近。埃丽诺认为，主要因为这个缘故，她们才对她自己产生了偏爱，而从她们两人的言谈举止来看，这种偏爱很快就变得明显起来。特别是露西，她从不放过任何机会找她攀谈，想通过自然而坦率的思想交流，改善相互之间的关系。
　　露西生性机敏，谈吐往往恰加其分，饶有风趣。埃丽诺才与她交往了半个小时，便一再发觉她为入谦和。但是，她的才能并未得助于受教育，她愚昧无知，是个文盲。尽管她总想显得非常优越，但她智力不够发达，缺乏最普通的常识。这些都瞒不过达什伍德小姐。埃丽诺看到本来通过受教育可以得到充分发挥的才干统统荒废了，不禁为她感到惋惜。但是，使她无法同情的是，从她在巴顿庄园大献殷勤和百般奉承可以看出，她实在太不体面，太不正直，太不诚实。和这样一个人交往，埃丽诺是不会长久感到满意的，因为她综合了虚假和无知，她的孤陋寡闻使她们无法平起平坐地进行交谈，而她对别人的所作所为使得她对埃丽诺的关心和尊重变得毫无价值。
　　“你一定会觉得我的问题有点蹊跷，”一天，她们一起由巴顿庄园向乡舍走去时，露西对她说，“不过还是请问一下：你真的认识你嫂嫂的母亲费拉斯太太吗？”
　　埃丽诺的确觉得这个问题问得非常蹊跷，当她回答说从未见过费拉斯太太时，她的脸上露出了这种神情。
　　“是啊！”露西应道。“我就感到奇怪嘛，因为我原来认为你一定在诺兰庄园见过她。这么说来，你也许不能告诉我她是个什么样的人啦？”
　　“是的，”埃丽诺回答道，她在谈论她对爱德华母亲的真实看法时十分谨慎，同时也不想满足露西那唐突无礼的好奇心，“我对她一无所知。”
　　“我这样打听她的情况，你一定觉得我很奇怪，”露西说，一面仔细地打量着埃丽诺。“不过也许我有理由呢——但愿我可以冒昧地说出来。但我希望你能公道一些，相信我并非有意冒犯。”
　　埃丽诺客客气气地回答了一句，然后两人默不作声地又走了几分钟。露西打破了沉默，又回到刚才的话题，犹犹豫豫地说道：
　　“我不能让你认为我唐突无礼，爱打听，我无论如何也不愿意让你这样看我。我相信，博得你的好评是非常值得的。我敢说，我可以放心大胆地信任你。的确，处在我这样跪总的境地，我很想听听你的意见，告诉我该怎么办。不过，现在用不着打扰你了。真遗憾，你居然不认识费拉斯太太。”
　　“假加你真需要了解我对她的看法的话，”埃丽诺大为惊讶地说，“那就很抱歉啦，我的确不认识她。不过说真的，我一直不知道你与那一家人还有什么牵连，因此，说心里话，看到你这么一本正经地打听她的为人，我真有点感到意外。”
　　“你肯定会感到意外，对此我当然也不觉得奇怪。不过我若是大胆地把事情说明白，你就不会这么吃惊。费拉斯太太目前当然与我毫无关系——不过以后我们的关系会很密切的——至于什么时候开始，那得取决于她自己。”
　　说罢，她低下头，神情和悦而羞涩。她只是斜视了埃丽诺一眼，看她有何反应。
　　“天啊!”埃丽诺暖道，“你这是什么意思？难道你认识罗伯特·费拉斯先生？这可能吗？”一想到将来有这么个娘姆，她不很中意。
　　“不，”露西答道，“不是认识罗伯特．费拉斯先生——我同他素昧平生。不过，”她两眼凝视着埃丽诺，“我认识他哥哥。”
　　此刻，埃丽诺会作何感想？她大吃一惊！她若不是当即对这话有所怀疑的话，心里说不定有多痛苦呢。惊得之余，她默默转向露西，猜不透她凭什么说这话，目的何在。她虽说脸色都起了变化，但是心里却坚决不肯相信，因而并不存在歇斯底里大发作或是晕雁的危险。
　　“你是该吃惊，”露西继续说道。“因为你先前肯定一无所知。我敢说，他从未向你或你家里的人透露过一丁点儿—口风，因为我们存心要绝对保守秘密，我敢说，直到目前为止，我一直是守口如瓶。除了安妮以外，我的亲属中没有一个知道这件事的。我若不是深信你会保守秘密的话，绝对不会告诉你的。我确实觉得，我提了这么多关于费拉斯太太的问题，似乎很是莫名其妙，应该解释一下。我想，费拉斯先生要是知道我向你透露了，也不会见怪的，因为我知道他很看得起你们一家人，总是把你和另外两位达什伍德小姐当亲妹妹看待。”说罢就停住了。
　　埃丽诺沉默了片刻。她初听到这些话，一时愕然无语，但最后还是硬逼着自己开了口。为了谨慎起见，她做出沉着镇定的样子，足以掩饰她的惊讶和焦虑，然后说：“请问：你们是不是订婚很久了？”
　　“我们已经订婚四年啦。”
　　“四年？”
　　“是的。”
　　埃丽诺虽然极为震惊，但还是感到不可置信。
　　“直到那一天，”她说，“我才知道你们两个也认识。”
　　“可是我们已经认识多年了。你知道，他由我舅舅照料了好长时间。”
　　“你舅舅！”
　　“是的，普赖特先生。你从没听他说起普赖特先生？”
　　“我想听到过，”埃丽诺答道，感情一激动，又增添了几分精神。
　　“他四年前寄居在我舅舅家。我舅舅住在普利茅斯附近的郎斯特普尔。我们就在那儿开始认识的，因为我姐姐和我常呆在舅舅家。我们也是在那里订的婚，虽然是直到他退学一年后才订的。随后他几乎总是和我们呆在一起。你可以想象，瞒着他母亲，得不到她的认可，我是不愿意和他订婚的。但是我太年轻，太喜爱他了，不可能采取应有的慎重态度。达什伍德小姐，虽说你不如我了解他，但是你常见到他，知道他很有魅力，能使一个女人真心地爱上他。”
　　“当然，”埃丽诺不知所云地答道。可是，沉吟片刻之后，她又对爱德华的信誉和钟情恢复了自信，认为她的伙伴一定是在撒谎。于是，便接着说：“同爱德华．费拉斯先生订婚：不瞒你说，你的话完全出乎我的意料之外，的确如此——请你原谅；不过，你一定闹错了人，搞错了名字，我们不可能指同一个费拉斯先生。”
　　“我们不可能指别人，”露西含笑叫道。“帕克街费拉斯太太的长子、你嫂嫂约翰·达什伍德夫人的弟弟爱德华．费拉斯先生，这就是我所指的那个人。你必须承认，我把全部幸福都寄托在他身上了，我才不会把他的名字搞错呢。”
　　“很奇怪，”埃丽诺带着揪心的悲伦和困窘说道，“我竟然从未听见他提起过你的名字。”是没有。考虑到我们的处境，这并不奇怪。我们首先关心的，是要保守秘密。你本来并不知道我和我家里的人，因而他没有必要向你提起我的名字。再说，他一向生怕她姐姐疑神疑鬼的，这就构成足够的理由，使他不敢提及我的名字。”
　　她不作声了。埃丽诺的自信消失了，但她没有失去自制。
　　“你们订婚都四年啦，”她带着沉稳的口气说。
　　“是的。天知道我们还要等多久。可怜的爱德华！他给搞得垂头丧气的。”露西从衣袋里取出一幅小画像，然后接着说，“为了避免搞错，还是请你瞧瞧他的面孔。当然，画得不很像，不过，我想你总不会搞错画的是谁。这幅画像我都保存了三年多啦。”
　　她说着把画像递进埃丽诺的手里。埃丽诺一看，如果说她唯恐草草作出结论和希望发现对方在撒谎，因而还残存着这样那样的怀疑的话，那么她却无法怀疑这确是爱德华的面貌。她当即归还了画像，承认是像爱德华。
　　“我一直未能回赠他一张我的画像，”露西继续说，“为此我感到非常烦恼，因为他一直渴望得到一张：我决定一有机会就找人画一张。”
　　“你说得很对，”埃丽诺平静地回答道。随后她们默默地走了几步，还是露西先开了口。
　　“说真的，”她说，“我毫不怀疑你会切实保守秘密的，因为你肯定知道，不让事情传到他母亲耳朵里，这对我们来说有多重要。我敢说，她绝对不会同意这门婚事。我将来没有财产，我想她是个极其傲慢的女人。”
　　“当然，我可没有要你向我吐露真情，”埃丽诺说，“不过，你认为我可以信得过，却是再公道不过了。我会给你严守秘密的。不过恕我直言，我对你多此一举地向我吐露真情，委实有些诧异。你至少会觉得，我了解了这件事并不会使它变得更保险。”
　　她一边说，一边仔细地瞅着露西，希望从她的神色里发现点破绽——也许发现她所说的绝大部分都是假话。不料露西却面不改设，你恐怕会认为，”露西说，“我对你太随便了，告诉你这些事情。诚然，我认识你的时间不长，至少直接交往的时间不长，但是凭借别人的描述，我对你和你一家人了解了很长时间。我一见到你，就觉得几乎像旧友重逢一样。况且，碰到目前这件事，我向你这么详细地询问了爱德华母亲的情况，确实觉得该向你作些解释。我真够不幸的，连个征求意见的人都没有。安妮是唯一的知情人，可她压根儿没长心眼。她确确实实是成事不足，败事有余，总是害得我提心吊胆的，生怕她泄露出去。你一定看得出来，她的嘴巴不牢。我那天一听见约翰爵士提起爱德华的名字，的的确确吓得要命，唯恐她一股脑儿捅出来。你无法想象，这件事让我担惊受伯，吃了多少苦头。使我感到惊奇的是，这四年来我为爱德华受了这么多苦，如今居然还活着。一切都悬而未决，捉摸不定，同他难得见见面——一年顶多见上两次。我真不知道怎么搞的，我的心居然没有碎。”
　　说到这里，她掏出手帕，可是埃丽诺却不那么怜悯她。
　　“有些时候，”露西擦了擦眼睛，继续说，“我在想，我们是不是干脆吹了，对双方还好些。”说着，两眼直勾勾地盯着她的同伴。“然而，还有些时候，我又下不了这个狠心。我不忍心搞得他可怜巴巴的，因为我知道，一旦提出这个问题，定会搞得他痛不欲生。这也是替我自己着想——他是那样的可爱，我想我又和他断不了。在这种情况下，达什伍德小姐，你说我该怎么办？要是换成你会怎么办？”
　　“请原谅，”埃丽诺听到这个问题吃了一惊，只好答道，“在这种情况下，我也拿不出什么主意，还得由你自己做主。”
　　“毫无疑问，”双方沉默了几分钟之后，露西继续说道，“他母亲迟早要供养他的。可怜的爱德华为此感到十分沮丧！他在巴顿时，你不觉得他垂头丧气吗？他离开郎斯特普尔到你们这里来的时候哀伤极了，我真担心你们会以为他害了重病。”
　　“这么说，他是从你舅舅那儿来探望我们的？”
　　“哦，是的，他和我们一起呆了两个星期。你还以为他直接从城里来的？”
　　“不，”埃丽诺答道，深有感触地认识到，一桩桩新的情况表明，露西没有说假话。“我记得他对我们说过，他同普利茅斯附近的一些朋友在一起呆了两个星期。”她还记得她当时很惊奇，因为他没有再提到那些朋友，连他们的名字都绝口不提。
　　“难道你不觉得他抑郁不乐吗？”露西重复问道。
　　“确实是这样，特别是他刚到的时候。”
　　“我恳求他尽量克制自己，免得你们疑心出了什么事。可是他因为不能和我们在一起多呆些日子，再加上看到我那么伤感，他也十分忧伤。可怜的家伙!我担心他现在还是那副样子，因为他写起信来语气还是那么沮丧。我就在离开埃克塞特前夕收到他的一封信。”说着从口袋里掏出信，漫不经心地让埃丽诺看了看姓名地址。“你想必是认得他的笔迹的，写得可漂亮啦。可是这封信写得不加平常工整。他大概是累了，只是凑合着写满了一页，”
　　埃丽诺一看，果然是爱德华的笔迹，也就无法再怀疑了。她原来认为，那个画像可能是她意外搞到的，而不见得是爱德华的礼物。可是他们之间的通信关系只有在明确订婚的情况下才可能建立起来，别无其他理由。转瞬间，她几乎为感情所压倒——情绪一落千丈，两条腿几乎站都站不住了。但是她干万要顶住，她竭力克制住自己的抑郁之感，结果立即见效，而且当时效果还很不错。
　　“在长期的分离中，”露西说，一面把信放回口袋里，“互相通通信成为我们唯一的安慰。是的，作为我，他的画像也是个安慰，然而可怜的爱德华连这也没有。他说他只要搞到我的画像，就会觉得宽慰多了。他上次去郎斯特普尔时，我送了他一绺头发，嵌在一只戒指上，他说那对他是个慰藉，但是顶不上画像。你见到他的时候，也许注意到那只戒指了吧？”
　　“注意到了，”埃丽诺说，在她那平静的语气后面，隐藏着她从未感到过的激动和忧伤。她感到屈辱、震惊和惶恐。
　　幸好，她们现在来到乡舍跟前，谈话不能继续下去了。斯蒂尔姐妹和她们一起坐了几分钟，便起身告辞回庄园去。这样一来，埃丽诺才得以纵情地去思索，去忍受痛苦了。



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Chapter Twenty-three

However small Elinor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be, it was impossible for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the present case, where no temptation could be answerable to the folly of inventing a falsehood of such a description. What Lucy had asserted to be true, therefore, Elinor could not, dared not longer doubt; supported as it was too on every side by such probabilities and proofs, and contradicted by nothing but her own wishes. Their opportunity of acquaintance in the house of Mr. Pratt was a foundation for the rest, at once indisputable and alarming; and Edward's visit near Plymouth, his melancholy state of mind, his dissatisfaction at his own prospects, his uncertain behaviour towards herself, the intimate knowledge of the Miss Steeles as to Norland and their family connections, which had often surprised her, the picture, the letter, the ring, formed altogether such a body of evidence, as overcame every fear of condemning him unfairly, and established as a fact, which no partiality could set aside, his ill-treatment of herself.—Her resentment of such behaviour, her indignation at having been its dupe, for a short time made her feel only for herself; but other ideas, other considerations, soon arose. Had Edward been intentionally deceiving her? Had he feigned a regard for her which he did not feel? Was his engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart? No; whatever it might once have been, she could not believe it such at present. His affection was all her own. She could not be deceived in that. Her mother, sisters, Fanny, all had been conscious of his regard for her at Norland; it was not an illusion of her own vanity. He certainly loved her. What a softener of the heart was this persuasion! How much could it not tempt her to forgive! He had been blamable, highly blamable, in remaining at Norland after he first felt her influence over him to be more than it ought to be. In that, he could not be defended; but if he had injured her, how much more had he injured himself; if her case were pitiable, his was hopeless. His imprudence had made her miserable for a while; but it seemed to have deprived himself of all chance of ever being otherwise. She might in time regain tranquillity; but HE, what had he to look forward to? Could he ever be tolerably happy with Lucy Steele; could he, were his affection for herself out of the question, with his integrity, his delicacy, and well-informed mind, be satisfied with a wife like her—illiterate, artful, and selfish?

The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to every thing but her beauty and good nature; but the four succeeding years—years, which if rationally spent, give such improvement to the understanding, must have opened his eyes to her defects of education, while the same period of time, spent on her side in inferior society and more frivolous pursuits, had perhaps robbed her of that simplicity which might once have given an interesting character to her beauty.

If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself, his difficulties from his mother had seemed great, how much greater were they now likely to be, when the object of his engagement was undoubtedly inferior in connections, and probably inferior in fortune to herself. These difficulties, indeed, with a heart so alienated from Lucy, might not press very hard upon his patience; but melancholy was the state of the person by whom the expectation of family opposition and unkindness, could be felt as a relief!

As these considerations occurred to her in painful succession, she wept for him, more than for herself. Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to merit her present unhappiness, and consoled by the belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem, she thought she could even now, under the first smart of the heavy blow, command herself enough to guard every suspicion of the truth from her mother and sisters. And so well was she able to answer her own expectations, that when she joined them at dinner only two hours after she had first suffered the extinction of all her dearest hopes, no one would have supposed from the appearance of the sisters, that Elinor was mourning in secret over obstacles which must divide her for ever from the object of her love, and that Marianne was internally dwelling on the perfections of a man, of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly possessed, and whom she expected to see in every carriage which drove near their house.

The necessity of concealing from her mother and Marianne, what had been entrusted in confidence to herself, though it obliged her to unceasing exertion, was no aggravation of Elinor's distress. On the contrary it was a relief to her, to be spared the communication of what would give such affliction to them, and to be saved likewise from hearing that condemnation of Edward, which would probably flow from the excess of their partial affection for herself, and which was more than she felt equal to support.

From their counsel, or their conversation, she knew she could receive no assistance, their tenderness and sorrow must add to her distress, while her self-command would neither receive encouragement from their example nor from their praise. She was stronger alone, and her own good sense so well supported her, that her firmness was as unshaken, her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as with regrets so poignant and so fresh, it was possible for them to be.

Much as she had suffered from her first conversation with Lucy on the subject, she soon felt an earnest wish of renewing it; and this for more reasons than one. She wanted to hear many particulars of their engagement repeated again, she wanted more clearly to understand what Lucy really felt for Edward, whether there were any sincerity in her declaration of tender regard for him, and she particularly wanted to convince Lucy, by her readiness to enter on the matter again, and her calmness in conversing on it, that she was no otherwise interested in it than as a friend, which she very much feared her involuntary agitation, in their morning discourse, must have left at least doubtful. That Lucy was disposed to be jealous of her appeared very probable: it was plain that Edward had always spoken highly in her praise, not merely from Lucy's assertion, but from her venturing to trust her on so short a personal acquaintance, with a secret so confessedly and evidently important. And even Sir John's joking intelligence must have had some weight. But indeed, while Elinor remained so well assured within herself of being really beloved by Edward, it required no other consideration of probabilities to make it natural that Lucy should be jealous; and that she was so, her very confidence was a proof. What other reason for the disclosure of the affair could there be, but that Elinor might be informed by it of Lucy's superior claims on Edward, and be taught to avoid him in future? She had little difficulty in understanding thus much of her rival's intentions, and while she was firmly resolved to act by her as every principle of honour and honesty directed, to combat her own affection for Edward and to see him as little as possible; she could not deny herself the comfort of endeavouring to convince Lucy that her heart was unwounded. And as she could now have nothing more painful to hear on the subject than had already been told, she did not mistrust her own ability of going through a repetition of particulars with composure.

But it was not immediately that an opportunity of doing so could be commanded, though Lucy was as well disposed as herself to take advantage of any that occurred; for the weather was not often fine enough to allow of their joining in a walk, where they might most easily separate themselves from the others; and though they met at least every other evening either at the park or cottage, and chiefly at the former, they could not be supposed to meet for the sake of conversation. Such a thought would never enter either Sir John or Lady Middleton's head; and therefore very little leisure was ever given for a general chat, and none at all for particular discourse. They met for the sake of eating, drinking, and laughing together, playing at cards, or consequences, or any other game that was sufficiently noisy.

One or two meetings of this kind had taken place, without affording Elinor any chance of engaging Lucy in private, when Sir John called at the cottage one morning, to beg, in the name of charity, that they would all dine with Lady Middleton that day, as he was obliged to attend the club at Exeter, and she would otherwise be quite alone, except her mother and the two Miss Steeles. Elinor, who foresaw a fairer opening for the point she had in view, in such a party as this was likely to be, more at liberty among themselves under the tranquil and well-bred direction of Lady Middleton than when her husband united them together in one noisy purpose, immediately accepted the invitation; Margaret, with her mother's permission, was equally compliant, and Marianne, though always unwilling to join any of their parties, was persuaded by her mother, who could not bear to have her seclude herself from any chance of amusement, to go likewise.

The young ladies went, and Lady Middleton was happily preserved from the frightful solitude which had threatened her. The insipidity of the meeting was exactly such as Elinor had expected; it produced not one novelty of thought or expression, and nothing could be less interesting than the whole of their discourse both in the dining parlour and drawing room: to the latter, the children accompanied them, and while they remained there, she was too well convinced of the impossibility of engaging Lucy's attention to attempt it. They quitted it only with the removal of the tea-things. The card-table was then placed, and Elinor began to wonder at herself for having ever entertained a hope of finding time for conversation at the park. They all rose up in preparation for a round game.

"I am glad," said Lady Middleton to Lucy, "you are not going to finish poor little Annamaria's basket this evening; for I am sure it must hurt your eyes to work filigree by candlelight. And we will make the dear little love some amends for her disappointment to-morrow, and then I hope she will not much mind it."

This hint was enough, Lucy recollected herself instantly and replied, "Indeed you are very much mistaken, Lady Middleton; I am only waiting to know whether you can make your party without me, or I should have been at my filigree already. I would not disappoint the little angel for all the world: and if you want me at the card-table now, I am resolved to finish the basket after supper."

"You are very good, I hope it won't hurt your eyes—will you ring the bell for some working candles? My poor little girl would be sadly disappointed, I know, if the basket was not finished tomorrow, for though I told her it certainly would not, I am sure she depends upon having it done."

Lucy directly drew her work table near her and reseated herself with an alacrity and cheerfulness which seemed to infer that she could taste no greater delight than in making a filigree basket for a spoilt child.

Lady Middleton proposed a rubber of Casino to the others. No one made any objection but Marianne, who with her usual inattention to the forms of general civility, exclaimed, "Your Ladyship will have the goodness to excuse me—you know I detest cards. I shall go to the piano-forte; I have not touched it since it was tuned." And without farther ceremony, she turned away and walked to the instrument.

Lady Middleton looked as if she thanked heaven that she had never made so rude a speech.

"Marianne can never keep long from that instrument you know, ma'am," said Elinor, endeavouring to smooth away the offence; "and I do not much wonder at it; for it is the very best toned piano-forte I ever heard."

The remaining five were now to draw their cards.

"Perhaps," continued Elinor, "if I should happen to cut out, I may be of some use to Miss Lucy Steele, in rolling her papers for her; and there is so much still to be done to the basket, that it must be impossible I think for her labour singly, to finish it this evening. I should like the work exceedingly, if she would allow me a share in it."

"Indeed I shall be very much obliged to you for your help," cried Lucy, "for I find there is more to be done to it than I thought there was; and it would be a shocking thing to disappoint dear Annamaria after all."

"Oh! that would be terrible, indeed," said Miss Steele— "Dear little soul, how I do love her!"

"You are very kind," said Lady Middleton to Elinor; "and as you really like the work, perhaps you will be as well pleased not to cut in till another rubber, or will you take your chance now?"

Elinor joyfully profited by the first of these proposals, and thus by a little of that address which Marianne could never condescend to practise, gained her own end, and pleased Lady Middleton at the same time. Lucy made room for her with ready attention, and the two fair rivals were thus seated side by side at the same table, and, with the utmost harmony, engaged in forwarding the same work. The pianoforte at which Marianne, wrapped up in her own music and her own thoughts, had by this time forgotten that any body was in the room besides herself, was luckily so near them that Miss Dashwood now judged she might safely, under the shelter of its noise, introduce the interesting subject, without any risk of being heard at the card-table.



　　尽管埃丽诺一般说来并不相信露西的话，可她经过认真考虑，却再也不能怀疑这件事情的真实性，因为没有什么东西可以诱使她编造出这种谎言。因此，露西称为事实的这些情况，埃丽诺无法再怀疑，而且也不敢再怀疑。这些情况都有充分的证据，这些证据或则大致属实，或则确凿无疑，除了她自己的主观愿望之外，无论如何也得不出相反的结论。他们在普赖特先生家的际通是其他情况的依据，既无可置疑，又令人惊愕。爱德华在普利茅斯附近的访问，他的忧郁心情，他对自己前途的忿忿不满，他对她本人的反复无常，斯蒂尔妹妹对诺兰庄园和她们的亲属了如指掌（这常使她感到惊奇），那幅画像，那封信，那只戒指，这一切构成了一连串证据，打消了她怕冤枉他的一切顾虑，证明他亏待了她，这是任何偏爱也改变不了的事实。她憎恶他的这种行径，悔恨自己受了欺骗，一时间只知道自我怜悯。但她心里转瞬又涌起别的念头，别的考虑。难道爱德华一直在存心欺骗她？难道他是一片虚情假意？难道他与露西的订婚是真心实意的订婚？不，不管从前情况如何，她现在并不这么认为。他只喜欢她一个人，这一点她决不会搞错。在诺兰庄园，她的母亲、妹妹、范妮都知道他喜欢她。这并不是她的虚荣引起的错觉。他当然是爱她的。这一信念使她心里得到了多大的安慰！有了这一点，她还有什么不可原谅他的！想当初，他已经开始感到她对他有着一股异乎寻常的诱惑力，却偏要继续呆在诺兰庄园，真该受到责备。在这一点上，他是无可辩白的。不过，如果说他伤害了她，那他更伤害了他自己！如果说她的情况是令人怜悯的，那他的情况则是无可挽回的。他的鲁莽行动给她带来了一时的痛苦；不过他自己似乎永远失去了幸福的机会。她迟早是会恢复平静的，可是他，如今还有什么盼头呢？他和露西．斯蒂尔在一起会感到幸福吗？象他那样诚实、文雅、见识广博的人，假使连她埃丽诺都不中意，能对露西这样一个无知、狡诈、自私自利的妻子感到满意吗？
　　爱德华当时只有十九岁，青年人的狂爱热恋自然使他陷入了盲目，除了露西的美貌和温顺之外，别的一概视而不见。但是以后的四年——如果合理地度过这四年，可以使人长智不少——他也该发现她教育上的缺欠。而在这同时，露西由于常和下等人交往，追求低级趣味，也许早就失去了昔日的天真，这种天真一度为她的美貌增添了几分情趣。
　　爱德华与埃丽诺成婚尚且要遇到他母亲设置的种种障碍，那么他选择一个门第比她低下、财产很可能不及她多的女人作配偶，岂不是更加困难重重！当然，他在感情上与露西还很疏远，这些困难还不至于使他忍耐不住。但是，这位本来对家庭的反对和刁难可以感到欣慰的人，他的心情却是抑郁的！
　　埃丽诺连续痛苦地思考着，不禁为他（不是为她自己）骤然落泪。使她坚信不疑的是，她没有做出什么事情而活该遭受目前的不幸；同时使她感到欣慰的是，爱德华也没做出什么事情而不配受到她的器重。她觉得，即使现在，就在她忍受这沉重打击的头一阵剧痛之际，她也能尽量克制自己，以防母亲和妹妹们对事实真相产生怀疑。她是这么期望的，也是不折不扣地这么做的。就在她的美好，希望破灭后仅仅两个小时，她就加入她们一道吃晚饭，结果从妹妹们的表情上看得出来，谁也没有想到埃丽诺正在为即将把她和她心爱的人永远隔离开的种种障碍而暗自悲伤；而玛丽安却在暗中眷念着一位十全十美的情人，认为他的心完全被她迷住了，每一辆，马车驶近她们房舍时，她都期望着能见到他。
　　埃丽诺虽然不得不一忍再忍，把露西给她讲的私房话始终瞒着母亲和玛丽安，但这并未加深她的痛苦。相反，使她感到宽慰的是，她用不着告诉她们一些只会给她们带来痛苦的伤心事，因而省得听见她们指责爱德华。由于大家过于偏爱她，这种指责是很可能的，那将是她不堪忍受的。
　　她知道，她从她们的忠告或是谈话里得不到帮助。她们的温情和悲伤只能增加她的痛苦，而对于她的自我克制，她们既不会通过以身作则，又不会通过正面赞扬加以鼓励。她独自一个人的时候反倒更刚强些，她能非常理智地控制自己，尽管刚刚遇到如此痛心疾首的事情，她还是尽量表现得坚定不移，始终显得高高兴兴的。
　　虽然她与露西在这个问题上的头一次谈话让她吃尽了苦头，但是她转眼间又渴望和她重谈—次，而且理由不止一个。她想听她重新介绍一些有关他们订婚的许多详细情况，想更清楚地了解一下露西对爱德华的真实感情，看看她是不是真像她宣称的那样对他一往情深。她还特别想通过主动地、心平气和地再谈谈这件事，让露西相信：她只不过是以朋友的身份来关心此事的，而这一点从早晨的谈话来看，由于她不知不觉地变得十分焦灼不安，因而至少是令人怀疑的。看样子，露西很可能妒忌她。显而易见，爱德华总是在称赞她，这不仅从露西的话里听得出来，而且还表现在她才认识她这么短时间，就大胆地自她吐露了如此重大的一桩秘密。甚至连约翰爵士开玩笑的话，大概也起到一定作用。的确，埃丽诺既然深信爱德华真心喜爱自己，她也就不必去考虑别的可能性，便自然而然地认为露西在妒忌她。露西也确实在妒忌她，她的私房话就是个证明。露西透露这桩事，除了想告诉埃丽诺爱德华是属于她的，让她以后少同他接触之外，还会有什么别的动机呢？她不难理解她的情敌的这番用意，她决心切实按照真诚体面的原则来对待她，克制住她对爱德华的感情，尽量少同他见面。同时，她还要聊以自慰地向露西表明，她并不为此感到伤心，如今在这个问题上，她不会听到比已经听到的更使她痛苦的事了，因此她相信自己能够平心静气地听露西把详情重新叙说一遍。
　　虽然露西像她一样，也很想找个机会再谈谈，但是这样的机会并不是要来马上就来。本来一起出去散散步最容易甩开众人，谁料天公总不作美，容不得她们出去散步。虽说她们至少每隔一天晚上就有一次聚会，不是在庄园就是在乡舍（主要是在庄园），但那都不是为了聚谈，约翰爵士和米德尔顿夫人从未这样想过，因此大家很少有一起闲谈的时间，更没有个别交谈的机会。大家聚在一起就是，为了吃喝缩笑，打打牌，玩玩康西昆司，或是搞些其他吵吵嚷暖的游戏。
　　她们如此这般地聚会了一两次，但埃丽诺就是得不到机会同露西私下交谈。一天早晨，约翰爵士来到乡余，以仁爱的名义，恳求达什伍德母女当晚能同术德尔顿夫人共进晚餐，因为他要前往埃克塞特俱乐部，米德尔顿夫人只有她母亲和两位斯蒂尔小姐作伴，她们母女若是不去，夫人将会感到十分孤寂。埃丽诺觉得，参加这样一次晚宴倒可能是她了却心愿的大好时机，因为在米德尔顿夫人安静而有素养的主持下，比她丈夫把大伙几凑到—，块大吵大闹来得自由自在，于是她当即接受了邀请。玛格丽特得到母亲的许可，同样满口应承，玛丽安一向不愿参加他们的聚会，怎奈母亲不忍心让她错过任何娱乐机会，硬是说服她跟着一起去。
　　三位小姐前来赴约，差．，点陷入可怕的孤寂之中的米德尔顿夫人终于幸运地得救了。恰似埃丽诺所料，这次聚会十分枯燥乏味。整个晚上没有出现一个新奇想法、一句新鲜辞令，整个谈话从餐厅到客厅，索然寡味到无以复加的地步。几个孩子陪着她们来到客厅，埃丽诺心里明白，只要他们呆在那里，她就休想能有机会与露西交谈。茶具端走之后，孩子们才离开客厅。转而摆好了牌桌，埃丽诺开始纳闷，她怎么能指望在这里找到谈话的机会呢？这时，大家都纷纷起身，准备玩一项轮回牌戏。
　　“我很高兴，”米德尔顿夫人对露西说，“你今晚不打算给可怜的小安娜玛丽亚织好小篮子，因为在烛光下做编织活一定很伤眼睛。让这可爱的小宝贝扫兴啦，我们明人再给她补偿吧。但愿她不要太不高兴。”
　　有这点暗示就足够了。露西立即收住了心，回答说：“其实，你完全搞错了，米德尔顿夫人，我只是在等着看看你们玩牌没我行不行，不然我早就动手织起来了。我无论如何也不能叫这小天使扫兴。你要是现在叫我打牌，我决计在晚饭后织好篮子。”
　　“你真好。我希望可别伤了你的眼晴——你是不是拉拉铃，再要些蜡烛来？我知道，假使那小篮子明天还织不好，我那可怜的小姑娘可要大失所望了，因为尽管我告诉她明天肯定织不好，她却准以为织得好。”
　　露西马上将针线台往跟前一拉，欣然坐了下来，看她那兴致勃勃的样子，似乎什么事情也比不上给一个宠坏了的孩子编织篮子更使她感到高兴。
　　米德尔顿夫人提议，来一局卡西诺。大家都不反对，唯独玛丽安因为平素就不拘礼节，这时大声嚷道：“夫人行行好，就免了我吧——你知道我讨厌打牌。我想去弹弹钢琴。自从调过音以后，我还没碰过呢。”她也没再客气两句，便转身朝钢琴走去。
　　米德尔顿夫人那副神情，仿佛在谢天谢地：她可从来没说过这么冒昧无礼的话。
　　“你知道，夫人，玛丽安与那台钢琴结下了不解之缘，”埃丽诺说，极力想替妹妹的冒昧无礼打打圆场。“我并不感到奇怪，因为那是我所听到的音质最佳的钢琴。”
　　剩下的五人就要抽牌。
　　“也许，”埃丽诺接着说，“我如果能不打牌，倒能给露西．斯蒂尔小姐帮帮忙，替她卷卷纸。我看那篮子还差得远呢，如果让她一个人来干，今晚肯定完不成。她若是肯让我插手的话，我非常喜欢干这个活。”
　　“你如果能帮忙，我倒真要感激不尽哩，”露西嚷道，“因为我发现，我原来算计错了，这要费不少工夫呢。万一让可爱的安娜玛丽亚失望了，那该多糟糕啊。”
　　“哦！那实在是太糟糕啦，”斯蒂尔小姐说。“可爱的小家伙，我多么喜爱她！”
　　“你真客气，”米德尔顿夫人对埃丽诺说。“你既然真喜欢这活，是不是请你到下一局再入桌，还是现在先试试手气？”
　　埃丽诺愉快地采纳了前一条建议，于是，她就凭着玛丽安一向不屑一试的委婉巧妙的几句话，既达到了自己的目的，又讨好了米德尔顿夫人。露西爽快地给她让了个地方，就这样，两位姿容美丽的情敌肩并肩地坐在同一张桌前，极其融洽地做着同一件活计。这时，玛丽安沉醉在乐曲和暇想之中，全然忘记室内还有别人，只顾埋头弹奏。侥幸的是，钢琴离两位情敌很近，达什伍德小姐断定，有这糟杂的琴声做掩护，她尽可放心大胆地提出那个有趣的话题，牌桌上的人保险听不见。 　
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Twenty-four

In a firm, though cautious tone, Elinor thus began.

"I should be undeserving of the confidence you have honoured me with, if I felt no desire for its continuance, or no farther curiosity on its subject. I will not apologize therefore for bringing it forward again."

"Thank you," cried Lucy warmly, "for breaking the ice; you have set my heart at ease by it; for I was somehow or other afraid I had offended you by what I told you that Monday."

"Offended me! How could you suppose so? Believe me," and Elinor spoke it with the truest sincerity, "nothing could be farther from my intention than to give you such an idea. Could you have a motive for the trust, that was not honourable and flattering to me?"

"And yet I do assure you," replied Lucy, her little sharp eyes full of meaning, "there seemed to me to be a coldness and displeasure in your manner that made me quite uncomfortable. I felt sure that you was angry with me; and have been quarrelling with myself ever since, for having took such a liberty as to trouble you with my affairs. But I am very glad to find it was only my own fancy, and that you really do not blame me. If you knew what a consolation it was to me to relieve my heart speaking to you of what I am always thinking of every moment of my life, your compassion would make you overlook every thing else I am sure."

"Indeed, I can easily believe that it was a very great relief to you, to acknowledge your situation to me, and be assured that you shall never have reason to repent it. Your case is a very unfortunate one; you seem to me to be surrounded with difficulties, and you will have need of all your mutual affection to support you under them. Mr. Ferrars, I believe, is entirely dependent on his mother."

"He has only two thousand pounds of his own; it would be madness to marry upon that, though for my own part, I could give up every prospect of more without a sigh. I have been always used to a very small income, and could struggle with any poverty for him; but I love him too well to be the selfish means of robbing him, perhaps, of all that his mother might give him if he married to please her. We must wait, it may be for many years. With almost every other man in the world, it would be an alarming prospect; but Edward's affection and constancy nothing can deprive me of I know."

"That conviction must be every thing to you; and he is undoubtedly supported by the same trust in your's. If the strength of your reciprocal attachment had failed, as between many people, and under many circumstances it naturally would during a four years' engagement, your situation would have been pitiable, indeed."

Lucy here looked up; but Elinor was careful in guarding her countenance from every expression that could give her words a suspicious tendency.

"Edward's love for me," said Lucy, "has been pretty well put to the test, by our long, very long absence since we were first engaged, and it has stood the trial so well, that I should be unpardonable to doubt it now. I can safely say that he has never gave me one moment's alarm on that account from the first."

Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this assertion.

Lucy went on. "I am rather of a jealous temper too by nature, and from our different situations in life, from his being so much more in the world than me, and our continual separation, I was enough inclined for suspicion, to have found out the truth in an instant, if there had been the slightest alteration in his behaviour to me when we met, or any lowness of spirits that I could not account for, or if he had talked more of one lady than another, or seemed in any respect less happy at Longstaple than he used to be. I do not mean to say that I am particularly observant or quick-sighted in general, but in such a case I am sure I could not be deceived."

"All this," thought Elinor, "is very pretty; but it can impose upon neither of us."

"But what," said she after a short silence, "are your views? or have you none but that of waiting for Mrs. Ferrars's death, which is a melancholy and shocking extremity?—Is her son determined to submit to this, and to all the tediousness of the many years of suspense in which it may involve you, rather than run the risk of her displeasure for a while by owning the truth?"

"If we could be certain that it would be only for a while! But Mrs. Ferrars is a very headstrong proud woman, and in her first fit of anger upon hearing it, would very likely secure every thing to Robert, and the idea of that, for Edward's sake, frightens away all my inclination for hasty measures."

"And for your own sake too, or you are carrying your disinterestedness beyond reason."

Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent.

"Do you know Mr. Robert Ferrars?" asked Elinor.

"Not at all—I never saw him; but I fancy he is very unlike his brother—silly and a great coxcomb."

"A great coxcomb!" repeated Miss Steele, whose ear had caught those words by a sudden pause in Marianne's music.— "Oh, they are talking of their favourite beaux, I dare say."

"No sister," cried Lucy, "you are mistaken there, our favourite beaux are NOT great coxcombs."

"I can answer for it that Miss Dashwood's is not," said Mrs. Jennings, laughing heartily; "for he is one of the modestest, prettiest behaved young men I ever saw; but as for Lucy, she is such a sly little creature, there is no finding out who SHE likes."

"Oh," cried Miss Steele, looking significantly round at them, "I dare say Lucy's beau is quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss Dashwood's."

Elinor blushed in spite of herself. Lucy bit her lip, and looked angrily at her sister. A mutual silence took place for some time. Lucy first put an end to it by saying in a lower tone, though Marianne was then giving them the powerful protection of a very magnificent concerto—

"I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has lately come into my head, for bringing matters to bear; indeed I am bound to let you into the secret, for you are a party concerned. I dare say you have seen enough of Edward to know that he would prefer the church to every other profession; now my plan is that he should take orders as soon as he can, and then through your interest, which I am sure you would be kind enough to use out of friendship for him, and I hope out of some regard to me, your brother might be persuaded to give him Norland living; which I understand is a very good one, and the present incumbent not likely to live a great while. That would be enough for us to marry upon, and we might trust to time and chance for the rest."

"I should always be happy," replied Elinor, "to show any mark of my esteem and friendship for Mr. Ferrars; but do you not perceive that my interest on such an occasion would be perfectly unnecessary? He is brother to Mrs. John Dashwood—THAT must be recommendation enough to her husband."

"But Mrs. John Dashwood would not much approve of Edward's going into orders."

"Then I rather suspect that my interest would do very little."

They were again silent for many minutes. At length Lucy exclaimed with a deep sigh,

"I believe it would be the wisest way to put an end to the business at once by dissolving the engagement. We seem so beset with difficulties on every side, that though it would make us miserable for a time, we should be happier perhaps in the end. But you will not give me your advice, Miss Dashwood?"

"No," answered Elinor, with a smile, which concealed very agitated feelings, "on such a subject I certainly will not. You know very well that my opinion would have no weight with you, unless it were on the side of your wishes."

"Indeed you wrong me," replied Lucy, with great solemnity; "I know nobody of whose judgment I think so highly as I do of yours; and I do really believe, that if you was to say to me, 'I advise you by all means to put an end to your engagement with Edward Ferrars, it will be more for the happiness of both of you,' I should resolve upon doing it immediately."

Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife, and replied, "This compliment would effectually frighten me from giving any opinion on the subject had I formed one. It raises my influence much too high; the power of dividing two people so tenderly attached is too much for an indifferent person."

"'Tis because you are an indifferent person," said Lucy, with some pique, and laying a particular stress on those words, "that your judgment might justly have such weight with me. If you could be supposed to be biased in any respect by your own feelings, your opinion would not be worth having."

Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this, lest they might provoke each other to an unsuitable increase of ease and unreserve; and was even partly determined never to mention the subject again. Another pause therefore of many minutes' duration, succeeded this speech, and Lucy was still the first to end it.

"Shall you be in town this winter, Miss Dashwood?" said she with all her accustomary complacency.

"Certainly not."

"I am sorry for that," returned the other, while her eyes brightened at the information, "it would have gave me such pleasure to meet you there! But I dare say you will go for all that. To be sure, your brother and sister will ask you to come to them."

"It will not be in my power to accept their invitation if they do."

"How unlucky that is! I had quite depended upon meeting you there. Anne and me are to go the latter end of January to some relations who have been wanting us to visit them these several years! But I only go for the sake of seeing Edward. He will be there in February, otherwise London would have no charms for me; I have not spirits for it."

Elinor was soon called to the card-table by the conclusion of the first rubber, and the confidential discourse of the two ladies was therefore at an end, to which both of them submitted without any reluctance, for nothing had been said on either side to make them dislike each other less than they had done before; and Elinor sat down to the card table with the melancholy persuasion that Edward was not only without affection for the person who was to be his wife; but that he had not even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage, which sincere affection on HER side would have given, for self-interest alone could induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement, of which she seemed so thoroughly aware that he was weary.

From this time the subject was never revived by Elinor, and when entered on by Lucy, who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing it, and was particularly careful to inform her confidante, of her happiness whenever she received a letter from Edward, it was treated by the former with calmness and caution, and dismissed as soon as civility would allow; for she felt such conversations to be an indulgence which Lucy did not deserve, and which were dangerous to herself.

The visit of the Miss Steeles at Barton Park was lengthened far beyond what the first invitation implied. Their favour increased; they could not be spared; Sir John would not hear of their going; and in spite of their numerous and long arranged engagements in Exeter, in spite of the absolute necessity of returning to fulfill them immediately, which was in full force at the end of every week, they were prevailed on to stay nearly two months at the park, and to assist in the due celebration of that festival which requires a more than ordinary share of private balls and large dinners to proclaim its importance.



　　埃丽诺以坚定而审慎的语气，开口说道：
　　“我有幸得到你的信任，若是不要求你继续说下去，不好奇地穷根究底，岂不辜负了你对我的信任。因此，我不禁冒昧，想再提出这个话题。”
　　“谢谢你打破了僵局，”露西激动地嚷道，“你这样讲就让我放心啦。不知怎么搞的，我总是担心星期一那天说话得罪了你。”
　　“得罪了我！你想到哪里去了？请相信我，”埃丽诺极其诚恳地说道，“我不愿意让你产生这样的看法。你对我这样推心置腹，难道还会抱有让我感到不体面、不愉快的动机？”
　　“不过，说实在的，”露西回答说，一双敏锐的小眼睛意味深长地望着她，“你当时的态度似乎很冷淡，很不高兴，搞得我十分尴尬。我想你准是生我的气了。此后我一直在怪罪自己，不该冒昧地拿我自己的事情打扰你。不过我很高兴地发现，这只不过是我的错觉，你并没真地责怪我，说实在话，你若是知道我向你倾吐一下我无时无刻不在思量的真心话，心里觉得有多么宽慰，你就会同情我，而不计较别的东西。”
　　“的确，我不难想象，你把你的处境告诉我，而且确信一辈子不用后悔，这对你真是个莫大的宽慰。你们的情况十分不幸，后来好似是困难重重，你们需要依靠相互的钟情坚持下去。我想，费拉斯先生完全依赖于他母亲。”
　　“他自己只有两千镑的收入，单靠这点钱结婚，那简直是发疯。不过就我自己来说，我可以毫无怨气地放弃更高的追求。我一直习惯于微薄的收入，为了他我可以与贫穷作斗争。但是我太爱他了，他若是娶个使他母亲中意的太太，也许会得到她的不少财产，我不想自私自利地让爱德华丧失掉这些财产。我们必须等待，也许要等许多年。对天下几乎所有的男人来说，这是个令人不寒而栗的前景。可是我知道，爱德华对我的一片深情和忠贞不渝是什么力量也剥夺不了的。”
　　“你有这个信念，这对你是至关紧要的。毫无疑问，他对你也抱有同样的信念。万一你们相互间情淡爱弛（这是在许多人之间，许多情况下，在四年订婚期间经常发生的现象），你的境况确实会是很可怜的。”
　　露西听到这儿抬起眼来。哪知埃丽诺十分谨慎，不露声色，让人觉察不出她的话里有什么可疑的意向。
　　“爱德华对我的爱情，”露西说，“自从我们订婚以来，经受了长期分离的严峻考验，我再去妄加怀疑，那是无法宽恕的。我可以万无一失地说：他从一开始，从未由于这个原因而给我带来一时一刻的惊扰。”
　　埃丽诺听到她所说的，简直不知道是应该付之一笑，还是应该为之叹息。
　　露西继续往下说。“我生性也好妒忌，因为我们的生活处境不同，他比我见的世面多得多，再加上我们又长期分离，我老爱疑神疑鬼。我们见面时，哪伯他对我的态度发生一点细微的变化，他的情绪出现莫名其妙的低落现象，他对某一个女人比对别的女人谈论得多了些，他在郎斯特普尔显得不像过去那么快乐，我马上就能觉察出来。我并不是说，我的观察力一般都很敏锐，眼睛一般都很尖，但是在这种情况下，我肯定是不会受蒙骗的。”
　　“说得倒很动听，”埃丽诺心里在想，“可是我们两人谁也不会上当受骗。”
　　“不过，”她稍许沉默了一刻，然后说，“你的观点如何？还是你什么观点也没有，而只是采取一个今人忧伤而震惊的极端措施，就等着费拉斯太太一死了事？难道她儿子就甘心屈服，打定主意拖累着你，这么长年悬吊着，索然无味地生活下去，而不肯冒着惹她一时不快的风险，干脆向她说明事实真相？”
　　“我们若是能肯定她只是一时不快就好啦！可惜费拉斯太太是个刚愎自用、妄自尊大的女人，一听到这消息，发起怒来，很可能把所有财产都交给罗伯特。一想到这里，看在爱德华的份上，竟吓得我不敢草率行事。”
　　“也看在你自己的份上，不然你的自我牺牲就不可理解了。”
　　露西又瞅瞅埃丽诺，可是没有作声。
　　“你认识罗伯特．费拉斯先生吗？”埃丽诺问道。
　　“一点不认识——我从没见过他。不过，我想他与他哥哥大不一样——傻乎乎的，是个十足的花花公子。”
　　“十足的花花公子。”斯蒂尔小姐重复了一声，她是在玛丽安的琴声突然中断时，听到这几个词的。“噢！她们准是在议论她们的心上人。”
　　“不，姐姐，”露西嚷道，“你搞错啦，我们的心上人可不是十足的花花公子。”
　　“我敢担保，达什伍德小姐的心上人不是花花公子，”詹宁斯太太说着，纵情笑了。“他是我见过的最谦虚、最文雅的一个年轻人。不过，说到露西，她是个狡猾的小精怪，谁也不知道她喜欢谁。”
　　“噢！”斯蒂尔小姐嚷道，一面意味深长地望着她俩，“也许，露西的心上人和达什伍德小姐的心上人一样谦虚，一样文雅。”
　　埃丽诺不由得羞得满脸通红。露西咬咬嘴唇，愤怒地瞪着她姐姐。两人沉默了一阵。露西首先打破了沉默，虽然玛丽安弹起了一支极其优美的协奏曲，给她们提供了有效的掩护，但她说话的声音还是压得很低：
　　“我想坦率地告诉你，我最近想到了一个切实可行的好办法。的确，我有责任让你知道这个秘密，因为事情与你有关。你常见到爱德华，一定知道他最喜欢当牧师。我的想法是这样的：他尽快地接受圣职，然后希望你能出自对他的友情和对我的关心，利用你的影响，劝说你哥哥把诺兰的牧师职位赐给他。我听说这是个很不错的职务，而且现在的牧师也活不多久了。这就可以保证我们先结婚，余下的事情再听天由命吧。”
　　“我一向乐于表示我对费拉斯先生的敬意和友情，”埃丽诺答道。“不过，难道你不觉得我在这种场合插一手完全大可不必吗？他是约翰．达什伍德夫人的弟弟＿＿就凭这一点，她丈夫也会提拔他的。”
　　“可是约翰．达什伍德夫人并不同意爱德华去当牧师。”
　　“这样的话，我觉得我去说更是无济于事。”
　　她们又沉默了好半天。最后，露西深深叹了口气，大声说道：
　　“我认为，最明智的办法还是解除婚约，立即终止这门亲事。我们好像困难重重，四面受阻，虽然要痛苦一阵子，但是最终也许会更幸福些。不过，达什伍德小姐，是不是请你给我出出主意？”
　　“不，”埃丽诺答道，她脸上的微笑掩饰着内心的忐忑不安。“在这个问题上，我当然不会给你出什么主意。你心里很有数，我的意见除非顺从你的意愿，不然对你是不起作用的。”
　　“说真的，你冤枉了我，”露西一本正经地答遏。“在我认识的人中，我最尊重你的意见。我的确相信，假使你对我说：‘我劝你无论如何要取消同爱德华．费拉斯的婚约，这会使你们两个更幸福。’那我就会决定马上这样做。”，
　　埃丽诺为爱德华未婚妻的虚情假意感到脸红，她回答说：“假如我在这个问题上真有什么意见可言的话，一听到你这番恭维，准给吓得不敢开口了。你把我的声威抬举得过高了。要把一对情深意切的恋人分开，对一个局外人来说，实在是无能为力的。”
　　“正因为你是个局外人，”露西有点生气地说道，特别加重了那后几个字，“你的意见才理所当然地受到我的重视。如果我觉得你带有任何偏见，就犯不着去征求你的意见，”
　　埃丽诺认为，最好对此不加辩解，以免相互间变得过于随随便便、无拘无束。她甚至在一定程度上下了决心，再也不提这个话题。因此，露西说完后，又沉寂了好几分钟，而且还是露西首先打破了沉默。
　　“你今年冬天去城里吗，达什伍德小姐？，"她带着她惯常的自鸣得意的神气问道。
　　“当然不去。”
　　“真可惜，”露西回答说，其实她一听那话，眼里不禁露出了喜色。“我若是能在城里见到你，那该有多高兴啊！不过，尽管如此，你还是肯定会去的。毫无疑问，你哥嫂会请你去作客的。”
　　“他们即使邀请，我也不能接受。”
　　“这太不幸啦！我本来一直指望在城里见到你。一月底，安妮和我要去探访几个亲友，他们这几年总是叫我们去！不过，我只是为了去见见爱德华，他二月份到那里去。不然的话，伦敦对我—点儿惑力也没有，我才没有兴致去那里呢，”
　　过了不一会儿，牌桌上打完了第一局，埃丽诺也就被叫了过去，于是两位小姐的秘密交谈便告结束。不过结束得并不勉强，因为双方没有说上什么投机话，可以减少她们相互之间的厌恶之情。埃丽诺在牌桌前坐定，忧伤地判定，爱德华不仅不喜欢他这位未婚妻，而且他即使同她结了婚，也不会感到多么幸福，只有她埃丽诺的真挚爱情才能给他婚后带来幸福；因为只是凭着自私自利这一点，才能使得一个女人保持同男方的婚约，而这个女人似乎完全意识到，男方已经厌倦这种婚约。
　　从此之后，埃丽诺再也没有重新提起这个话题。露西却很少错过旧话重提的机会，特别是当她收到爱德华的来信时，总要别有心计地向她的知己女友报报喜。每逢这种情况，埃丽诺都能泰然处之，谨慎对待，在礼貌允许的范围内尽快结束这些谈论。因为她觉得这种谈话对露西是一种不配享受的乐趣，对她自己却是危险的。
　　两位斯蒂尔小姐对巴顿庄园的访问一再延长，大大超过了最初邀请时双方认可的日期。她们越来越受人喜爱，想走也走不了。约翰爵士坚决不让她们走。虽然她们在埃克塞特有一大堆早就安排好的事情，急需她们马上回去处理，尤其是越到周末事情越繁忙，但她们还是被说服在巴顿庄园呆了近两个月，并且协助主人家好好庆祝一下圣诞节，因为这个节日需要比一般节日举行更多的家庭舞会和大型晚宴，借以显示其重要性。 　
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Twenty-five

Though Mrs. Jennings was in the habit of spending a large portion of the year at the houses of her children and friends, she was not without a settled habitation of her own. Since the death of her husband, who had traded with success in a less elegant part of the town, she had resided every winter in a house in one of the streets near Portman Square. Towards this home, she began on the approach of January to turn her thoughts, and thither she one day abruptly, and very unexpectedly by them, asked the elder Misses Dashwood to accompany her. Elinor, without observing the varying complexion of her sister, and the animated look which spoke no indifference to the plan, immediately gave a grateful but absolute denial for both, in which she believed herself to be speaking their united inclinations. The reason alleged was their determined resolution of not leaving their mother at that time of the year. Mrs. Jennings received the refusal with some surprise, and repeated her invitation immediately.

"Oh, Lord! I am sure your mother can spare you very well, and I DO beg you will favour me with your company, for I've quite set my heart upon it. Don't fancy that you will be any inconvenience to me, for I shan't put myself at all out of my way for you. It will only be sending Betty by the coach, and I hope I can afford THAT. We three shall be able to go very well in my chaise; and when we are in town, if you do not like to go wherever I do, well and good, you may always go with one of my daughters. I am sure your mother will not object to it; for I have had such good luck in getting my own children off my hands that she will think me a very fit person to have the charge of you; and if I don't get one of you at least well married before I have done with you, it shall not be my fault. I shall speak a good word for you to all the young men, you may depend upon it."

"I have a notion," said Sir John, "that Miss Marianne would not object to such a scheme, if her elder sister would come into it. It is very hard indeed that she should not have a little pleasure, because Miss Dashwood does not wish it. So I would advise you two, to set off for town, when you are tired of Barton, without saying a word to Miss Dashwood about it."

"Nay," cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure I shall be monstrous glad of Miss Marianne's company, whether Miss Dashwood will go or not, only the more the merrier say I, and I thought it would be more comfortable for them to be together; because, if they got tired of me, they might talk to one another, and laugh at my old ways behind my back. But one or the other, if not both of them, I must have. Lord bless me! how do you think I can live poking by myself, I who have been always used till this winter to have Charlotte with me. Come, Miss Marianne, let us strike hands upon the bargain, and if Miss Dashwood will change her mind by and bye, why so much the better."

"I thank you, ma'am, sincerely thank you," said Marianne, with warmth: "your invitation has insured my gratitude for ever, and it would give me such happiness, yes, almost the greatest happiness I am capable of, to be able to accept it. But my mother, my dearest, kindest mother,—I feel the justice of what Elinor has urged, and if she were to be made less happy, less comfortable by our absence—Oh! no, nothing should tempt me to leave her. It should not, must not be a struggle."

Mrs. Jennings repeated her assurance that Mrs. Dashwood could spare them perfectly well; and Elinor, who now understood her sister, and saw to what indifference to almost every thing else she was carried by her eagerness to be with Willoughby again, made no farther direct opposition to the plan, and merely referred it to her mother's decision, from whom however she scarcely expected to receive any support in her endeavour to prevent a visit, which she could not approve of for Marianne, and which on her own account she had particular reasons to avoid. Whatever Marianne was desirous of, her mother would be eager to promote—she could not expect to influence the latter to cautiousness of conduct in an affair respecting which she had never been able to inspire her with distrust; and she dared not explain the motive of her own disinclination for going to London. That Marianne, fastidious as she was, thoroughly acquainted with Mrs. Jennings' manners, and invariably disgusted by them, should overlook every inconvenience of that kind, should disregard whatever must be most wounding to her irritable feelings, in her pursuit of one object, was such a proof, so strong, so full, of the importance of that object to her, as Elinor, in spite of all that had passed, was not prepared to witness.

On being informed of the invitation, Mrs. Dashwood, persuaded that such an excursion would be productive of much amusement to both her daughters, and perceiving through all her affectionate attention to herself, how much the heart of Marianne was in it, would not hear of their declining the offer upon HER account; insisted on their both accepting it directly; and then began to foresee, with her usual cheerfulness, a variety of advantages that would accrue to them all, from this separation.

"I am delighted with the plan," she cried, "it is exactly what I could wish. Margaret and I shall be as much benefited by it as yourselves. When you and the Middletons are gone, we shall go on so quietly and happily together with our books and our music! You will find Margaret so improved when you come back again! I have a little plan of alteration for your bedrooms too, which may now be performed without any inconvenience to any one. It is very right that you SHOULD go to town; I would have every young woman of your condition in life acquainted with the manners and amusements of London. You will be under the care of a motherly good sort of woman, of whose kindness to you I can have no doubt. And in all probability you will see your brother, and whatever may be his faults, or the faults of his wife, when I consider whose son he is, I cannot bear to have you so wholly estranged from each other."

"Though with your usual anxiety for our happiness," said Elinor, "you have been obviating every impediment to the present scheme which occurred to you, there is still one objection which, in my opinion, cannot be so easily removed."

Marianne's countenance sunk.

"And what," said Mrs. Dashwood, "is my dear prudent Elinor going to suggest? What formidable obstacle is she now to bring forward? Do let me hear a word about the expense of it."

"My objection is this; though I think very well of Mrs. Jennings's heart, she is not a woman whose society can afford us pleasure, or whose protection will give us consequence."

"That is very true," replied her mother, "but of her society, separately from that of other people, you will scarcely have any thing at all, and you will almost always appear in public with Lady Middleton."

"If Elinor is frightened away by her dislike of Mrs. Jennings," said Marianne, "at least it need not prevent MY accepting her invitation. I have no such scruples, and I am sure I could put up with every unpleasantness of that kind with very little effort."

Elinor could not help smiling at this display of indifference towards the manners of a person, to whom she had often had difficulty in persuading Marianne to behave with tolerable politeness; and resolved within herself, that if her sister persisted in going, she would go likewise, as she did not think it proper that Marianne should be left to the sole guidance of her own judgment, or that Mrs. Jennings should be abandoned to the mercy of Marianne for all the comfort of her domestic hours. To this determination she was the more easily reconciled, by recollecting that Edward Ferrars, by Lucy's account, was not to be in town before February; and that their visit, without any unreasonable abridgement, might be previously finished.

"I will have you BOTH go," said Mrs. Dashwood; "these objections are nonsensical. You will have much pleasure in being in London, and especially in being together; and if Elinor would ever condescend to anticipate enjoyment, she would foresee it there from a variety of sources; she would, perhaps, expect some from improving her acquaintance with her sister-in-law's family."

Elinor had often wished for an opportunity of attempting to weaken her mother's dependence on the attachment of Edward and herself, that the shock might be less when the whole truth were revealed, and now on this attack, though almost hopeless of success, she forced herself to begin her design by saying, as calmly as she could, "I like Edward Ferrars very much, and shall always be glad to see him; but as to the rest of the family, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, whether I am ever known to them or not."

Mrs. Dashwood smiled, and said nothing. Marianne lifted up her eyes in astonishment, and Elinor conjectured that she might as well have held her tongue.

After very little farther discourse, it was finally settled that the invitation should be fully accepted. Mrs. Jennings received the information with a great deal of joy, and many assurances of kindness and care; nor was it a matter of pleasure merely to her. Sir John was delighted; for to a man, whose prevailing anxiety was the dread of being alone, the acquisition of two, to the number of inhabitants in London, was something. Even Lady Middleton took the trouble of being delighted, which was putting herself rather out of her way; and as for the Miss Steeles, especially Lucy, they had never been so happy in their lives as this intelligence made them.

Elinor submitted to the arrangement which counteracted her wishes with less reluctance than she had expected to feel. With regard to herself, it was now a matter of unconcern whether she went to town or not, and when she saw her mother so thoroughly pleased with the plan, and her sister exhilarated by it in look, voice, and manner, restored to all her usual animation, and elevated to more than her usual gaiety, she could not be dissatisfied with the cause, and would hardly allow herself to distrust the consequence.

Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness, so great was the perturbation of her spirits and her impatience to be gone. Her unwillingness to quit her mother was her only restorative to calmness; and at the moment of parting her grief on that score was excessive. Her mother's affliction was hardly less, and Elinor was the only one of the three, who seemed to consider the separation as any thing short of eternal.

Their departure took place in the first week in January. The Middletons were to follow in about a week. The Miss Steeles kept their station at the park, and were to quit it only with the rest of the family.



　　虽然詹宁斯太太有个习惯，一年中有大量时间住在女儿、朋友家里，但她并非没有自己的固定寓所。她丈夫原来在城里一个不大雅洁的街区做买卖，生意倒也不错。自他去世以后，她每逢冬天一直住在波特曼广场附近的一条街上的一幢房子里。眼看一月行将来临，她不禁又想起了这个家。一天，出乎达什伍德家两位小姐意料之外，她突然邀请她们陪她一起回家去。听到这个邀请，玛丽安的脸色起了变化，那副活灵活现的神气表明她对这个主意并非无动于衷。埃丽诺没有注意到妹妹的表情变化，便即刻代表两人断然谢绝了。她满以为，她说出了她们两人的共同心愿。她提出的理由是，她们决不能在那个时候离开自己的母亲。詹宁斯太太受到拒绝后不禁吃了一惊，当即把刚才的邀请重复说了一遍。
　　“哦，天哪！你们的母亲肯定会让你们去的，我恳请你们陪我一趟，我可是打定了主意。别以为你们会给我带来什么不便，因为我不会为你们而给自己增添任何麻烦。我只需要打发贝蒂乘公共马车先回去，我想这点钱我还是出得起的。这样我们三个人就可以舒舒服服地乘着我的马车走。到了城里以后，你们如果不愿随我去什么地方，那也好，你们可以随时跟着我哪个女儿一起出去。你们的母亲肯定不会反对。我非常幸运地把我的女儿都打发出去了，她知道由我来关照你们是再合适不过了。我若是到头来没有至少让你们其中一位嫁得个如意郎君，那可不是我的过错。我要向所有的年轻小伙子美言你们几句，你们尽管放心好啦。”
　　“我认为，”约翰爵士说，“玛丽安小姐不会反对这样—个计划，假使她姐姐愿意参加的话。她若是因为达什伍德小姐不愿意而享受不到一点乐趣，那可真够叫人难受的。所以，你们如果在巴顿呆厌了，我劝你们俩动身到城里去，一句话也别对达什伍德小姐说。”
　　“唔，当然，”詹宁斯太太嚷道，“不管达什伍德小姐愿不愿去，我都将非常高兴能有玛丽安小姐作伴。我只是说，人越多越热闹，而且我觉得，她们俩在一起会更愉快一些，因为她们．—旦讨厌我了，可以一起说说话，在我背后嘲笑一下我的怪癖。不过，要是两人不可兼得，我总得有一个作伴的。我的天哪！你们想想看，直到今年冬天，我一直都是让夏洛特陪伴着，现在怎么能—个人闷在家里。得啦，玛丽安小姐，咱们拍板成交吧。若是达什伍德小姐能马上改变主意，那就更好啦。”“我感谢你，太太，真心诚意地感谢你，”玛丽安激动地说道，“我永远感谢你的邀请，若是能接受的话，它会给我带来莫大的幸福＿＿几乎是我能够享受到的最大幸福。可是我母亲，我那最亲切、最慈祥的母亲——我觉得埃丽诺说得有理，万一我们不在，她给搞得不高兴，不愉快＿＿噢！我说什么也不能离开她。这件事不应该勉强，也千万不能勉强。”
　　詹宁斯太太再次担保说：达什伍德太太完全放得开她俩，埃丽诺现在明白了妹妹的心思，她一心急于同威洛比重新团聚，别的一切几乎都不顾了，于是她不再直接反对这项计划，只说由她母亲去决定。可是她也知道，尽管她不同意玛丽安去城里作客，尽管她自己有特殊理由避而不去，但是她若出面阻拦，却很难得到母亲的支持。玛丽安无论想干什么事，她母亲都会热切地加以成全——她并不指望能说服母亲谨慎从事，因为就在那件事情上，不管她怎么说，母亲仍然相信玛丽安和威洛比已经订婚。再说，她也不敢为她自己不愿去伦敦的动机作辩解。玛丽安虽然过分挑剔，而且她也完全了解詹宁斯太太的那副德行，总是觉得十分讨厌，却要不顾这—切不便，不顾这会给她那脆弱的情感带来多么巨大的痛苦，而硬要去追求一个目标，这就雄辩地充分地证明：这个目标对她何等重要。埃丽诺虽然目睹了这一切，但对她妹妹把这件事看得如此重要，却丝毫没有思想准备。
　　达什伍德太太一听说这次邀请，便认为两个女儿出去走走也好，可以给她们带来很大乐趣。她看到玛丽安对自己如此温存体贴，又觉得她还是—心想去的，于是她绝不同意她们因为她而拒绝这次邀请，非要她俩立即接受邀请不可。接着，她又显出往常的快活神气，开始预测她们大家可以从这次离别中获得的种种好处。
　　“我很喜欢这个计划，”她大声嚷道，“正合我的心意。玛格丽特和我将同你们一样，从中得到好处。你们和米德尔顿夫妇走后，我们可以安安静静、快快乐乐地读读书，唱唱歌，你们回来的时候，会发现玛格丽特大有长进！我还有个小小的计划，想把你们的卧室改修一下，现在可以动工了，不会给任何人带来不便。你们确实应该到城里走走。像你们这种家境的年轻女子都应该了解一下伦敦的生活方式和娱乐活动。你们将受到一个慈母般的好心太太的关照，我毫不怀疑她对你们是一片好意。而且，你们十有八九会看见你们的哥哥，不管他有些什么过错，不管他妻子有些什么过错，我一想到他毕竟是你们父亲的儿子，也就不忍心看着你们完全疏远下去。”
　　“虽然你总是渴望我们快乐，”埃丽诺说，“想到目前这个计划还有一些弊病，便一直在想方设法加以克服，但是还有一个弊病，我以为是无法轻易克服的。”
　　玛丽安脸色一沉。
　　“我那亲爱的深谋远虑的埃丽诺，”达什伍德太太说，“又要发表什么高见呀？又要提出什么令人可怕的弊病啊？可别告诉我这要破费多少钱。”
　　“我说的弊病是这样的：“虽然我很佩服詹宁森太太的好心肠，可是她这个人嘛，我们和她交往不会觉得很愉快，她的保护不会抬高我们的身价。”
　　“那倒确实如此，”她母亲回答说。“不过，你们不大会脱离众人而单独和她在一起，你们总是可以和米德尔顿夫人一起抛头露面嘛。”
　　“如果埃丽诺因为讨厌詹宁斯太太而不敢去，”玛丽安说，“那起码不必妨碍我接受她的邀请。我没有这么多顾虑，我相信，我可以毫不犯难地忍受这种种不愉快。”
　　埃丽诺见玛丽安对詹宁斯太太的习惯举止表示满不在乎，情不自禁地笑了，因为她以前往往很难说服她对老太太讲点礼貌。她心里打定主意，若是妹妹坚持要去，她也要一同前往，因为她觉得不应该由着玛丽安去自行其是，不应该使想在家里舒适度日的詹宁斯太太还要听任玛丽安随意摆布。这个决心倒是比较好下，因为她记起了露西讲的话：爱德华．费拉斯在二月份以前不会进城，而她们的访问即使不无故缩短，也可以在此之前进行完毕。
　　“我要你们两个都去，”达什伍德太太说，“这些所谓弊病完全是无稽之谈。你们到了伦敦，特别又是一起去，会感到非常偷快的。如果埃丽诺愿意迁就，期待得到快乐的话，她在那里可以从多方面享受到。也许她可以通过增进同嫂嫂家的相互了解，而得到一些快乐。”
　　埃丽诺经常想找个机会，给母亲泼泼冷水，不要叫她以为女儿和爱德华还一往情深，以便将来真相大白时，她可以少震惊一些。埃丽诺泼冷水虽说很难收到成效，但她还是硬着头皮开始了，只听她泰然自若地说道：“我很喜欢爱德华．费拉斯，总是很乐意见到他。但是，至于他家里的其他人是否认识我，我却毫不在乎。”
　　达什伍德太太笑了笑，没有作声。玛丽安惊愕地抬起眼来，埃，丽诺在想，她还是不开口为好。
　　母女们也没怎么再议论，便最后决定，完全接受詹宁斯太太的邀请。詹宁斯太太获悉后大为高兴，一再保证要好好关照，其实，感到高兴的何止她一个人，，约翰爵士也喜形于色，因为对于一个最怕孤单的人来说，能给伦敦的居民增添两个名额也颇为了不起。就连米德尔顿夫入也一反常态，尽力装出高高兴兴的样子。至于两位斯蒂尔小姐，特别是露西，一听说这个消息，生平从来没有这么高兴过。
　　埃丽诺违心地接受了这项安排，心里倒也不像原来想象的那样勉强。对于她自己来说，她去不去城里是无所谓的。当她看见母亲对这个计划极其满意，妹妹从神情到语气、到仪态都显得十分兴奋时，她也恢复了平常的快活劲头，而且变得比平常更加快活。她无法对事情的缘由表示不满，也几乎很难对事情的结果加以怀疑。
　　玛丽安欣喜若狂，只觉得心荡神迷，急不可待。她不愿离开母亲，这是她唯一的镇静剂。由于这个原因，她在分别之际感到极为悲伤。她母亲同样感到十分哀伤。母女三人中，似乎只有埃丽诺不认为这是永久的诀别。
　　她们是在一月份的第一周启程的。米德尔顿夫妇大约在一周后出发。两位斯蒂尔小姐暂且留在巴顿庄园，以后和府第里的其他人一起离开。 　
  
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Chapter Twenty-six

Elinor could not find herself in the carriage with Mrs. Jennings, and beginning a journey to London under her protection, and as her guest, without wondering at her own situation, so short had their acquaintance with that lady been, so wholly unsuited were they in age and disposition, and so many had been her objections against such a measure only a few days before! But these objections had all, with that happy ardour of youth which Marianne and her mother equally shared, been overcome or overlooked; and Elinor, in spite of every occasional doubt of Willoughby's constancy, could not witness the rapture of delightful expectation which filled the whole soul and beamed in the eyes of Marianne, without feeling how blank was her own prospect, how cheerless her own state of mind in the comparison, and how gladly she would engage in the solicitude of Marianne's situation to have the same animating object in view, the same possibility of hope. A short, a very short time however must now decide what Willoughby's intentions were; in all probability he was already in town. Marianne's eagerness to be gone declared her dependence on finding him there; and Elinor was resolved not only upon gaining every new light as to his character which her own observation or the intelligence of others could give her, but likewise upon watching his behaviour to her sister with such zealous attention, as to ascertain what he was and what he meant, before many meetings had taken place. Should the result of her observations be unfavourable, she was determined at all events to open the eyes of her sister; should it be otherwise, her exertions would be of a different nature—she must then learn to avoid every selfish comparison, and banish every regret which might lessen her satisfaction in the happiness of Marianne.

They were three days on their journey, and Marianne's behaviour as they travelled was a happy specimen of what future complaisance and companionableness to Mrs. Jennings might be expected to be. She sat in silence almost all the way, wrapt in her own meditations, and scarcely ever voluntarily speaking, except when any object of picturesque beauty within their view drew from her an exclamation of delight exclusively addressed to her sister. To atone for this conduct therefore, Elinor took immediate possession of the post of civility which she had assigned herself, behaved with the greatest attention to Mrs. Jennings, talked with her, laughed with her, and listened to her whenever she could; and Mrs. Jennings on her side treated them both with all possible kindness, was solicitous on every occasion for their ease and enjoyment, and only disturbed that she could not make them choose their own dinners at the inn, nor extort a confession of their preferring salmon to cod, or boiled fowls to veal cutlets. They reached town by three o'clock the third day, glad to be released, after such a journey, from the confinement of a carriage, and ready to enjoy all the luxury of a good fire.

The house was handsome, and handsomely fitted up, and the young ladies were immediately put in possession of a very comfortable apartment. It had formerly been Charlotte's, and over the mantelpiece still hung a landscape in coloured silks of her performance, in proof of her having spent seven years at a great school in town to some effect.

As dinner was not to be ready in less than two hours from their arrival, Elinor determined to employ the interval in writing to her mother, and sat down for that purpose. In a few moments Marianne did the same. "I am writing home, Marianne," said Elinor; "had not you better defer your letter for a day or two?"

"I am NOT going to write to my mother," replied Marianne, hastily, and as if wishing to avoid any farther inquiry. Elinor said no more; it immediately struck her that she must then be writing to Willoughby; and the conclusion which as instantly followed was, that, however mysteriously they might wish to conduct the affair, they must be engaged. This conviction, though not entirely satisfactory, gave her pleasure, and she continued her letter with greater alacrity. Marianne's was finished in a very few minutes; in length it could be no more than a note; it was then folded up, sealed, and directed with eager rapidity. Elinor thought she could distinguish a large W in the direction; and no sooner was it complete than Marianne, ringing the bell, requested the footman who answered it to get that letter conveyed for her to the two-penny post. This decided the matter at once.

Her spirits still continued very high; but there was a flutter in them which prevented their giving much pleasure to her sister, and this agitation increased as the evening drew on. She could scarcely eat any dinner, and when they afterwards returned to the drawing room, seemed anxiously listening to the sound of every carriage.

It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs. Jennings, by being much engaged in her own room, could see little of what was passing. The tea things were brought in, and already had Marianne been disappointed more than once by a rap at a neighbouring door, when a loud one was suddenly heard which could not be mistaken for one at any other house, Elinor felt secure of its announcing Willoughby's approach, and Marianne, starting up, moved towards the door. Every thing was silent; this could not be borne many seconds; she opened the door, advanced a few steps towards the stairs, and after listening half a minute, returned into the room in all the agitation which a conviction of having heard him would naturally produce; in the ecstasy of her feelings at that instant she could not help exclaiming, "Oh, Elinor, it is Willoughby, indeed it is!" and seemed almost ready to throw herself into his arms, when Colonel Brandon appeared.

It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness, and she immediately left the room. Elinor was disappointed too; but at the same time her regard for Colonel Brandon ensured his welcome with her; and she felt particularly hurt that a man so partial to her sister should perceive that she experienced nothing but grief and disappointment in seeing him. She instantly saw that it was not unnoticed by him, that he even observed Marianne as she quitted the room, with such astonishment and concern, as hardly left him the recollection of what civility demanded towards herself.

"Is your sister ill?" said he.

Elinor answered in some distress that she was, and then talked of head-aches, low spirits, and over fatigues; and of every thing to which she could decently attribute her sister's behaviour.

He heard her with the most earnest attention, but seeming to recollect himself, said no more on the subject, and began directly to speak of his pleasure at seeing them in London, making the usual inquiries about their journey, and the friends they had left behind.

In this calm kind of way, with very little interest on either side, they continued to talk, both of them out of spirits, and the thoughts of both engaged elsewhere. Elinor wished very much to ask whether Willoughby were then in town, but she was afraid of giving him pain by any enquiry after his rival; and at length, by way of saying something, she asked if he had been in London ever since she had seen him last. "Yes," he replied, with some embarrassment, "almost ever since; I have been once or twice at Delaford for a few days, but it has never been in my power to return to Barton."

This, and the manner in which it was said, immediately brought back to her remembrance all the circumstances of his quitting that place, with the uneasiness and suspicions they had caused to Mrs. Jennings, and she was fearful that her question had implied much more curiosity on the subject than she had ever felt.

Mrs. Jennings soon came in. "Oh! Colonel," said she, with her usual noisy cheerfulness, "I am monstrous glad to see you—sorry I could not come before—beg your pardon, but I have been forced to look about me a little, and settle my matters; for it is a long while since I have been at home, and you know one has always a world of little odd things to do after one has been away for any time; and then I have had Cartwright to settle with— Lord, I have been as busy as a bee ever since dinner! But pray, Colonel, how came you to conjure out that I should be in town today?"

"I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr. Palmer's, where I have been dining."

"Oh, you did; well, and how do they all do at their house? How does Charlotte do? I warrant you she is a fine size by this time."

"Mrs. Palmer appeared quite well, and I am commissioned to tell you, that you will certainly see her to-morrow."

"Ay, to be sure, I thought as much. Well, Colonel, I have brought two young ladies with me, you see—that is, you see but one of them now, but there is another somewhere. Your friend, Miss Marianne, too—which you will not be sorry to hear. I do not know what you and Mr. Willoughby will do between you about her. Ay, it is a fine thing to be young and handsome. Well! I was young once, but I never was very handsome—worse luck for me. However, I got a very good husband, and I don't know what the greatest beauty can do more. Ah! poor man! he has been dead these eight years and better. But Colonel, where have you been to since we parted? And how does your business go on? Come, come, let's have no secrets among friends."

He replied with his accustomary mildness to all her inquiries, but without satisfying her in any. Elinor now began to make the tea, and Marianne was obliged to appear again.

After her entrance, Colonel Brandon became more thoughtful and silent than he had been before, and Mrs. Jennings could not prevail on him to stay long. No other visitor appeared that evening, and the ladies were unanimous in agreeing to go early to bed.

Marianne rose the next morning with recovered spirits and happy looks. The disappointment of the evening before seemed forgotten in the expectation of what was to happen that day. They had not long finished their breakfast before Mrs. Palmer's barouche stopped at the door, and in a few minutes she came laughing into the room: so delighted to see them all, that it was hard to say whether she received most pleasure from meeting her mother or the Miss Dashwoods again. So surprised at their coming to town, though it was what she had rather expected all along; so angry at their accepting her mother's invitation after having declined her own, though at the same time she would never have forgiven them if they had not come!

"Mr. Palmer will be so happy to see you," said she; "What do you think he said when he heard of your coming with Mamma? I forget what it was now, but it was something so droll!"

After an hour or two spent in what her mother called comfortable chat, or in other words, in every variety of inquiry concerning all their acquaintance on Mrs. Jennings's side, and in laughter without cause on Mrs. Palmer's, it was proposed by the latter that they should all accompany her to some shops where she had business that morning, to which Mrs. Jennings and Elinor readily consented, as having likewise some purchases to make themselves; and Marianne, though declining it at first was induced to go likewise.

Wherever they went, she was evidently always on the watch. In Bond Street especially, where much of their business lay, her eyes were in constant inquiry; and in whatever shop the party were engaged, her mind was equally abstracted from every thing actually before them, from all that interested and occupied the others. Restless and dissatisfied every where, her sister could never obtain her opinion of any article of purchase, however it might equally concern them both: she received no pleasure from anything; was only impatient to be at home again, and could with difficulty govern her vexation at the tediousness of Mrs. Palmer, whose eye was caught by every thing pretty, expensive, or new; who was wild to buy all, could determine on none, and dawdled away her time in rapture and indecision.

It was late in the morning before they returned home; and no sooner had they entered the house than Marianne flew eagerly up stairs, and when Elinor followed, she found her turning from the table with a sorrowful countenance, which declared that no Willoughby had been there.

"Has no letter been left here for me since we went out?" said she to the footman who then entered with the parcels. She was answered in the negative. "Are you quite sure of it?" she replied. "Are you certain that no servant, no porter has left any letter or note?"

The man replied that none had.

"How very odd!" said she, in a low and disappointed voice, as she turned away to the window.

"How odd, indeed!" repeated Elinor within herself, regarding her sister with uneasiness. "If she had not known him to be in town she would not have written to him, as she did; she would have written to Combe Magna; and if he is in town, how odd that he should neither come nor write! Oh! my dear mother, you must be wrong in permitting an engagement between a daughter so young, a man so little known, to be carried on in so doubtful, so mysterious a manner! I long to inquire; and how will MY interference be borne."

She determined, after some consideration, that if appearances continued many days longer as unpleasant as they now were, she would represent in the strongest manner to her mother the necessity of some serious enquiry into the affair.

Mrs. Palmer and two elderly ladies of Mrs. Jennings's intimate acquaintance, whom she had met and invited in the morning, dined with them. The former left them soon after tea to fulfill her evening engagements; and Elinor was obliged to assist in making a whist table for the others. Marianne was of no use on these occasions, as she would never learn the game; but though her time was therefore at her own disposal, the evening was by no means more productive of pleasure to her than to Elinor, for it was spent in all the anxiety of expectation and the pain of disappointment. She sometimes endeavoured for a few minutes to read; but the book was soon thrown aside, and she returned to the more interesting employment of walking backwards and forwards across the room, pausing for a moment whenever she came to the window, in hopes of distinguishing the long-expected rap.



　　埃丽诺姐妹与詹宁斯太太才认识这么几天，同她在年龄和性情上如此不相称，而且就在几天以前埃丽诺还对这一安排提出了种种异议，但现在她却和她同坐在一辆马车里，在她的保护下，作为她的客人，开始了去伦敦的旅程，这叫她怎么能对自己的处境不感到疑惑不解呢！由于玛丽安和母亲都同样富有青年人的兴致和热情，埃丽诺的异议不是被驳倒，就是被置若罔闻。尽管埃丽诺有时怀疑威洛比是否会忠贞不渝，但当她看到玛丽安的整个心灵都充满着一股欣喜若狂的期待感，两眼闪烁着期待的光芒，不由觉得自已的前景多么渺茫，自己的心情多么忧郁。她多么愿意沉浸于玛丽安那样的渴望之中，胸怀着同样激动人心的目标，怀抱着同样可能实现的希望。不过，威洛比究竟有什么意图，马上就会见分晓：他十有八九己经呆在城里。玛丽安如此急着出发就表明，她相信威洛比就在城里。埃丽诺打定主意，不仅要根据自己的观察和别人的介绍，用新眼光来看待威洛比的人格，而且还要留神注视他对她妹妹的态度，以便不用多次见面，就能弄清他是何许人，用心何在。如果她观察的结果不妙，她无论如何也要帮助妹妹擦亮眼睛；假使结果并非如此，她将作出另外一种性质的努力＿＿她要学会避免进行任何自私自利的对比，消除一切懊恼，以便能对玛丽安的幸福尽情感到满意。
　　她们在路上走了三天。玛丽安在旅途上的表现，可能是她将来讨好、接近詹宁斯太太的一个绝妙前奏。她几乎一路上都沉默不语，总是沉浸在冥思遐想之中。她很少主动启齿，即使看见绮丽的景色，也只是向姐姐惊喜地赞叹两声。因此，为了弥补妹妹行动上的不足，埃丽诺按照原先的设想，立即承担起讲究礼貌的任务。她对詹宁斯太太一心一意，同她有说有笑，尽量听她说话。而詹宁斯太太待她们也极为友好，时时刻刻把她俩的舒适快乐挂在心上。唯一使她感到惴惴不安的是，她在旅店无法让她们自己选择饭菜。尽管她一再追问，她们就是不肯表明是不是喜欢鲑鱼，不喜欢鳕鱼，是不是喜欢烧禽，不喜欢小牛肉片。第三天三点钟，她们来到城里。奔波了一路，终于高高兴兴地从马车的禁锢中解放出来，大家都准备在熊熊的炉火旁好好地享受一番。
　　詹宁斯太太的住宅非常美观，布置得十分讲究，两位小姐立即住进了一套十分舒适的房间。这套房间原来是夏洛特的，壁炉架上方还挂着她亲手制作的一幅彩绸风景画，以资证明她在城里一所了不起的学校里上过七年学，而且还颇有几分成绩。
　　因为晚饭在两个小时之内还做不好，埃丽诺决定利用这个空隙给母亲写封信，于是便坐下动起笔来。过了一阵，玛丽安也跟着写了起来。“我在给家里写信，玛丽安，”埃丽诺说，“你是不是晚一两天再写？”
　　“我不是给母亲写信，”玛丽安急忙答道，好像要避开她的进一步追问似的。埃丽诺没有作声。她顿时意识到，妹妹准是在给威洛比写信。她随即得出这样的结论：不管他们俩想把事情搞得多么神秘，他们肯定是订了婚。这个结论虽然并非令人完全信服，但是使她感到高兴，于是她更加欢快迅捷地继续写信。玛丽安的信没几分钟就写好了。从长度上看，那只不过是封短柬。接着，她急急忙忙地叠起来、封好，写上收信人的姓名地址。埃丽诺想，从那姓名地址上，她准能辨出一个诺大的“威”字。信刚完成，玛丽安就连忙拉铃，等男仆闻声赶来，就请他替她把信送到两便士邮局。顿时，这事便确定无疑了。
　　玛丽安的情绪依然十分高涨，但是她还有点心神不定，这就无法使她姐姐感到十分高兴。随着夜幕的降临，玛丽安越来越心神不定。她晚饭几乎什么东西也吃不下。饭后回到客厅，她似乎在焦灼不安地倾听着每一辆马车的声音，
　　使埃丽诺感到大为欣慰的是，詹宁斯太太正在自己房里，忙得不可开交，看不到这些情景。茶具端进来了，隔壁人家的敲门声已经使玛丽安失望了不止一次。募地，又听到一阵响亮的叩门声，这次可不会被错当成是敲别人家的门了。埃丽诺想，准是传报威洛比到了。玛丽安倏地立起身，朝门口走去。房里静悄悄的，她实在忍不住了，赶紧打开门，朝楼梯口走了几步，听了半分钟，又回到房里，那个激动不安的样子，定是确信听见威洛比脚步声的自然反应。当时，她在欣喜若狂之中，情不自禁地大声嚷道：“哦，埃丽诺，是威洛比，真是他！”她似乎刚要向他怀里扑去，不料进来的却是布兰登上校。
　　这场震惊非同小可，搞得玛丽安失魂落魄，当即走出了房间。埃丽诺也很失望，但因一向敬重布兰登上校，还是欢迎他的到来。使她感到特别痛苦的是，如此厚爱她妹妹的一个人，竟然发觉她妹妹一见到他，感到的只是悲伤和失望。她当即发现，上校并非没有察觉，他甚至眼睁睁地瞅着玛丽安走出了房间，惊讶焦虑之余，连对埃丽诺的必要客套都顾不得了。
　　“你妹妹是不是不舒服？”他说。
　　埃丽诺有些为难地回答说，她是不舒服。接着，她提到了她的头痛、情绪低沉、过度疲劳，以及可以体面地为妹妹的举动开脱的种种托词。
　　上校全神贯注地听她说着，似乎恢复了镇静，在这个话题上没再说什么，便马上说起他能在伦敦见到她们感到非常高兴，客套地问起了她们一路上的情况，问起了留在家里的朋友们的情况。
　　他们就这样平静地、乏味地交谈着，两人都郁郁不乐，都在想着别的心事，埃丽诺真想问问威洛比在不在城里，但她又怕打听他的情敌会引起他的痛苦。最后，为了没话找话说，她问他自从上次见面以来，是不是一直呆在伦敦。“是的，”上校有些尴尬地回答说．“差不多一直呆在伦敦。有那么几天，到德拉福去过一两次，但是一直回不了巴顿。”
　　他这句话，以及他说这句话的那副神态，顿时使埃丽诺想起了他当初离开巴顿时的情景，想起了这些情景给詹宁斯太太带来的不安和怀疑。埃丽诺有点担心：她的提问会让人觉得她对这个问题很好奇，实际上她并没有那么好奇。
　　不久，詹宁斯太太进来了。“哦，上校！”她像往常一样兴高采烈地大声嚷道。“我见到你高兴极啦——对不起，我不能早来一步——请你原谅，我不得不到各处看看，料理料理一些事情。我离家好些日子啦，你知道，人一离开家，不管离开多长时间，回来后总有一大堆杂七杂八的事情要办。随后还要同卡特赖特清帐。天哪，我晚饭后一直忙碌得像只蜜蜂！不过，请问上校，你怎么猜到我今天回城了？”
　　“我是有幸在帕尔默先生家听说的，我在他家吃晚饭。”
　　“哦！是这么回事。那么，他们一家人都好吗？夏洛特好吗？我敢担保，她现在一定腰圆体胖了。”
　　“帕尔默夫人看上去挺好，她托我告诉你，她明天一定来看望你。”
　　“啊，没有问题，我早就料到了。你瞧，上校，我带来了两位年轻小姐——这就是说，你现在见到的只是其中的一位，还有一位不在这里。那就是你的朋友玛丽安小姐——你听到这话不会感到遗憾吧。我不知道你和威洛比先生准备怎么处理她。啊，人长得年轻漂亮是桩好事儿。唉，我曾经年轻过，但是从来没有很漂亮过——我的运气真糟。不过，我有个非常好的丈夫，我真不知道天字第一号的美人能比我好到哪里。啊，可怜的人儿！他已经去世八年多啦。不过，上校，你和我们分手后到哪里去啦？你的事情办得怎么样啦？得了，得了，咱们朋友间不要保什么密啦。”，
　　上校以他惯有的委婉口气，一一回答了她的询问，可是没有一个回答叫她感到满意。埃丽诺开始动手泡茶，玛丽安迫不得己又回来了。
　　见她一进屋，布兰登上校变得比先前更加沉思不语，詹宁斯太太想劝他多呆—会儿，但无济于事。当晚没来别的客人，太太小姐们致同意早点就寝。
　　玛丽安翌日早晨起床后，恢复了往常的精神状态，神色欢快。看样子，她对当天满怀希望，因而忘记了头天晚上令人扫兴的事情。大家吃完早饭不久，就听到帕尔默夫人的四轮马车停在门前。过不几分钟，只见她笑哈哈地走进房来。她见到大伙儿高兴极了，而且你很难说她见到谁最高兴，是她母亲，还是两位达什伍德小姐。达什伍德家的两位小姐来到城里，这虽说是她的一贯期望，却实在使她感到大为惊讶。而她们居然在拒绝她的邀请之后接受了她母亲的邀请，这又真叫她感到气愤，虽然她们倘若索性不来的话，她更是永远不会览恕她们！帕尔默先生将非常高兴看到你们，”她说。“他听说你们二位和我母亲一起来到时，你们知道他说了什么话吗？我现在记不清了，不过那话说得真幽默呀！”
　　大伙儿在一起谈论了一两个钟头，用她母亲的话说，这叫做快乐的聊天，换句话说一方面是詹宁斯太太对各位的相识提出种种询问．一方面是帕尔默夫人无缘无故地笑个不停。谈笑过后，帕尔默夫人提议，她们大伙儿当天上午—起陪她去商店办点事儿。詹宁斯太太和埃丽诺欣然同意，因为她们自己也要去采购点东西。玛丽安虽然起初拒不肯去，后来还是被说服一起去了。
　　无论她们走到哪里，她显然总是十分留神。特别是到了众人要进行大量采购的邦德街，她的眼睛无时无刻不在东张西望，大伙儿不管走到哪个商店，她对眼前的一切东西，对别人关心、忙活的一切事情，一概心不在焉，她走到哪里都显得心神不安，不能满意，姐姐买东西时征求她的意见，尽管这可能是她俩都要买的物品，她也不予理睬。她对什么都不感兴趣，就是巴不得马上回去。她看到帕尔默夫人，唠唠叨叨，没完没了，简直压抑不住内心的懊恼。那位夫人的目光总是被那些漂亮、昂贵、时髦的物品吸引住，她恨不得样样都买．可是一样也下不了决心，整个时间就在如醉如痴和犹豫不决中虚度过去，
　　临近中午的时候．她们回到家里。刚一进门，玛丽安便急切地飞身上搂。埃丽诺跟在后面追上去，发现她满脸沮丧地从桌前往回走，说明威洛比没有来，
　　“我们出去以后，没有人给我来信吗？”她对恰在这时进来送邮包的男仆说道。她得到的回答是没有。“你十分肯定吗？”她问道。“你敢肯定佣人、脚夫都没进来送过信或是便条？”
　　男仆回答说，谁也没来送信。
　　“好怪呀！，玛丽安带着低沉、失望的语气说道，一面扭身向窗口走去。
　　“真怪呀！”埃丽诺自言自语地重复道，局促不安地打量着妹妹。“假使她不知道他在城里，她决不会给他写信，而只会往库姆大厦写信。他要是在城里，却既不来人又不写信，岂非咄咄怪事！呕，亲爱的母亲，你真不该允许这么年轻的—个女儿跟这么毫不了解的一个男人订婚，而且搞得这么捉摸不定，神秘莫测，我倒真想追问追问，可是人家怎么能容忍我多管闲事呢？”
　　她经过考虑后决定，如果情况再这么今人不愉快地持续许多日，她就要以最强烈的措辞写信禀告母亲，要她认真追问这件事。
　　帕尔默夫人，还有詹宁斯太太上午遇见时邀请的两位关系密切的上了年纪的太太，同她脽筒进晚餐。帕尔默夫人茶后不久便起身告辞，去履行晚上的约会。埃丽诺好心好意地帮助大伙摆惠斯特牌桌。在这种情况下，玛丽安帮不上手，因为她说什么也不肯学打牌。不过，虽说她因此可以自由支配自己的时间，但她整个晚上决不比埃丽诺过得更快活，因为她一直在忍受着期待的焦虑和失望的痛苦。她有时硬着头皮读几分钟书，但是很快又把书抛开，比较有趣的，还是重新在室内踱来踱去，每当走到窗口总要停一阵，希望能听到期盼已久的敲门声。 　
  
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Chapter Twenty-seven

"If this open weather holds much longer," said Mrs. Jennings, when they met at breakfast the following morning, "Sir John will not like leaving Barton next week; 'tis a sad thing for sportsmen to lose a day's pleasure. Poor souls! I always pity them when they do; they seem to take it so much to heart."

"That is true," cried Marianne, in a cheerful voice, and walking to the window as she spoke, to examine the day. "I had not thought of that. This weather will keep many sportsmen in the country."

It was a lucky recollection, all her good spirits were restored by it. "It is charming weather for THEM indeed," she continued, as she sat down to the breakfast table with a happy countenance. "How much they must enjoy it! But" (with a little return of anxiety) "it cannot be expected to last long. At this time of the year, and after such a series of rain, we shall certainly have very little more of it. Frosts will soon set in, and in all probability with severity. In another day or two perhaps; this extreme mildness can hardly last longer—nay, perhaps it may freeze tonight!"

"At any rate," said Elinor, wishing to prevent Mrs. Jennings from seeing her sister's thoughts as clearly as she did, "I dare say we shall have Sir John and Lady Middleton in town by the end of next week."

"Ay, my dear, I'll warrant you we do. Mary always has her own way."

"And now," silently conjectured Elinor, "she will write to Combe by this day's post."

But if she DID, the letter was written and sent away with a privacy which eluded all her watchfulness to ascertain the fact. Whatever the truth of it might be, and far as Elinor was from feeling thorough contentment about it, yet while she saw Marianne in spirits, she could not be very uncomfortable herself. And Marianne was in spirits; happy in the mildness of the weather, and still happier in her expectation of a frost.

The morning was chiefly spent in leaving cards at the houses of Mrs. Jennings's acquaintance to inform them of her being in town; and Marianne was all the time busy in observing the direction of the wind, watching the variations of the sky and imagining an alteration in the air.

"Don't you find it colder than it was in the morning, Elinor? There seems to me a very decided difference. I can hardly keep my hands warm even in my muff. It was not so yesterday, I think. The clouds seem parting too, the sun will be out in a moment, and we shall have a clear afternoon."

Elinor was alternately diverted and pained; but Marianne persevered, and saw every night in the brightness of the fire, and every morning in the appearance of the atmosphere, the certain symptoms of approaching frost.

The Miss Dashwoods had no greater reason to be dissatisfied with Mrs. Jennings's style of living, and set of acquaintance, than with her behaviour to themselves, which was invariably kind. Every thing in her household arrangements was conducted on the most liberal plan, and excepting a few old city friends, whom, to Lady Middleton's regret, she had never dropped, she visited no one to whom an introduction could at all discompose the feelings of her young companions. Pleased to find herself more comfortably situated in that particular than she had expected, Elinor was very willing to compound for the want of much real enjoyment from any of their evening parties, which, whether at home or abroad, formed only for cards, could have little to amuse her.

Colonel Brandon, who had a general invitation to the house, was with them almost every day; he came to look at Marianne and talk to Elinor, who often derived more satisfaction from conversing with him than from any other daily occurrence, but who saw at the same time with much concern his continued regard for her sister. She feared it was a strengthening regard. It grieved her to see the earnestness with which he often watched Marianne, and his spirits were certainly worse than when at Barton.

About a week after their arrival, it became certain that Willoughby was also arrived. His card was on the table when they came in from the morning's drive.

"Good God!" cried Marianne, "he has been here while we were out." Elinor, rejoiced to be assured of his being in London, now ventured to say, "Depend upon it, he will call again tomorrow." But Marianne seemed hardly to hear her, and on Mrs. Jenning's entrance, escaped with the precious card.

This event, while it raised the spirits of Elinor, restored to those of her sister all, and more than all, their former agitation. From this moment her mind was never quiet; the expectation of seeing him every hour of the day, made her unfit for any thing. She insisted on being left behind, the next morning, when the others went out.

Elinor's thoughts were full of what might be passing in Berkeley Street during their absence; but a moment's glance at her sister when they returned was enough to inform her, that Willoughby had paid no second visit there. A note was just then brought in, and laid on the table,

"For me!" cried Marianne, stepping hastily forward.

"No, ma'am, for my mistress."

But Marianne, not convinced, took it instantly up.

"It is indeed for Mrs. Jennings; how provoking!"

"You are expecting a letter, then?" said Elinor, unable to be longer silent.

"Yes, a little—not much."

After a short pause. "You have no confidence in me, Marianne."

"Nay, Elinor, this reproach from YOU—you who have confidence in no one!"

"Me!" returned Elinor in some confusion; "indeed, Marianne, I have nothing to tell."

"Nor I," answered Marianne with energy, "our situations then are alike. We have neither of us any thing to tell; you, because you do not communicate, and I, because I conceal nothing."

Elinor, distressed by this charge of reserve in herself, which she was not at liberty to do away, knew not how, under such circumstances, to press for greater openness in Marianne.

Mrs. Jennings soon appeared, and the note being given her, she read it aloud. It was from Lady Middleton, announcing their arrival in Conduit Street the night before, and requesting the company of her mother and cousins the following evening. Business on Sir John's part, and a violent cold on her own, prevented their calling in Berkeley Street. The invitation was accepted; but when the hour of appointment drew near, necessary as it was in common civility to Mrs. Jennings, that they should both attend her on such a visit, Elinor had some difficulty in persuading her sister to go, for still she had seen nothing of Willoughby; and therefore was not more indisposed for amusement abroad, than unwilling to run the risk of his calling again in her absence.

Elinor found, when the evening was over, that disposition is not materially altered by a change of abode, for although scarcely settled in town, Sir John had contrived to collect around him, nearly twenty young people, and to amuse them with a ball. This was an affair, however, of which Lady Middleton did not approve. In the country, an unpremeditated dance was very allowable; but in London, where the reputation of elegance was more important and less easily attained, it was risking too much for the gratification of a few girls, to have it known that Lady Middleton had given a small dance of eight or nine couple, with two violins, and a mere side-board collation.

Mr. and Mrs. Palmer were of the party; from the former, whom they had not seen before since their arrival in town, as he was careful to avoid the appearance of any attention to his mother-in-law, and therefore never came near her, they received no mark of recognition on their entrance. He looked at them slightly, without seeming to know who they were, and merely nodded to Mrs. Jennings from the other side of the room. Marianne gave one glance round the apartment as she entered: it was enough—HE was not there—and she sat down, equally ill-disposed to receive or communicate pleasure. After they had been assembled about an hour, Mr. Palmer sauntered towards the Miss Dashwoods to express his surprise on seeing them in town, though Colonel Brandon had been first informed of their arrival at his house, and he had himself said something very droll on hearing that they were to come.

"I thought you were both in Devonshire," said he.

"Did you?" replied Elinor.

"When do you go back again?"

"I do not know." And thus ended their discourse.

Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance in her life, as she was that evening, and never so much fatigued by the exercise. She complained of it as they returned to Berkeley Street.

"Aye, aye," said Mrs. Jennings, "we know the reason of all that very well; if a certain person who shall be nameless, had been there, you would not have been a bit tired: and to say the truth it was not very pretty of him not to give you the meeting when he was invited."

"Invited!" cried Marianne.

"So my daughter Middleton told me, for it seems Sir John met him somewhere in the street this morning." Marianne said no more, but looked exceedingly hurt. Impatient in this situation to be doing something that might lead to her sister's relief, Elinor resolved to write the next morning to her mother, and hoped by awakening her fears for the health of Marianne, to procure those inquiries which had been so long delayed; and she was still more eagerly bent on this measure by perceiving after breakfast on the morrow, that Marianne was again writing to Willoughby, for she could not suppose it to be to any other person.

About the middle of the day, Mrs. Jennings went out by herself on business, and Elinor began her letter directly, while Marianne, too restless for employment, too anxious for conversation, walked from one window to the other, or sat down by the fire in melancholy meditation. Elinor was very earnest in her application to her mother, relating all that had passed, her suspicions of Willoughby's inconstancy, urging her by every plea of duty and affection to demand from Marianne an account of her real situation with respect to him.

Her letter was scarcely finished, when a rap foretold a visitor, and Colonel Brandon was announced. Marianne, who had seen him from the window, and who hated company of any kind, left the room before he entered it. He looked more than usually grave, and though expressing satisfaction at finding Miss Dashwood alone, as if he had somewhat in particular to tell her, sat for some time without saying a word. Elinor, persuaded that he had some communication to make in which her sister was concerned, impatiently expected its opening. It was not the first time of her feeling the same kind of conviction; for, more than once before, beginning with the observation of "your sister looks unwell to-day," or "your sister seems out of spirits," he had appeared on the point, either of disclosing, or of inquiring, something particular about her. After a pause of several minutes, their silence was broken, by his asking her in a voice of some agitation, when he was to congratulate her on the acquisition of a brother? Elinor was not prepared for such a question, and having no answer ready, was obliged to adopt the simple and common expedient, of asking what he meant? He tried to smile as he replied, "your sister's engagement to Mr. Willoughby is very generally known."

"It cannot be generally known," returned Elinor, "for her own family do not know it."

He looked surprised and said, "I beg your pardon, I am afraid my inquiry has been impertinent; but I had not supposed any secrecy intended, as they openly correspond, and their marriage is universally talked of."

"How can that be? By whom can you have heard it mentioned?"

"By many—by some of whom you know nothing, by others with whom you are most intimate, Mrs. Jennings, Mrs. Palmer, and the Middletons. But still I might not have believed it, for where the mind is perhaps rather unwilling to be convinced, it will always find something to support its doubts, if I had not, when the servant let me in today, accidentally seen a letter in his hand, directed to Mr. Willoughby in your sister's writing. I came to inquire, but I was convinced before I could ask the question. Is every thing finally settled? Is it impossible to-? But I have no right, and I could have no chance of succeeding. Excuse me, Miss Dashwood. I believe I have been wrong in saying so much, but I hardly know what to do, and on your prudence I have the strongest dependence. Tell me that it is all absolutely resolved on, that any attempt, that in short concealment, if concealment be possible, is all that remains."

These words, which conveyed to Elinor a direct avowal of his love for her sister, affected her very much. She was not immediately able to say anything, and even when her spirits were recovered, she debated for a short time, on the answer it would be most proper to give. The real state of things between Willoughby and her sister was so little known to herself, that in endeavouring to explain it, she might be as liable to say too much as too little. Yet as she was convinced that Marianne's affection for Willoughby, could leave no hope of Colonel Brandon's success, whatever the event of that affection might be, and at the same time wished to shield her conduct from censure, she thought it most prudent and kind, after some consideration, to say more than she really knew or believed. She acknowledged, therefore, that though she had never been informed by themselves of the terms on which they stood with each other, of their mutual affection she had no doubt, and of their correspondence she was not astonished to hear.

He listened to her with silent attention, and on her ceasing to speak, rose directly from his seat, and after saying in a voice of emotion, "to your sister I wish all imaginable happiness; to Willoughby that he may endeavour to deserve her,"—took leave, and went away.

Elinor derived no comfortable feelings from this conversation, to lessen the uneasiness of her mind on other points; she was left, on the contrary, with a melancholy impression of Colonel Brandon's unhappiness, and was prevented even from wishing it removed, by her anxiety for the very event that must confirm it.



　　第二天早晨，大家凑到一起吃早饭时，詹宁斯太太说道：“如果天气这么暖和下去，约翰爵士到下周也不愿离开巴顿。那些游猎家哪怕失去一天的娱乐机会，也要难受得不得了。可怜的家伙们！他们一难受我就可怜他们．——他们似乎也太认真了。”
　　“确实是这样，”玛丽安带着快活的语气说道，一边朝窗口走去，察看一下天气。“我还没想到这一点呢。遇到这样的天气，好多游猎家都要呆在乡下不走的。”
　　幸亏这一番回忆，她重新变得兴高采烈起来。“这天气对他们确实富有魅力，”她接着说道，一面带着快活的神气，在饭桌前坐好。“他们有多开心啊！不过，”（她的忧虑又有些回复）“这是不可能持久的。碰上这个时节，又一连下了好几场雨，当然不会再接着下了。霜冻马上就要开始，十有八九还很厉害，也许就在这一两天。这种极端温和的天气怕是持续不下去了——晤，说不定今天夜里就要上冻！”
　　玛丽安在想什么，埃丽诺了解得一清二楚，她不想让詹宁斯太太看透妹妹的心事，于是说道：“无论如何，到下周末，我们肯定能把约翰爵士和米德尔顿夫人迎到城里。”
　　“啊，亲爱的，我敢担保没问题。玛丽安总要别人听她的。”
　　“瞧吧，”埃丽诺心里猜想，“她要往库姆写信啦，赶在今天发走。
　　“但是，即使玛丽安真的这样做了．那也是秘密写好，秘密发走的，埃丽诺元论怎么留神观察，还是没有发现真情。无论事实真相加何，尽管埃丽诺对此远非十分满意，然而一见到玛丽安兴高采烈，她自己也不能太别别扭扭的。玛丽安确实兴高采烈，她为温和的天气感到高兴，更为霜冻即将来临感到高兴。
　　这天上午，主要用来给詹宁斯太太的熟人家里送送名片，告诉他们太太已经回城。玛丽安始终在观察风向，注视着天空的种种变异，设想着就要变天。
　　“埃丽诺，你难道不觉得天气比早晨冷吗？我似乎觉得大不一样。我甚至戴着皮手筒，都不能把手暖和过来。我想昨天并不是这样。云彩也在散开，太阳一会儿就要出来，下午准是个晴天。”
　　埃丽诺心里时喜时悲，倒是玛丽安能够始终如一，她每天晚上见到通明的炉火，每天早晨看到天象，都认定是霜冻即将来临的确凿征兆。
　　詹宁斯太太对两位达什伍德小姐总是非常和善，使她俩没有理由感到不满意。同样，她们也没有理由对太太的生活派头和那帮朋友感到不满。她安排家中大小事务总是极其宽怀大度，除了城里的几位老朋友，她从不去拜访别的人，唯恐引起她的年轻伙伴心绪不安。而使米德尔顿夫人感到遗憾的是，她母亲就是不肯舍弃那几位老朋友。埃丽诺高兴地发现，她在这方面的处境要比原先想象的好，于是她宁愿不再去计较那些实在没有意思的晚会。这些晚会不管在自己家里开，还是在别人家里开，充其量只是打打牌，对此她没有多大兴趣。
　　布兰登上校是詹宁斯家的常客，几乎每天都和她们呆在一起。他来这里，一是看看玛丽安，二是与埃丽诺说说话。埃丽诺和他交谈、往往比从其他日常事件中得到更大的满足。但她同时也十分关切地注意到，上校对她妹妹依然一片深情。她担心这种感情正在与日俱增。她伤心地发现，上校经常以情真意切的目光望着玛丽安，他的情绪显然比在巴顿时更加低沉。
　　她们进城后大约过了一周左右，方才确知威洛比也已来到城里。那天上午她们乘车出游回来，看到桌上有他的名片。天啊！”玛丽安惊叫道，“我们出去的时候他来过这里。”埃丽诺得知威洛比就在伦敦，不禁喜上心头，便放心大胆地说道：“你放心好啦，他明日还会来的，”玛丽安仿佛没听见她的话，等詹宁斯太太一进屋，便拿着那张珍贵的名片溜走了。
　　这件事一方面提高了埃丽诺的情绪，一方面恢复了她妹妹的兴致，而且使玛丽安比以前更加激动不安。自此刻起，她的心情压根儿没有平静过，她无时无刻不在期待见到他，以至于什么事情都不能干。第二天早晨，大家出去的时候，她执意要留在家里。
　　埃丽诺出来后，一门心思想着伯克利街可能出现的情况。她们回来后，她只朝妹妹瞥了一眼，便知道威洛比没来第二趟。恰在这时，仆人送来一封短柬，搁在桌子上。
　　“给我的！”玛丽安嚷道，急忙抢上前去。
　　“不，小姐，是给太太的。”
　　可玛丽安硬是不信，马上拿起信来。
　　“确实是给詹宁斯太太的，真叫人恼火！”
　　“那你是在等信啦？”埃丽诺问道，她再也沉不住气了，
　　“是的！有一点——但不完全是。”
　　略停了片刻，“玛丽安，你不信任我。”
　　“得了吧，埃丽诺，你还有脸责怪我：你对谁都不信任！”
　　“我！”埃丽诺有些窘迫地应道。“玛丽安，我的确没有什么好说的。”
　　“我也没有，”玛丽安语气强硬地回答道。“那么，我们的情况是一样啦。我们都没有什么好说的：你是因为啥也不肯说，我是因为啥也没隐瞒。”
　　埃丽诺自己被指责为不坦率，而她又无法消除这种指责，心里很烦恼。在这种情况下，她不知如何能促使玛丽安坦率一些。
　　詹宁斯太太很快回来了，一接到信便大声读了起来。信是米德尔顿夫人写来的，报告说他们已在头天晚上来到康迪特街，请她母亲和两位表姐妹明天晚上去作客。约翰爵士因为有事在身，她自己又患了重感冒，不能来伯克利街拜访。邀请被接受了，当践约时刻临近的时候，虽然出自对詹宁斯太太的通常礼貌，她们妹妹俩按说有必要陪她一同前往，不料埃丽诺费了半天唇舌才说服妹妹跟着一起去，因为她连威洛比的影子都没见到，当然不愿冒着让他再扑个空的危险，而去自寻开心。
　　到了夜里，埃丽诺发现：人的性情不因环境改变而发生很大变化，因为约翰爵士刚来到城里，就设法聚集了将近二十个年轻人，欢欢乐乐地开个舞会。然而，米德尔顿夫人并不同意他这么做。在乡下，未经过预先安排而举行舞会是完会可以的，但在伦敦，更重要、更难得的是要赚个风雅体面的好名声。如今，为了让几位小姐遂心如意，便贸然行事，让人知道米德尔顿夫人开了个小舞会，八九对舞伴，两把小提琴，只能从餐具柜里拿出点小吃。
　　帕尔默夫妇也来参加舞会。几位女士自进城以来，一直没有见到帕尔默先生，因为他总是尽量避免引起他岳母的注意，从不接近她。女士们进来时，他连点相识的表示都没有。他略微望了她们一眼，从房间另一端朝詹宁斯太太点了下头。玛丽安进门后向室内环视了一下；看这一眼就足够了，他不在场——她坐下来，既不想自寻欢乐，又不想取悦他人。相聚了大约一个钟头之后，帕尔默先生款步向两位达什伍德小姐走去，说是真想不到会在城里见到她们。其实，布兰登上校最早是在他家听说她们来到城里的，而他自己一听说她们要来，还说了几句莫名其妙的话。
　　“我还以为你们都在德文郡呢！”他说。
　　“真的吗？”埃丽诺应道。
　　“你们什么时候回去？”
　　“我也不晓得。”就这样，他们的谈话结束了。
　　玛丽安有生以来从没像当晚那样不愿跳舞，也从没跳得那样精疲力竭。一回到伯克利街，她就抱怨起来。
　　“唷哟，”詹宁斯太太说，“这原因嘛，我们是一清二楚的。假使来了那个咱们不指名道姓的人，你就一点也不累。说实在话，我们邀请他，他都不来见你一面，这未免不大像话。”
　　“邀请！”玛丽安嚷道。
　　“我女儿米德尔顿夫人这样告诉我的。今天早晨，约翰爵士似乎在街上碰见过他。”
　　玛丽安没再说什么，但看上去极为生气。埃丽诺见此情景非常焦急，便想设法解除妹妹的痛苦。她决定次日上午给母亲写封信，希望通过唤起她对玛丽安的健康的忧虑，对她进行拖延已久的询问。次日早晨吃过早饭，她发觉玛丽安又在给威洛比写信（她认为她不会给别人写信），便更加急切地要给母亲写信。大约正午时分，詹宁斯太太有事独自出去了，埃丽诺马上动手写信。此刻，玛丽安烦得无心做事，急得无意谈话，时而从一个窗口走到另一个窗口，时而坐在炉前垂头沉思。埃丽诺向母亲苦苦求告，讲述了这里发生的全部情况，说明她怀疑威洛比用情不专，恳请她务必尽到做母亲的本分和情意，要求玛丽安说明她同威洛比的真实关系。
　　她刚写好信，传来了敲门声，一听便知道有客人。随即有人传报，来客是布兰登上校。玛丽安早从窗口望见了他，因为什么客人也不想见，便在他进来之前走出房去。上校看上去比以往更加心事重重，看见只有埃丽诺一个人，虽然嘴里说很高兴，仿佛有什么要紧事要告诉她似的，但却一声不响地坐了好一阵。埃丽诺确信他有话要说，而且分明与她妹妹有关，便急切地等他开口。她有这样的感觉，已经不是第一次了。在这之前，上校曾不止一次地说过“你妹妹今天似乎不舒服”、“你妹妹似乎不很高兴”之类的话，好像他要透露或是打听她的什么特别情况。过了好几分钟，他终于打破了沉默，带着几分焦灼不安的语气问她：他什么时候能恭喜她得到个妹夫？埃丽诺没防备他会提出这么个问题，一时又找不到现成的答复，便只好采取简单常见的权宜之计，问他这是什么意思？他强作笑颜地答道：“你妹妹与威洛比订婚已是尽人皆知了。”
　　“不可能尽人皆知，”埃丽诺回答说，“因为她自己家里人还不知道。”
　　上校似乎吃了一惊，然后说：“请你原谅，我的问题怕是有点唐突无礼，不过，既然他脽瞳开通信，我没想到还会有什么秘密可言。人们都在议论他们要结婚了，”
　　“那怎么可能呢？你是听谁说起的？”
　　“许多人——有些人你根本不认识，有些人和你极其密切——詹宁斯太太、帕尔默夫人和米德尔顿夫人。不过尽管如此，要不是仆人今天引我进门时，我无意中看见她手里拿着一封给威洛比的信，是你妹妹的笔迹，我也许还不敢相信呢——因为心里不愿相信的事情，总会找到一点怀疑的依据。我本来是来问个明白的，但是还没发问就确信无疑了。难道一切都最后敲定了？难道不可能—一？可是，我没有权利、也没有可能获得成功。请原谅我，达什伍德小姐。我知道我不该说这么多，不过我简直不知道该怎么办。你办事谨慎，这我完全信得过。告诉我，事情已经百分之百地决定了，再怎么争取也——如杀可能的话，剩下的问题就是再稍稍隐瞒一段时间。”
　　在埃丽诺听来，这一席话公开表白了他对她妹妹的眷恋，因而使她大为感动。她一下子说不出话，即使心情平静之后，心里还嘀咕了一阵，到底如何回答是好。威洛比和她妹妹之间的真实关系，她自己也是一无所知，勉强解释吧，可能不是说不到点子上，就是说过头。然而她又确信，玛丽安对威洛比的钟情无论结局如何，布兰登上校可能是没有希望成功的。在这同时，她还很想保护妹妹的行动不受指责，她经过再三考虑，觉得最明智、最宽厚的做法，还是不管她是否真的了解，真的信以为真，尽量多说点。因此她承认，虽然她从未听他们自己说过他们是什么关系，但是她对他们的相互钟爱并不怀疑，对他们相互通信并不感到惊讶。
　　上校一声不响、聚精会神地听她说着。等她话音一落，他立即从椅子上立起身来，带着激动的口吻说道：“我祝愿你妹妹万事如意，祝愿威洛比极力争取配得上她。”说罢，辞别而去。
　　埃丽诺从这次谈话中并没得到宽慰，借以减轻她在别的问题上的忐忑不安。相反，布兰登上校的不幸给她留下了一种忧郁感，因为一心等着让事实来加以印证，她甚至无法希望消除这种忧郁感。 　
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Twenty-eight

Nothing occurred during the next three or four days, to make Elinor regret what she had done, in applying to her mother; for Willoughby neither came nor wrote. They were engaged about the end of that time to attend Lady Middleton to a party, from which Mrs. Jennings was kept away by the indisposition of her youngest daughter; and for this party, Marianne, wholly dispirited, careless of her appearance, and seeming equally indifferent whether she went or staid, prepared, without one look of hope or one expression of pleasure. She sat by the drawing-room fire after tea, till the moment of Lady Middleton's arrival, without once stirring from her seat, or altering her attitude, lost in her own thoughts, and insensible of her sister's presence; and when at last they were told that Lady Middleton waited for them at the door, she started as if she had forgotten that any one was expected.

They arrived in due time at the place of destination, and as soon as the string of carriages before them would allow, alighted, ascended the stairs, heard their names announced from one landing-place to another in an audible voice, and entered a room splendidly lit up, quite full of company, and insufferably hot. When they had paid their tribute of politeness by curtsying to the lady of the house, they were permitted to mingle in the crowd, and take their share of the heat and inconvenience, to which their arrival must necessarily add. After some time spent in saying little or doing less, Lady Middleton sat down to Cassino, and as Marianne was not in spirits for moving about, she and Elinor luckily succeeding to chairs, placed themselves at no great distance from the table.

They had not remained in this manner long, before Elinor perceived Willoughby, standing within a few yards of them, in earnest conversation with a very fashionable looking young woman. She soon caught his eye, and he immediately bowed, but without attempting to speak to her, or to approach Marianne, though he could not but see her; and then continued his discourse with the same lady. Elinor turned involuntarily to Marianne, to see whether it could be unobserved by her. At that moment she first perceived him, and her whole countenance glowing with sudden delight, she would have moved towards him instantly, had not her sister caught hold of her.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "he is there—he is there—Oh! why does he not look at me? why cannot I speak to him?"

"Pray, pray be composed," cried Elinor, "and do not betray what you feel to every body present. Perhaps he has not observed you yet."

This however was more than she could believe herself; and to be composed at such a moment was not only beyond the reach of Marianne, it was beyond her wish. She sat in an agony of impatience which affected every feature.

At last he turned round again, and regarded them both; she started up, and pronouncing his name in a tone of affection, held out her hand to him. He approached, and addressing himself rather to Elinor than Marianne, as if wishing to avoid her eye, and determined not to observe her attitude, inquired in a hurried manner after Mrs. Dashwood, and asked how long they had been in town. Elinor was robbed of all presence of mind by such an address, and was unable to say a word. But the feelings of her sister were instantly expressed. Her face was crimsoned over, and she exclaimed, in a voice of the greatest emotion, "Good God! Willoughby, what is the meaning of this? Have you not received my letters? Will you not shake hands with me?"

He could not then avoid it, but her touch seemed painful to him, and he held her hand only for a moment. During all this time he was evidently struggling for composure. Elinor watched his countenance and saw its expression becoming more tranquil. After a moment's pause, he spoke with calmness.

"I did myself the honour of calling in Berkeley Street last Tuesday, and very much regretted that I was not fortunate enough to find yourselves and Mrs. Jennings at home. My card was not lost, I hope."

"But have you not received my notes?" cried Marianne in the wildest anxiety. "Here is some mistake I am sure—some dreadful mistake. What can be the meaning of it? Tell me, Willoughby; for heaven's sake tell me, what is the matter?"

He made no reply; his complexion changed and all his embarrassment returned; but as if, on catching the eye of the young lady with whom he had been previously talking, he felt the necessity of instant exertion, he recovered himself again, and after saying, "Yes, I had the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival in town, which you were so good as to send me," turned hastily away with a slight bow and joined his friend.

Marianne, now looking dreadfully white, and unable to stand, sunk into her chair, and Elinor, expecting every moment to see her faint, tried to screen her from the observation of others, while reviving her with lavender water.

"Go to him, Elinor," she cried, as soon as she could speak, "and force him to come to me. Tell him I must see him again—must speak to him instantly.— I cannot rest—I shall not have a moment's peace till this is explained—some dreadful misapprehension or other.— Oh go to him this moment."

"How can that be done? No, my dearest Marianne, you must wait. This is not the place for explanations. Wait only till tomorrow."

With difficulty however could she prevent her from following him herself; and to persuade her to check her agitation, to wait, at least, with the appearance of composure, till she might speak to him with more privacy and more effect, was impossible; for Marianne continued incessantly to give way in a low voice to the misery of her feelings, by exclamations of wretchedness. In a short time Elinor saw Willoughby quit the room by the door towards the staircase, and telling Marianne that he was gone, urged the impossibility of speaking to him again that evening, as a fresh argument for her to be calm. She instantly begged her sister would entreat Lady Middleton to take them home, as she was too miserable to stay a minute longer.

Lady Middleton, though in the middle of a rubber, on being informed that Marianne was unwell, was too polite to object for a moment to her wish of going away, and making over her cards to a friend, they departed as soon the carriage could be found. Scarcely a word was spoken during their return to Berkeley Street. Marianne was in a silent agony, too much oppressed even for tears; but as Mrs. Jennings was luckily not come home, they could go directly to their own room, where hartshorn restored her a little to herself. She was soon undressed and in bed, and as she seemed desirous of being alone, her sister then left her, and while she waited the return of Mrs. Jennings, had leisure enough for thinking over the past.

That some kind of engagement had subsisted between Willoughby and Marianne she could not doubt, and that Willoughby was weary of it, seemed equally clear; for however Marianne might still feed her own wishes, SHE could not attribute such behaviour to mistake or misapprehension of any kind. Nothing but a thorough change of sentiment could account for it. Her indignation would have been still stronger than it was, had she not witnessed that embarrassment which seemed to speak a consciousness of his own misconduct, and prevented her from believing him so unprincipled as to have been sporting with the affections of her sister from the first, without any design that would bear investigation. Absence might have weakened his regard, and convenience might have determined him to overcome it, but that such a regard had formerly existed she could not bring herself to doubt.

As for Marianne, on the pangs which so unhappy a meeting must already have given her, and on those still more severe which might await her in its probable consequence, she could not reflect without the deepest concern. Her own situation gained in the comparison; for while she could esteem Edward as much as ever, however they might be divided in future, her mind might be always supported. But every circumstance that could embitter such an evil seemed uniting to heighten the misery of Marianne in a final separation from Willoughby—in an immediate and irreconcilable rupture with him.



　　随后三四天里没有发生什么情况，好让埃丽诺后悔不该向母亲求告；因为威洛比既没来人，也没来信。那几天快结束的时候，她们应邀陪米德尔顿夫人去参加一次晚会，詹宁斯太太因为小女儿身体不适，不能前去。玛丽安由于过于沮丧，也不着意打扮，似乎去与不去都无所谓，不过她还是准备去，尽管没有要去的样子和愉快的表示。茶后，直至米德尔顿夫人到来之前，她就坐在客厅的壁炉前，一动也不动，只顾想她的心事，不知道她姐姐也在房里。最后听说米德尔顿夫人在门口等候她们，她倏地站起身，好像忘了她在等人似的。
　　她们按时到达目的地。前面的一串马车刚让开路，她们便走下车，登上楼梯，只听见仆人从一节节楼梯平台上传报着她们的姓名。她们走进一间灯火辉煌的客厅，里而宾客满堂，闷热难熬。她们彬彬有礼地向女主人行过屈膝礼，随后就来到众人之间。她们这一来，室内必然显得更热，更拥挤不堪，而她们也只好跟着一起活受罪。大家少言寡语、无所事事地呆了一阵之后，米德尔顿夫人便坐下玩卡西诺。玛丽安因无心走来走去，幸好又有空椅子，就和埃丽诺在离牌桌不远的地方坐了下来。
　　两人没坐多久，埃丽诺一下子发现了威洛比，只见他站在离她们几码处，正和一个非常时髦的年轻女子热切交谈。很快地，威洛比也看见了她，当即向她点点头，但是并不想同她搭话，也不想去接近玛丽安，虽说他不可能看不见她。随后，他又继续同那位女士交谈。埃丽诺不由自主地转向玛丽安，看她会不会没有注意到这一切。恰在此刻，玛丽安先望见了威洛比，心里突然一高兴，整个面孔都红了。她迫不及待地就想朝他那里奔去，不料让姐姐一把拽住了。
　　“天啊！”玛丽安惊叫道，“他在那儿——他在那儿。哦！他怎么不看我？我为什么不能和他说话？"
　　“我求你安静一些，”埃丽诺叫道，“别把你的心思暴露给在场的每个人。也许他还没有发现你。”
　　可是，这话连她自己也不相信。在这种时刻安静下来，玛丽安不仅做不到，而且也不想这么做。她焦灼不安地坐在那里，整个脸色都变了。
　　最后，威洛比终于又回过脸来，瞧着她们两人。玛丽安忽地立起身，亲昵地喊了一声他的名字，就势向他伸出了手。威洛比走过来，偏偏要找埃丽诺搭话，而不和玛丽安攀谈，好像一心想避开她的目光，决计不注意她的态度似的。他匆匆忙忙地问起达什伍德太太的情况，问起她们来城里多久了。埃丽诺看见他这样说话，一时搞得心慌意乱，结果一句话也说不出来。但是她妹妹却一股脑儿地把心里话都倒出来了。她满脸绯红，带着万分激动的语气嚷道：“天哪！威洛比，你这是什么意思？你难道没收到我的信？你难道不想和我握握手？”
　　不握手是不行啦，但是碰到玛丽安似乎又使他感到痛苦。他抓住她的手只握了一下。这段时间，他显然在设法让自己镇定下来。埃丽诺瞧瞧他的脸色，发觉他的表情变得稳静些了。停了一刻，只听他心平气和地说道：
　　“上星期二我荣幸地到伯克利街登门拜访，十分遗憾的是，很不凑巧，你们和詹宁斯太太都不在家。我想你们见到我的名片了。”
　　“难道你没收到我的信？”玛丽安焦急万分地嚷道。“这里面肯定出差错了——一个十分可怕的差错。这到底是怎么回事？告诉我，威洛比——看在上帝的份上，告诉我，这是怎么回事？”
　　威洛比没有回答，他的脸色变了，又现出一副窘态。但是，他一瞧见刚才与他谈话的那个年轻女士的目光，便感到需要马上克制住自己。他重新恢复了镇静，随后说：“是的，你一番好意寄给我的、通知我你们已经进城的信件，我荣幸地收到了。”说罢微微点了下头，急忙返身回到他的朋友跟前。，
　　玛丽安的脸色看上去白得吓人，两腿站也站不住，一屁股坐到椅子上。埃丽诺随时都怕她昏厥过去，一面挡住她不让别人看见，一面用薰衣草香水给她定定神。”，
　　“你去找他，埃丽诺，”玛丽安一能讲话，便说道，“逼着他到我这儿来。告诉他我还要见他——马上有话对他说。我安不下心来——他不解释清楚，我一时一刻也安不下心来。一定发生了什么可怕的误会。哦，你马上去找他。”
　　“那怎么行呢？不，我亲爱的玛丽安，你要等待。这不是作解释的地方。等到明天再说吧。”
　　她好不容易才拦住妹妹，没让她亲自去找威洛比，但要劝她不要激动，至少表面上要镇静些，劝她等到可以与他私下交谈的时候再谈，效果会更好些，这在玛丽安是做不到的。玛丽安一直在长吁短叹，低声倾吐着内心的悲伤。不一会儿，埃丽诺看到威洛比离开客厅朝楼梯口走去，便告诉玛丽安他已经走了，今晚说什么也同他谈不成了，进一步开导她要镇静。玛丽安当即请姐姐去求米德尔顿夫人带她们回家，因为她太难过了，一分钟也呆不下去啦。
　　米德尔顿夫人一局牌正好打到一半，听说玛丽安不舒服，想回去，客客气气地没显出一丝半点的不高兴，把牌交给了一位朋友，马车一准备好便连忙告辞回家。在返回伯克利街的途中，大家几乎一言未发。玛丽安过于伤心，连眼泪都流不出来，只好默默地忍受着。幸亏詹宁斯太太还没回家，她们径直走回自己房里，玛丽安闻了闻嗅盐，稍许镇定了些。她很快脱下衣服，上了床，似乎想一个人呆着，姐姐就走了出去。埃丽诺在等候詹宁斯太太回来的时候，有空仔细考虑了往事。
　　无可怀疑，威洛比和玛丽安曾订过婚；而同样明白无疑的是，威洛比对此厌倦了，因为不管玛丽安还在如何痴心妄想，她埃丽诺总不能把这种行径归咎于什么误解和误会吧。唯一的解释是他完全变了心。埃丽诺若不是亲眼见到他那副窘态，她还要更加义愤填膺。那副窘态仿佛表明他知道自己做了错事，使她不愿相信他会那么品行不端竟然从一开始就心怀叵测，一直在玩弄她妹妹的感情。不在一起可能削弱了他的感情，而贪图物质享受可能使他彻底抛弃了这种感情，但是他以前确实爱过玛丽安，这无论加何无可置疑。
　　至于说到玛丽安，这次不幸的会面已经给她带来了极大的痛苦，以后的结局可能还会使她更加痛苦不堪。埃丽诺前思后想，不能不感到忧虑重重。相比之下，她自己的处境还算好的；因为她能一如既往地敬重爱德华，不管他们将来如何人分两地，她心里总有个精神依托。但是，可能招致不幸的种种现象似乎凑合到一起来了，正在加剧玛丽安的悲痛，与威洛比最终分离的悲痛．—一无可调和地与他马上决裂。 　
  
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举报 只看该作者 30楼  发表于: 2013-10-28 0
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Chapter Twenty-nine
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Before the house-maid had lit their fire the next day, or the sun gained any power over a cold, gloomy morning in January, Marianne, only half dressed, was kneeling against one of the window-seats for the sake of all the little light she could command from it, and writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her. In this situation, Elinor, roused from sleep by her agitation and sobs, first perceived her; and after observing her for a few moments with silent anxiety, said, in a tone of the most considerate gentleness,

"Marianne, may I ask-?"

"No, Elinor," she replied, "ask nothing; you will soon know all."

The sort of desperate calmness with which this was said, lasted no longer than while she spoke, and was immediately followed by a return of the same excessive affliction. It was some minutes before she could go on with her letter, and the frequent bursts of grief which still obliged her, at intervals, to withhold her pen, were proofs enough of her feeling how more than probable it was that she was writing for the last time to Willoughby.

Elinor paid her every quiet and unobtrusive attention in her power; and she would have tried to sooth and tranquilize her still more, had not Marianne entreated her, with all the eagerness of the most nervous irritability, not to speak to her for the world. In such circumstances, it was better for both that they should not be long together; and the restless state of Marianne's mind not only prevented her from remaining in the room a moment after she was dressed, but requiring at once solitude and continual change of place, made her wander about the house till breakfast time, avoiding the sight of every body.

At breakfast she neither ate, nor attempted to eat any thing; and Elinor's attention was then all employed, not in urging her, not in pitying her, nor in appearing to regard her, but in endeavouring to engage Mrs. Jenning's notice entirely to herself.

As this was a favourite meal with Mrs. Jennings, it lasted a considerable time, and they were just setting themselves, after it, round the common working table, when a letter was delivered to Marianne, which she eagerly caught from the servant, and, turning of a death-like paleness, instantly ran out of the room. Elinor, who saw as plainly by this, as if she had seen the direction, that it must come from Willoughby, felt immediately such a sickness at heart as made her hardly able to hold up her head, and sat in such a general tremour as made her fear it impossible to escape Mrs. Jenning's notice. That good lady, however, saw only that Marianne had received a letter from Willoughby, which appeared to her a very good joke, and which she treated accordingly, by hoping, with a laugh, that she would find it to her liking. Of Elinor's distress, she was too busily employed in measuring lengths of worsted for her rug, to see any thing at all; and calmly continuing her talk, as soon as Marianne disappeared, she said,

"Upon my word, I never saw a young woman so desperately in love in my life! MY girls were nothing to her, and yet they used to be foolish enough; but as for Miss Marianne, she is quite an altered creature. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, he won't keep her waiting much longer, for it is quite grievous to see her look so ill and forlorn. Pray, when are they to be married?"

Elinor, though never less disposed to speak than at that moment, obliged herself to answer such an attack as this, and, therefore, trying to smile, replied, "And have you really, Ma'am, talked yourself into a persuasion of my sister's being engaged to Mr. Willoughby? I thought it had been only a joke, but so serious a question seems to imply more; and I must beg, therefore, that you will not deceive yourself any longer. I do assure you that nothing would surprise me more than to hear of their being going to be married."

"For shame, for shame, Miss Dashwood! how can you talk so? Don't we all know that it must be a match, that they were over head and ears in love with each other from the first moment they met? Did not I see them together in Devonshire every day, and all day long; and did not I know that your sister came to town with me on purpose to buy wedding clothes? Come, come, this won't do. Because you are so sly about it yourself, you think nobody else has any senses; but it is no such thing, I can tell you, for it has been known all over town this ever so long. I tell every body of it and so does Charlotte."

"Indeed, Ma'am," said Elinor, very seriously, "you are mistaken. Indeed, you are doing a very unkind thing in spreading the report, and you will find that you have though you will not believe me now."

Mrs. Jennings laughed again, but Elinor had not spirits to say more, and eager at all events to know what Willoughby had written, hurried away to their room, where, on opening the door, she saw Marianne stretched on the bed, almost choked by grief, one letter in her hand, and two or three others laying by her. Elinor drew near, but without saying a word; and seating herself on the bed, took her hand, kissed her affectionately several times, and then gave way to a burst of tears, which at first was scarcely less violent than Marianne's. The latter, though unable to speak, seemed to feel all the tenderness of this behaviour, and after some time thus spent in joint affliction, she put all the letters into Elinor's hands; and then covering her face with her handkerchief, almost screamed with agony. Elinor, who knew that such grief, shocking as it was to witness it, must have its course, watched by her till this excess of suffering had somewhat spent itself, and then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter, read as follows:

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"Bond Street, January.
        "MY DEAR MADAM,
"I have just had the honour of receiving your letter, for which I beg to return my sincere acknowledgments. I am much concerned to find there was anything in my behaviour last night that did not meet your approbation; and though I am quite at a loss to discover in what point I could be so unfortunate as to offend you, I entreat your forgiveness of what I can assure you to have been perfectly unintentional. I shall never reflect on my former acquaintance with your family in Devonshire without the most grateful pleasure, and flatter myself it will not be broken by any mistake or misapprehension of my actions. My esteem for your whole family is very sincere; but if I have been so unfortunate as to give rise to a belief of more than I felt, or meant to express, I shall reproach myself for not having been more guarded in my professions of that esteem. That I should ever have meant more you will allow to be impossible, when you understand that my affections have been long engaged elsewhere, and it will not be many weeks, I believe, before this engagement is fulfilled. It is with great regret that I obey your commands in returning the letters with which I have been honoured from you, and the lock of hair, which you so obligingly bestowed on me.

    "I am, dear Madam,
      "Your most obedient
        "humble servant,
          "JOHN WILLOUGHBY."


With what indignation such a letter as this must be read by Miss Dashwood, may be imagined. Though aware, before she began it, that it must bring a confession of his inconstancy, and confirm their separation for ever, she was not aware that such language could be suffered to announce it; nor could she have supposed Willoughby capable of departing so far from the appearance of every honourable and delicate feeling—so far from the common decorum of a gentleman, as to send a letter so impudently cruel: a letter which, instead of bringing with his desire of a release any professions of regret, acknowledged no breach of faith, denied all peculiar affection whatever—a letter of which every line was an insult, and which proclaimed its writer to be deep in hardened villainy.

She paused over it for some time with indignant astonishment; then read it again and again; but every perusal only served to increase her abhorrence of the man, and so bitter were her feelings against him, that she dared not trust herself to speak, lest she might wound Marianne still deeper by treating their disengagement, not as a loss to her of any possible good but as an escape from the worst and most irremediable of all evils, a connection, for life, with an unprincipled man, as a deliverance the most real, a blessing the most important.

In her earnest meditations on the contents of the letter, on the depravity of that mind which could dictate it, and probably, on the very different mind of a very different person, who had no other connection whatever with the affair than what her heart gave him with every thing that passed, Elinor forgot the immediate distress of her sister, forgot that she had three letters on her lap yet unread, and so entirely forgot how long she had been in the room, that when on hearing a carriage drive up to the door, she went to the window to see who could be coming so unreasonably early, she was all astonishment to perceive Mrs. Jennings's chariot, which she knew had not been ordered till one. Determined not to quit Marianne, though hopeless of contributing, at present, to her ease, she hurried away to excuse herself from attending Mrs. Jennings, on account of her sister being indisposed. Mrs. Jennings, with a thoroughly good-humoured concern for its cause, admitted the excuse most readily, and Elinor, after seeing her safe off, returned to Marianne, whom she found attempting to rise from the bed, and whom she reached just in time to prevent her from falling on the floor, faint and giddy from a long want of proper rest and food; for it was many days since she had any appetite, and many nights since she had really slept; and now, when her mind was no longer supported by the fever of suspense, the consequence of all this was felt in an aching head, a weakened stomach, and a general nervous faintness. A glass of wine, which Elinor procured for her directly, made her more comfortable, and she was at last able to express some sense of her kindness, by saying,

"Poor Elinor! how unhappy I make you!"

"I only wish," replied her sister, "there were any thing I COULD do, which might be of comfort to you."

This, as every thing else would have been, was too much for Marianne, who could only exclaim, in the anguish of her heart, "Oh! Elinor, I am miserable, indeed," before her voice was entirely lost in sobs.

Elinor could no longer witness this torrent of unresisted grief in silence.

"Exert yourself, dear Marianne," she cried, "if you would not kill yourself and all who love you. Think of your mother; think of her misery while YOU suffer: for her sake you must exert yourself."

"I cannot, I cannot," cried Marianne; "leave me, leave me, if I distress you; leave me, hate me, forget me! but do not torture me so. Oh! how easy for those, who have no sorrow of their own to talk of exertion! Happy, happy Elinor, YOU cannot have an idea of what I suffer."

"Do you call ME happy, Marianne? Ah! if you knew!—And can you believe me to be so, while I see you so wretched!"

"Forgive me, forgive me," throwing her arms round her sister's neck; "I know you feel for me; I know what a heart you have; but yet you are—you must be happy; Edward loves you—what, oh what, can do away such happiness as that?"

"Many, many circumstances," said Elinor, solemnly.

"No, no, no," cried Marianne wildly, "he loves you, and only you. You CAN have no grief."

"I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state."

"And you will never see me otherwise. Mine is a misery which nothing can do away."

"You must not talk so, Marianne. Have you no comforts? no friends? Is your loss such as leaves no opening for consolation? Much as you suffer now, think of what you would have suffered if the discovery of his character had been delayed to a later period—if your engagement had been carried on for months and months, as it might have been, before he chose to put an end to it. Every additional day of unhappy confidence, on your side, would have made the blow more dreadful."

"Engagement!" cried Marianne, "there has been no engagement."

"No engagement!"

"No, he is not so unworthy as you believe him. He has broken no faith with me."

"But he told you that he loved you."

"Yes—no—never absolutely. It was every day implied, but never professedly declared. Sometimes I thought it had been—but it never was."

"Yet you wrote to him?"—

"Yes—could that be wrong after all that had passed?— But I cannot talk."

Elinor said no more, and turning again to the three letters which now raised a much stronger curiosity than before, directly ran over the contents of all. The first, which was what her sister had sent him on their arrival in town, was to this effect.

Berkeley Street, January.
"How surprised you will be, Willoughby, on receiving this; and I think you will feel something more than surprise, when you know that I am in town. An opportunity of coming hither, though with Mrs. Jennings, was a temptation we could not resist. I wish you may receive this in time to come here to-night, but I will not depend on it. At any rate I shall expect you to-morrow. For the present, adieu.

"M.D."


Her second note, which had been written on the morning after the dance at the Middletons', was in these words:—

"I cannot express my disappointment in having missed you the day before yesterday, nor my astonishment at not having received any answer to a note which I sent you above a week ago. I have been expecting to hear from you, and still more to see you, every hour of the day. Pray call again as soon as possible, and explain the reason of my having expected this in vain. You had better come earlier another time, because we are generally out by one. We were last night at Lady Middleton's, where there was a dance. I have been told that you were asked to be of the party. But could it be so? You must be very much altered indeed since we parted, if that could be the case, and you not there. But I will not suppose this possible, and I hope very soon to receive your personal assurance of its being otherwise.

"M.D."


The contents of her last note to him were these:—

"What am I to imagine, Willoughby, by your behaviour last night? Again I demand an explanation of it. I was prepared to meet you with the pleasure which our separation naturally produced, with the familiarity which our intimacy at Barton appeared to me to justify. I was repulsed indeed! I have passed a wretched night in endeavouring to excuse a conduct which can scarcely be called less than insulting; but though I have not yet been able to form any reasonable apology for your behaviour, I am perfectly ready to hear your justification of it. You have perhaps been misinformed, or purposely deceived, in something concerning me, which may have lowered me in your opinion. Tell me what it is, explain the grounds on which you acted, and I shall be satisfied, in being able to satisfy you. It would grieve me indeed to be obliged to think ill of you; but if I am to do it, if I am to learn that you are not what we have hitherto believed you, that your regard for us all was insincere, that your behaviour to me was intended only to deceive, let it be told as soon as possible. My feelings are at present in a state of dreadful indecision; I wish to acquit you, but certainty on either side will be ease to what I now suffer. If your sentiments are no longer what they were, you will return my notes, and the lock of my hair which is in your possession.

"M.D."


That such letters, so full of affection and confidence, could have been so answered, Elinor, for Willoughby's sake, would have been unwilling to believe. But her condemnation of him did not blind her to the impropriety of their having been written at all; and she was silently grieving over the imprudence which had hazarded such unsolicited proofs of tenderness, not warranted by anything preceding, and most severely condemned by the event, when Marianne, perceiving that she had finished the letters, observed to her that they contained nothing but what any one would have written in the same situation.

"I felt myself," she added, "to be as solemnly engaged to him, as if the strictest legal covenant had bound us to each other."

"I can believe it," said Elinor; "but unfortunately he did not feel the same."

"He DID feel the same, Elinor—for weeks and weeks he felt it. I know he did. Whatever may have changed him now, (and nothing but the blackest art employed against me can have done it), I was once as dear to him as my own soul could wish. This lock of hair, which now he can so readily give up, was begged of me with the most earnest supplication. Had you seen his look, his manner, had you heard his voice at that moment! Have you forgot the last evening of our being together at Barton? The morning that we parted too! When he told me that it might be many weeks before we met again—his distress—can I ever forget his distress?"

For a moment or two she could say no more; but when this emotion had passed away, she added, in a firmer tone,

"Elinor, I have been cruelly used; but not by Willoughby."

"Dearest Marianne, who but himself? By whom can he have been instigated?"

"By all the world, rather than by his own heart. I could rather believe every creature of my acquaintance leagued together to ruin me in his opinion, than believe his nature capable of such cruelty. This woman of whom he writes—whoever she be—or any one, in short, but your own dear self, mama, and Edward, may have been so barbarous to bely me. Beyond you three, is there a creature in the world whom I would not rather suspect of evil than Willoughby, whose heart I know so well?"

Elinor would not contend, and only replied, "Whoever may have been so detestably your enemy, let them be cheated of their malignant triumph, my dear sister, by seeing how nobly the consciousness of your own innocence and good intentions supports your spirits. It is a reasonable and laudable pride which resists such malevolence."

"No, no," cried Marianne, "misery such as mine has no pride. I care not who knows that I am wretched. The triumph of seeing me so may be open to all the world. Elinor, Elinor, they who suffer little may be proud and independent as they like—may resist insult, or return mortification—but I cannot. I must feel—I must be wretched—and they are welcome to enjoy the consciousness of it that can."

"But for my mother's sake and mine—"

"I would do more than for my own. But to appear happy when I am so miserable—Oh! who can require it?"

Again they were both silent. Elinor was employed in walking thoughtfully from the fire to the window, from the window to the fire, without knowing that she received warmth from one, or discerning objects through the other; and Marianne, seated at the foot of the bed, with her head leaning against one of its posts, again took up Willoughby's letter, and, after shuddering over every sentence, exclaimed—

"It is too much! Oh, Willoughby, Willoughby, could this be yours! Cruel, cruel—nothing can acquit you. Elinor, nothing can. Whatever he might have heard against me—ought he not to have suspended his belief? ought he not to have told me of it, to have given me the power of clearing myself? 'The lock of hair, (repeating it from the letter,) which you so obligingly bestowed on me'—That is unpardonable. Willoughby, where was your heart when you wrote those words? Oh, barbarously insolent!—Elinor, can he be justified?"

"No, Marianne, in no possible way."

"And yet this woman—who knows what her art may have been?—how long it may have been premeditated, and how deeply contrived by her!—Who is she?—Who can she be?—Whom did I ever hear him talk of as young and attractive among his female acquaintance?—Oh! no one, no one—he talked to me only of myself."

Another pause ensued; Marianne was greatly agitated, and it ended thus.

"Elinor, I must go home. I must go and comfort mama. Can not we be gone to-morrow?"

"To-morrow, Marianne!"

"Yes, why should I stay here? I came only for Willoughby's sake—and now who cares for me? Who regards me?"

"It would be impossible to go to-morrow. We owe Mrs. Jennings much more than civility; and civility of the commonest kind must prevent such a hasty removal as that."

"Well then, another day or two, perhaps; but I cannot stay here long, I cannot stay to endure the questions and remarks of all these people. The Middletons and Palmers—how am I to bear their pity? The pity of such a woman as Lady Middleton! Oh, what would HE say to that!"

Elinor advised her to lie down again, and for a moment she did so; but no attitude could give her ease; and in restless pain of mind and body she moved from one posture to another, till growing more and more hysterical, her sister could with difficulty keep her on the bed at all, and for some time was fearful of being constrained to call for assistance. Some lavender drops, however, which she was at length persuaded to take, were of use; and from that time till Mrs. Jennings returned, she continued on the bed quiet and motionless.



　　第二天一早，正当一月的清晨还是寒气袭人、一片昏黯的时候，玛丽安既不等女仆进来生火，也不等太阳送来光和热，衣服还未穿好，便跪伏在窗口，借助外面透进来的一丝亮光，一面泪如泉涌，一面奋笔疾书。埃丽诺被她急剧的嘶泣声惊醒，才发现她处于这般状态。她惶惨不安地静静观察了她好一阵，然后带着体贴入微、温柔之至的口气说：
　　“玛丽安，可不可以问一下？”
　　“不，埃丽诺，”玛丽安回答说，“什么也别问，你很快都会明白的。”
　　纵使是绝望，这话说得颇为镇定。然而好景不长，她话音刚落，便又马上感到悲痛欲绝。过了好几分钟，才继续动笔写信，由于一阵阵地失声痛哭，她又只好不时地停下笔来，这就充分证明了埃丽诺的一种预感：玛丽安一定在给威洛比写最后一封信，
　　埃丽诺默默注视着玛丽安，不敢造次行事。她本想好好安慰安慰她，不料她神经质地苦苦哀求她千万别和她说话。在这种情况下，两人最好还是不要在一起久呆。玛丽安因为心神不定，穿好衣服后在房里一刻也呆不下去，就想一人独处并不停地改换地方，于是她避开众人，绕着房屋徘徊，直走到吃早饭为止。
　　早饭时，她什么也不吃，甚至连吃的意思都没有。此时可真够埃丽诺费心的，不过她不是在劝解她，怜悯她，看样子也不像在关注她，而是竭力把詹宁斯太太的注意力完全吸引到自己身上。
　　因为这是詹宁斯太太很中意的一顿饭，所以前前后后持续了好长时间。饭后，大家刚在针凿桌前坐定，仆人递给玛丽安一封信。玛丽安迫不及待地一把夺过来，只见她脸色变得煞白，转眼跑出房去。埃丽诺一见这种情势仿佛见到了信封上的姓名地址一样，知道这信准是威洛比写来的。顿时，她心里泛起一股厌恶感，难受得几乎连头都抬不起来了。她坐在那里浑身直打颤，生怕难以逃脱詹宁斯太太的注意。谁知，那位好心的太太只看到玛丽安收到威洛比的一封信，这在她看来又是一份绝妙的笑料，因此她也就打趣起来，只听她扑哧一笑，说是希望这封信能让玛丽安称心如意。她因为正忙着为织地毯量绒线，埃丽诺的那副伤心样子，她根本没有察觉。等玛丽安一跑出去，她便安然自得地继续谈了起来：
　　“说实在话，我这一辈子还没见过哪个年轻女人这么痴心相恋的！我的女儿可比不上她，不过她脽妄去也够傻的。说起玛丽安小姐，她可是大变样了。我从心底里希望，威洛比别让她等得太久了。看见她面带病容，可怜见的，真叫人伤心。请问：他们什么时候办喜事？”
　　埃丽诺虽说从没像现在这么懒怠说话，但面对这种挑衅，她又不得不回敬一下，于是强颜欢笑地答道：“太太，你真的嘴里这么一说，心里就相信我妹妹和威洛比先生订婚啦？我原以为你只是开开玩笑而已，可你问得这么一本正经，问题似乎就不那么简单了，因此，我要奉劝你不要再自欺欺人了。我对你说实话吧，听说他们两人要结婚，没有什么话比这更叫我吃惊的了。”
　　“真丢脸，真丢脸啊，达什伍德小姐：亏你说得出口！他们从一见面就卿卿我我地打得火热，难道我们大伙儿不知道他们要结婚？难道我在德文郡没见到他们天天从早到晚泡在一起？难道我不知道你妹妹跟我进城来特意置办婚服？得啦，得啦，别来这一套。你自己诡秘，就以为别人没有头脑；但是，我可以告诉你，根本不是这码事儿，其实，这件事儿早已闹得满城风雨了。我是逢人就说，夏洛特也是这样。”
　　“的确，太太，”埃丽诺十分严肃地说道，“你搞错了。你到处传播这消息，实在太不厚道了。虽然你现在不会相信我的话，你将来总会发现自已实在不厚道。”
　　詹宁斯太太又哈哈一笑，可是埃丽诺已经无心再费口舌。她急切地想知道威洛比写了些什么内容，便匆匆忙忙地赶回自己房里。打开门一看，只见玛丽安直挺挺地趴在床上，伤心得泣不成声，手里抓着一封信，身旁还放着两三封。埃丽诺走到她跟前，但是一声没响。她坐到床上，抓住妹妹的手，亲热地吻了几下，随即失声痛哭起来，那个伤心劲儿，起初简直不亚于玛丽安。玛丽安虽然说不出话，却似乎觉得姐姐这一举动情深意切，于是两人同声悲泣了一阵之后，她便把几封信都递进埃丽诺手里，然后用手帕捂住脸，悲痛得差一点尖叫起来。埃丽诺见她如此悲痛，实在令人惊骇，知道这里面定有缘故，便在一旁守望着，直到这场极度的悲痛略为平息下去。随即，她急忙打开威洛比的信，读了起来：
　　一月写于邦德街
　　
亲爱的小姐：
　　适才有幸接读来函，为此请允许我向你致以诚挚的谢意。我颇感不安地发现，我昨晚的举止不尽令你满意。我虽然不知道在哪一点上不幸有所冒犯，但还是恳请你原谅，我敢担保那纯属无意。每当我想起先前与尊府在德文郡的交往，心头不禁浮起感激欢悦之情，因而便自不量力地以为，即使我行动上出点差错，或者引起点误会，也不至于破坏这种友情，我对你们全家充满了真诚的敬意。但是，倘若不幸让你认为我抱有别的念头或者别的意思的话，那我只好责备自己在表达这种敬意时有失谨慎，你只要了解以下情况，就会知道我不可能含有别的意思：我早就与别人定了情，而且我认为不出几个星期，我们就将完婚。我不胜遗憾地奉命寄还我荣幸地收到的惠书和惠赠给我的那绺头发。
　　您的谦卑恭顺的仆人
　　约翰·威洛比

　　可以想象，达什伍德小姐读到这样一封信，一定会义愤填膺。虽然她没读之前就知道，这准是他用情不专的一份自白，证实他俩将永远不得结合，但是她不知道如何容忍这样的语言：她也无法想象威洛比怎么能这样寡廉鲜耻，这样不顾绅士的体面，竟然寄来如此无耻、如此恶毒的一封信：在这封信里，他既想解除婚约，又不表示任何歉意，不承认自己背信弃义，矢口否认自己有过任何持殊的感情。在这封信里，字字行行都是谗言恶语，表明写信人已经深深陷进了邪恶的泥坑而不能自拔。
　　埃丽诺又气又惊地沉思了一阵，接着又读了几遍，每读一遍，就越发痛恨威洛比。因为对他太深恶痛绝了，她连话都不敢说，唯恐出言不逊让玛丽安更加伤心。在她看来，他们解除婚约对妹妹并没有任何坏处，而是使她逃脱了一场最不幸、最可怕的灾难，逃脱了跟一个无耻之徒的终身苟合，这是真正的得救，实属万幸。
　　埃丽诺一门心思在考虑那封信的内容，考虑写信人的卑鄙无耻，甚至可能在考虑另一个人的另一种心肠，这个人与这件事本来没有关系，她只是主观上把他和方才发生的一切联系到一起了。想着想着，她忘记了妹妹目前的痛苦，忘记膝上还放着三封信没有看，完全忘记了她在房里呆了多长时间。恰在这时，她听见有一辆马车驶到门前，便起身走到窗口，看看是谁不近人情地来得这么早。一看是詹宁斯太太的马车，她不禁大吃一惊，因为她知道主人直到一点钟才吩咐套车的。她现在虽然无法劝慰玛丽安，但她还是不想抛下她不管，于是她赶忙跑出去禀告詹宁斯太太：因为妹妹身体不舒服，自己只好失陪。詹宁斯太太正赶在兴头上，十分关心玛丽安的情况，便欣然同意了。埃丽诺把她送走后，又回去照看玛丽安，只见她撑着身子想从床上爬起来，因为长时间缺吃少睡而晕晕乎乎的，差一点摔到地板上，幸亏埃丽诺及时赶上去将她扶住。多少天来，她白日不思茶饭，夜晚睡不踏实，现在心里一旦失去了原来的焦灼不安的期待，顿时感到头痛胃虚，整个神经脆弱不堪。埃丽诺立刻给她倒了一杯葡萄酒，她喝下去觉得好受了些。最后，她总算对埃丽诺的一片好心领了点情，说道：
　　“可怜的埃丽诺，我把你连累得好苦啊：”
　　“我只希望，”姐姐应道，“我能有什么法子可以安慰安慰你。”
　　这话和别的话一样，实在叫玛丽安受不了。她心里忍着极大的痛苦，只能发出一声悲叹：“噢，埃丽诺，我好苦啊！”说罢又泣不成声。
　　埃丽诺见她如此悲戚，再也沉不住气了。
　　“玛丽安，你若是不想把你自己和你的亲人都折磨死的话，”她大声说道，“就请你克制一下。想想母亲，你忍受痛苦的时候，也想想她的痛苦。为了她，你必须克制自己。”
　　“我做不到，我做不到，”玛丽安嚷道。“我要是惹你苦恼了，就请你离开我，离开我；你尽管离开我，痛恨我，忘掉我，但是不要这么折磨我。哼！自己没有伤心事，说起克制来当然轻巧：快快乐乐的埃丽诺，你是无法知道我有多么痛苦的。”
　　“你居然说我快乐，玛丽安！唉，你若是知道就好啦：我眼看着你这么悲痛，你倒认为我是快乐的！”
　　“请原谅我，请原谅我，”说着将手臂搂住了姐姐的脖子，“我知道你为我伤心，我知道你心肠好。不过，你还是——你一定是快乐的。爱德华爱你——不是吗！什么事情能抵消掉这样的幸福：”
　　“很多很多情况，”埃丽诺郑重其事地说。
　　“不，不，不，”玛丽安狂叫道。“他爱你，而且只爱你一个人。你不可能有什么痛苦。”
　　“看到你弄成这副样子，我不可能有什么快乐。”
　　“你永远也看不到我变成另外一副样子。我的痛苦无论怎样也无法解除。”
　　“你不能这么说，玛丽安。你难道没有可以感到安慰的事情？没有朋友？你的损失就那么大，连安慰的余地都没有啦？尽管你现在感到很痛苦，可是你想想看，假使你到后来才发现他的为人，假使你们订婚好多个月以后才提出退婚，那你会遭受多大的痛苦？你要是不幸地每与他多接近一天，你就感到这打击越发可怕。”
　　“订婚！”玛丽安嚷道，“我们没有订婚呀。”
　　“没有订婚！”
　　“没有，他不像你想象的那样卑鄙无耻。他没有对我背信弃义。”
　　“但他对你说过他爱你吧？”
　　“是的——不——从来没有——绝对没有。他每天都含有这个意思，但是从来没有明说过。有时我以为他说了——其实他从没说过。”
　　“但他给你写过信吧？”
　　“是的——事情到了那个地步，难道写信也有错？不过我也没法说啦。”
　　埃丽诺没再作声。此时，那三封信比先前引起了她的更大兴趣，于是她马上把信的内容匆匆瞧一遍。第一封信是她妹妹刚进城时写给威洛比的，内容如下：
　　一月，于伯克利街
　　
威洛比，你收到达封信会感到十分惊奇！我想，你若是知道我在城里，可能还不止是惊奇呢。有机会来这里（虽说与詹宁斯太太一起来的），对我们具有难以克制的诱惑力。我希望你能及时收到此信，今晚就来到这里，不过我想你未必能来。无论如何，我明天等你。再见。
　　玛．达

　　第二封信是参加了米德尔顿家的舞会后的第二天上午写的，内容如下：
　　
前天没有见到你，我说不出有多么失望。还有，我一个多星期前写给你一封信，至今不见回音，也使我感到惊讶。我一天到晚无时无刻不在期待你的来信，更期待见到你。请你尽快再来一趟，解释一下为什么叫我空盼一场。你下次最好来得早一点，因为我们通常在一点钟以前出去。昨晚米德尔顿夫人家举行舞会，我们都去参加了。我听说你也受到邀请。但这可能吗？如果情况果真如此，而你又没去，那自从我们分手以来，你可是判若两人了。不过我认为这是不可能的，希望立即得到你的亲自保证：情况并非如此。
　　玛．达

　　玛丽安最后一封信的内容是这样的：
　　
[table=98%,#EBF2F9,#EBF2F9,20][tr][td]威洛比，你叫我怎么想象你昨晚的举动？我再次要求你作出解释。我本来准备和你高高兴兴、亲亲然热地见上一面，因为我们久别重逢自然会产生一种喜幸感，而我们在巴顿的亲密关系似乎理所当然地会带来一种亲切感。不想我遭到了冷落!我痛苦了一个晚上，总想为你那简直是侮辱性的行为寻找个理由。虽然我尚未替你找到合乎情理的辩解之词，我倒很想听听你自己的辩护。也许你在关系到我的什么事情上听到了什么误传，或是上了别有用心的人的当，从而降低了我在你心目中的地位。告诉我这是怎么回事，解释一下你为什么要这样做，那么，我将为能消除你的疑虑而感到满足。的确，假如我不得不把你想得很坏的话，我是会非常痛苦的。不过，如果我真需要这样做，如果我真知道你已经不像我们迄今想象的那样，你对我们大家的关心只是一片虚情假意，你对我的所作所为只是为了欺骗我，那
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Chapter Thirty

Mrs. Jennings came immediately to their room on her return, and without waiting to have her request of admittance answered, opened the door and walked in with a look of real concern.

"How do you do my dear?"—said she in a voice of great compassion to Marianne, who turned away her face without attempting to answer.

"How is she, Miss Dashwood?—Poor thing! she looks very bad.— No wonder. Ay, it is but too true. He is to be married very soon—a good-for-nothing fellow! I have no patience with him. Mrs. Taylor told me of it half an hour ago, and she was told it by a particular friend of Miss Grey herself, else I am sure I should not have believed it; and I was almost ready to sink as it was. Well, said I, all I can say is, that if this be true, he has used a young lady of my acquaintance abominably ill, and I wish with all my soul his wife may plague his heart out. And so I shall always say, my dear, you may depend on it. I have no notion of men's going on in this way; and if ever I meet him again, I will give him such a dressing as he has not had this many a day. But there is one comfort, my dear Miss Marianne; he is not the only young man in the world worth having; and with your pretty face you will never want admirers. Well, poor thing! I won't disturb her any longer, for she had better have her cry out at once and have done with. The Parrys and Sandersons luckily are coming tonight you know, and that will amuse her."

She then went away, walking on tiptoe out of the room, as if she supposed her young friend's affliction could be increased by noise.

Marianne, to the surprise of her sister, determined on dining with them. Elinor even advised her against it. But "no, she would go down; she could bear it very well, and the bustle about her would be less." Elinor, pleased to have her governed for a moment by such a motive, though believing it hardly possible that she could sit out the dinner, said no more; and adjusting her dress for her as well as she could, while Marianne still remained on the bed, was ready to assist her into the dining room as soon as they were summoned to it.

When there, though looking most wretchedly, she ate more and was calmer than her sister had expected. Had she tried to speak, or had she been conscious of half Mrs. Jennings's well-meant but ill-judged attentions to her, this calmness could not have been maintained; but not a syllable escaped her lips; and the abstraction of her thoughts preserved her in ignorance of every thing that was passing before her.

Elinor, who did justice to Mrs. Jennings's kindness, though its effusions were often distressing, and sometimes almost ridiculous, made her those acknowledgments, and returned her those civilities, which her sister could not make or return for herself. Their good friend saw that Marianne was unhappy, and felt that every thing was due to her which might make her at all less so. She treated her therefore, with all the indulgent fondness of a parent towards a favourite child on the last day of its holidays. Marianne was to have the best place by the fire, was to be tempted to eat by every delicacy in the house, and to be amused by the relation of all the news of the day. Had not Elinor, in the sad countenance of her sister, seen a check to all mirth, she could have been entertained by Mrs. Jennings's endeavours to cure a disappointment in love, by a variety of sweetmeats and olives, and a good fire. As soon, however, as the consciousness of all this was forced by continual repetition on Marianne, she could stay no longer. With a hasty exclamation of Misery, and a sign to her sister not to follow her, she directly got up and hurried out of the room.

"Poor soul!" cried Mrs. Jennings, as soon as she was gone, "how it grieves me to see her! And I declare if she is not gone away without finishing her wine! And the dried cherries too! Lord! nothing seems to do her any good. I am sure if I knew of any thing she would like, I would send all over the town for it. Well, it is the oddest thing to me, that a man should use such a pretty girl so ill! But when there is plenty of money on one side, and next to none on the other, Lord bless you! they care no more about such things!—"

"The lady then—Miss Grey I think you called her—is very rich?"

"Fifty thousand pounds, my dear. Did you ever see her? a smart, stylish girl they say, but not handsome. I remember her aunt very well, Biddy Henshawe; she married a very wealthy man. But the family are all rich together. Fifty thousand pounds! and by all accounts, it won't come before it's wanted; for they say he is all to pieces. No wonder! dashing about with his curricle and hunters! Well, it don't signify talking; but when a young man, be who he will, comes and makes love to a pretty girl, and promises marriage, he has no business to fly off from his word only because he grows poor, and a richer girl is ready to have him. Why don't he, in such a case, sell his horses, let his house, turn off his servants, and make a thorough reform at once? I warrant you, Miss Marianne would have been ready to wait till matters came round. But that won't do now-a-days; nothing in the way of pleasure can ever be given up by the young men of this age."

"Do you know what kind of a girl Miss Grey is? Is she said to be amiable?"

"I never heard any harm of her; indeed I hardly ever heard her mentioned; except that Mrs. Taylor did say this morning, that one day Miss Walker hinted to her, that she believed Mr. and Mrs. Ellison would not be sorry to have Miss Grey married, for she and Mrs. Ellison could never agree."—

"And who are the Ellisons?"

"Her guardians, my dear. But now she is of age and may choose for herself; and a pretty choice she has made!—What now," after pausing a moment—"your poor sister is gone to her own room, I suppose, to moan by herself. Is there nothing one can get to comfort her? Poor dear, it seems quite cruel to let her be alone. Well, by-and-by we shall have a few friends, and that will amuse her a little. What shall we play at? She hates whist I know; but is there no round game she cares for?"

"Dear ma'am, this kindness is quite unnecessary. Marianne, I dare say, will not leave her room again this evening. I shall persuade her if I can to go early to bed, for I am sure she wants rest."

"Aye, I believe that will be best for her. Let her name her own supper, and go to bed. Lord! no wonder she has been looking so bad and so cast down this last week or two, for this matter I suppose has been hanging over her head as long as that. And so the letter that came today finished it! Poor soul! I am sure if I had had a notion of it, I would not have joked her about it for all my money. But then you know, how should I guess such a thing? I made sure of its being nothing but a common love letter, and you know young people like to be laughed at about them. Lord! how concerned Sir John and my daughters will be when they hear it! If I had my senses about me I might have called in Conduit Street in my way home, and told them of it. But I shall see them tomorrow."

"It would be unnecessary I am sure, for you to caution Mrs. Palmer and Sir John against ever naming Mr. Willoughby, or making the slightest allusion to what has passed, before my sister. Their own good-nature must point out to them the real cruelty of appearing to know any thing about it when she is present; and the less that may ever be said to myself on the subject, the more my feelings will be spared, as you my dear madam will easily believe."

"Oh! Lord! yes, that I do indeed. It must be terrible for you to hear it talked of; and as for your sister, I am sure I would not mention a word about it to her for the world. You saw I did not all dinner time. No more would Sir John, nor my daughters, for they are all very thoughtful and considerate; especially if I give them a hint, as I certainly will. For my part, I think the less that is said about such things, the better, the sooner 'tis blown over and forgot. And what does talking ever do you know?"

"In this affair it can only do harm; more so perhaps than in many cases of a similar kind, for it has been attended by circumstances which, for the sake of every one concerned in it, make it unfit to become the public conversation. I must do THIS justice to Mr. Willoughby—he has broken no positive engagement with my sister."

"Law, my dear! Don't pretend to defend him. No positive engagement indeed! after taking her all over Allenham House, and fixing on the very rooms they were to live in hereafter!"

Elinor, for her sister's sake, could not press the subject farther, and she hoped it was not required of her for Willoughby's; since, though Marianne might lose much, he could gain very little by the enforcement of the real truth. After a short silence on both sides, Mrs. Jennings, with all her natural hilarity, burst forth again.

"Well, my dear, 'tis a true saying about an ill-wind, for it will be all the better for Colonel Brandon. He will have her at last; aye, that he will. Mind me, now, if they an't married by Mid-summer. Lord! how he'll chuckle over this news! I hope he will come tonight. It will be all to one a better match for your sister. Two thousand a year without debt or drawback—except the little love-child, indeed; aye, I had forgot her; but she may be 'prenticed out at a small cost, and then what does it signify? Delaford is a nice place, I can tell you; exactly what I call a nice old fashioned place, full of comforts and conveniences; quite shut in with great garden walls that are covered with the best fruit-trees in the country; and such a mulberry tree in one corner! Lord! how Charlotte and I did stuff the only time we were there! Then, there is a dove-cote, some delightful stew-ponds, and a very pretty canal; and every thing, in short, that one could wish for; and, moreover, it is close to the church, and only a quarter of a mile from the turnpike-road, so 'tis never dull, for if you only go and sit up in an old yew arbour behind the house, you may see all the carriages that pass along. Oh! 'tis a nice place! A butcher hard by in the village, and the parsonage-house within a stone's throw. To my fancy, a thousand times prettier than Barton Park, where they are forced to send three miles for their meat, and have not a neighbour nearer than your mother. Well, I shall spirit up the Colonel as soon as I can. One shoulder of mutton, you know, drives another down. If we CAN but put Willoughby out of her head!"

"Ay, if we can do THAT, Ma'am," said Elinor, "we shall do very well with or without Colonel Brandon." And then rising, she went away to join Marianne, whom she found, as she expected, in her own room, leaning, in silent misery, over the small remains of a fire, which, till Elinor's entrance, had been her only light.

"You had better leave me," was all the notice that her sister received from her.

"I will leave you," said Elinor, "if you will go to bed." But this, from the momentary perverseness of impatient suffering, she at first refused to do. Her sister's earnest, though gentle persuasion, however, soon softened her to compliance, and Elinor saw her lay her aching head on the pillow, and as she hoped, in a way to get some quiet rest before she left her.

In the drawing-room, whither she then repaired, she was soon joined by Mrs. Jennings, with a wine-glass, full of something, in her hand.

"My dear," said she, entering, "I have just recollected that I have some of the finest old Constantia wine in the house that ever was tasted, so I have brought a glass of it for your sister. My poor husband! how fond he was of it! Whenever he had a touch of his old colicky gout, he said it did him more good than any thing else in the world. Do take it to your sister."

"Dear Ma'am," replied Elinor, smiling at the difference of the complaints for which it was recommended, "how good you are! But I have just left Marianne in bed, and, I hope, almost asleep; and as I think nothing will be of so much service to her as rest, if you will give me leave, I will drink the wine myself."

Mrs. Jennings, though regretting that she had not been five minutes earlier, was satisfied with the compromise; and Elinor, as she swallowed the chief of it, reflected, that though its effects on a colicky gout were, at present, of little importance to her, its healing powers, on a disappointed heart might be as reasonably tried on herself as on her sister.

Colonel Brandon came in while the party were at tea, and by his manner of looking round the room for Marianne, Elinor immediately fancied that he neither expected nor wished to see her there, and, in short, that he was already aware of what occasioned her absence. Mrs. Jennings was not struck by the same thought; for soon after his entrance, she walked across the room to the tea-table where Elinor presided, and whispered— "The Colonel looks as grave as ever you see. He knows nothing of it; do tell him, my dear."

He shortly afterwards drew a chair close to her's, and, with a look which perfectly assured her of his good information, inquired after her sister.

"Marianne is not well," said she. "She has been indisposed all day, and we have persuaded her to go to bed."

"Perhaps, then," he hesitatingly replied, "what I heard this morning may be—there may be more truth in it than I could believe possible at first."

"What did you hear?"

"That a gentleman, whom I had reason to think—in short, that a man, whom I KNEW to be engaged—but how shall I tell you? If you know it already, as surely you must, I may be spared."

"You mean," answered Elinor, with forced calmness, "Mr. Willoughby's marriage with Miss Grey. Yes, we DO know it all. This seems to have been a day of general elucidation, for this very morning first unfolded it to us. Mr. Willoughby is unfathomable! Where did you hear it?"

"In a stationer's shop in Pall Mall, where I had business. Two ladies were waiting for their carriage, and one of them was giving the other an account of the intended match, in a voice so little attempting concealment, that it was impossible for me not to hear all. The name of Willoughby, John Willoughby, frequently repeated, first caught my attention; and what followed was a positive assertion that every thing was now finally settled respecting his marriage with Miss Grey—it was no longer to be a secret—it would take place even within a few weeks, with many particulars of preparations and other matters. One thing, especially, I remember, because it served to identify the man still more:—as soon as the ceremony was over, they were to go to Combe Magna, his seat in Somersetshire. My astonishment!—but it would be impossible to describe what I felt. The communicative lady I learnt, on inquiry, for I stayed in the shop till they were gone, was a Mrs. Ellison, and that, as I have been since informed, is the name of Miss Grey's guardian."

"It is. But have you likewise heard that Miss Grey has fifty thousand pounds? In that, if in any thing, we may find an explanation."

"It may be so; but Willoughby is capable—at least I think"—he stopped a moment; then added in a voice which seemed to distrust itself, "And your sister—how did she—"

"Her sufferings have been very severe. I have only to hope that they may be proportionately short. It has been, it is a most cruel affliction. Till yesterday, I believe, she never doubted his regard; and even now, perhaps—but I am almost convinced that he never was really attached to her. He has been very deceitful! and, in some points, there seems a hardness of heart about him."

"Ah!" said Colonel Brandon, "there is, indeed! But your sister does not—I think you said so—she does not consider quite as you do?"

"You know her disposition, and may believe how eagerly she would still justify him if she could."

He made no answer; and soon afterwards, by the removal of the tea-things, and the arrangement of the card parties, the subject was necessarily dropped. Mrs. Jennings, who had watched them with pleasure while they were talking, and who expected to see the effect of Miss Dashwood's communication, in such an instantaneous gaiety on Colonel Brandon's side, as might have become a man in the bloom of youth, of hope and happiness, saw him, with amazement, remain the whole evening more serious and thoughtful than usual.



　　詹宁斯太太一回家，就来到她俩的房间，敲敲门，还没等听到回音，便推开门走了进去，脸上显出十分关切的神气。
　　“你好吗，亲爱的？”她带着极为同情的口吻对玛丽安说，不料玛丽安背过脸去，并不理她。
　　“她怎么样啦，达什伍德小姐？可怜的人儿！她脸色很不好。这也难怪。唉，这事儿一点也不假。威洛比马上就要结婚了——没出息的家伙！真叫我不能容忍。泰勒太太半个钟头以前告诉我的，而她又是从格雷小姐的一个好朋友那儿听说的，不然我肯定不会相信。我简直快给气昏了，唉，我说，我只能这样说：如果真有其事，那他就可恶透顶地亏待了与我相识的一位小姐，我真心希望他老婆搅得他心神不宁。亲爱的，你尽管放心，我要永远这么说。我不知道男人还有这么胡作非为的。我若是再见到他，非狠狠训他一顿不可，这许多天来倒轻松了他。不过，玛丽安小姐，有一点是令人宽慰的：天下值得追求的年轻人不止他一个，就凭着你那张漂亮的脸蛋，爱慕你的人永远少不了。好了，可怜的人儿！我不再打扰她啦，最好叫她马上痛痛快快地哭上一场，然后这件事儿就算了结啦。你知道，帕里夫妇和桑德森夫妇幸好今晚要来，可以让玛丽安高兴高兴啦。，
　　她说罢便扭过身，踮着脚尖走出房去，好像她的年轻朋友一听到响声会更加痛苦似的。
　　出乎姐姐的意料之外，玛丽安定要和大伙儿一道吃饭。埃丽诺劝她不要这样做，但是她不肯，她要下楼去。她完全能受得了，大伙儿也好少围着她忙来忙去。埃丽诺见她一时间能有意克制自己，不由得高兴起来。虽然她觉得她在饭桌上难以善始善终，她还是没有作声。趁玛丽安还躺在床上的时候，就尽心地给她整理衣服，想等下面一叫，便扶着她走进餐厅。
　　到了餐厅，她虽然看上去万分沮丧，但是比姐姐想象的吃得多，也镇定得多。她假若开口说说话，或者对詹宁斯太太那些本意，良好但不合时宜的殷勤款待稍许敏感一些的话，她不可能保持镇定。谁知她嘴里没吐—个字，而且由于她心不在焉，对眼前发生的事情全然不知。
　　詹宁斯太太的一片好心，虽然往往表现得令入烦恼，有时简直荒谬可笑，但是埃丽诺还比较公道，屡次向她表示感谢，显得礼貌十分周全，这是妹妹绝对做不到的。且说，她们妹妹俩的这位好朋友发现玛丽安愁眉苦脸的，觉得她责无旁贷地要帮助她减少痛苦。因此，她像长辈对待自己的掌上明珠一样，在孩子回家度假的最后一天，一个劲地骄惯溺爱她。她要把玛丽安安排在炉前的最好位置，要用家里的种种佳肴诱她吃饱吃好，要拿当天的所有新闻逗她喜笑颜开。埃丽诺若不是见妹妹神色不好，不敢嬉笑的话，她真要被詹宁斯太太逗乐了：她居然想用五花八门的蜜饯、橄揽以及暖烘烘的火炉，来医治情场失意的创伤。不料，她反来复去地这么搞，终于被玛丽安察觉了意图，于是她再也呆不下去了。她急忙哀叹了一声，向姐姐做了个手势，示意她不要跟着她走，然后便立起身来，勿匆走出房去。
　　“可怜的人儿！”玛丽安一走出去，詹宁斯太太便大声叫了起来，“看见她真叫我伤心啊，真没想到，她连酒也没喝完就走了！还有那樱桃脯也没吃完！天哪！好像什么东西也不对她的胃口。我敢说，我假使知道她爱吃什么东西，我一定打发人跑遍全城去找。唉，有人竟然如此亏待这么漂亮的一个姑娘，真是不可思议！不过，在一方有的是钱、另一方钱很少的情况下（愿上帝保佑！），人们也就不在乎这些东西啦！”
　　“这么说来，那位小姐——我想你管她叫格雷小姐——非常有钱啦？”
　　“五万镑啊，亲爱的。你见过她吗？听说是个风流时髦的小姐，但是并不漂亮。我还清清楚楚地记得她的姑妈比迪·亨肖，她嫁给了一个大财主。她一家人都跟着发了财。五万镑，据大家说，这笔钱来得很及时，因为据说威洛比破产了。这也难怪，谁叫他乘着马车、带着猎犬东奔西颠的！唉，说这些有什么用，不过一个年轻小伙子，不管他是什么人，既然向一位漂亮的站娘求了爱，而且答应娶她，不能仅仅因为自己越来越穷，有一位阔小姐愿意嫁给他，就突然变了卦。在这种情况下，他为什么不卖掉马，出租房子，辞退佣人，马上来个彻底的改过自新？我向你担保，玛丽安小姐本来会愿意等到景况有所好转的。不过没有用，如今的年轻人什么时候也不会放弃追求享乐的。”
　　“你知道格雷小姐是个什么样的姑娘吗？是不是说她挺温顺的？”
　　“我从没听说她有什么不好。的确，我几乎从没听见有人提起她，只是今天早晨听泰勒夫人说，华克小姐有一天向她暗示，她认为埃利森夫妇很愿意把格雷小姐嫁出去，因为她和埃利森夫人总是合不来。”
　　“埃利森夫妇是什么人？”
　　“她的保护人呀，亲爱的。不过她现在成年了，可以自己选择了，她已经做出了一个奇妙的选择。对啦，”詹宁斯太太顿了顿，然后说，“你可怜的妹妹回自己房间了，想必是一个人伤心去了。我们大家就想不出个办法安慰安慰她？可怜的好孩子，叫她孤苦伶仃地一个人呆着，这似乎太冷酷无情了。对了，不一会儿要来几个客人，可能会引她高兴一点。我们玩什么呢？我知道她讨厌惠斯特。不过，难道没有一种打法她喜欢？”
　　“亲爱的太太，你大可不必费这个心。玛丽安今晚决不会再离开她的房间。如果可能的话，我倒要劝她早点上床睡觉，她实在需要休息。”
　　“啊，我看那对她最好不过了。晚饭吃什么让她自已点，吃好就去睡觉。天哪!难怪她这一两个星期总是神色不好，垂头丧气的，我想她这些日子一直在悬念着这件事儿。谁想今天接到一封信，事情全吹了！可怜的人儿！我若是早知道的话，决不会拿她开玩笑。可你知道，这样的事儿我怎么猜得着呢？我还一心以为这只不过是一封普普通通的情书呢。而且你也知道，年轻人总喜欢别人开开他们的玩笑。天哪！约翰爵士和我的两个女儿听到这个消息，会有多么担忧啊！我若是有点头脑的话，刚才在回家的路上该到康迪特街去一趟，给他们捎个信儿。不过我明天会见到他们的。”
　　“我相信，帕尔默夫人和约翰爵士用不着你提醒，也会留神别在我妹妹面前提起威洛比先生，或者拐弯抹角地提起这件事。他们都是善良人，知道在她面前露出知情的样子会让她多么痛苦。还有一点你这位亲爱的太太不难置信，别人在这件事上对我谈得越少，我心里就会少难受些。”
　　“哦，天哪！我当然相信。你听见别人谈论这件事，一定非常难过。至于你妹妹嘛，我敢肯定，我绝对不会向她提起这件事儿。你都看见了，我整个午饭期间只字未提呀，约翰爵士和我两个女儿也不会贸然提起，因为他们心眼都很细，很会体贴人，——特别是我向他们一暗示的话，那更不成问题，当然我是一定要暗示的。就我来说，我想这种事情说得越少越好，遗忘得也越快。你知道，说来说去有什么好处呢？”
　　“对这件事，谈来谈去只有害处——害处之大，也许超过许多同类事件，因为看在每个当事人的份上，有些情况是不亚于当众谈论的。我必须替威洛比先生说这么，一句公道话—一他与我妹妹没有明确订婚，因而无所谓解除婚约。”
　　“啊，天哪！你别装模作样地替他辩护啦。好一个没有明确订婚！谁不知道他带着你妹妹把艾伦汉宅第都逛遍了，还把他们以后要住哪些房间都说定了！”
　　埃丽诺看在妹妹的面上，不好坚持硬说下去。况且，看在威洛比的面上，她认为也没有必要再坚持下去。因为她若是硬要争个青红皂白，玛丽安固然要大受其害，威洛比也将无利可得。两人沉默了不一会儿，詹宁斯太太毕竟是个热性子人，突然又嚷嚷起来：
　　“好啦，亲爱的，这里倒真正用得上‘恶风不尽恶，此失而彼得’那句俗语，因为布兰登上校就要从中捞到好处了。他最终要得到玛丽安啦。是的，他会得到她的。你听我说，到了夏至，他们不结婚才怪呢。天哪！上校听到这消息会多么开心啊！我希望他今晚就来。他与你妹妹匹配多了。一年两千镑，既无债务，又无障碍——只是确实有个小私生女。对啦，我把她给忘了。不过花不了几个钱，就能打发她去当学徒，这样一来有什么要紧？我可以告诉你，德拉福是个好地方，完全像我说的那样，是个风景优美、古色古香的好地方，条件舒适，设施便利，四周围着园墙，大花园里种植着乡下最优良的果树。有个角落长着一棵好棒的桑树！天哪！我和夏洛特就去过那儿一次，可把肚子撑坏了！此外还有一座鸽棚，几口可爱的鱼塘，和一条非常美的河流。总之，只要人们想得到的，应有尽有。何况，又挨近教堂，离公路只有四分之一英里，什么时候也不会觉得单调无聊，因为屋后有一块老紫杉树荫地，只要往里面一坐，来往的车辆一览无余。哦！真是个好地方！就在村庄上不远的地方住着个屠户，距离牧师公馆只有一箭之地。依我看，准比巴顿庄园强上一千倍。在巴顿庄园，买肉要跑三英里路，没有一家邻居比你母亲再近的了。好啦，我要尽快给上校鼓鼓气。你知道，羊肩肉味道好，吃着这一块就忘了前一块。我们只要能让她忘掉威洛比就好啦！”
　　“啊，太太，只要能做到这一点，”埃丽诺说，“以后有没有布兰登上校都好办。”说罢站起身，找玛丽安去了。不出她所料，玛丽安就在房里，闷闷不乐地坐在奄奄一息的炉火前。直到埃丽诺进来为止，室内就这么一点亮光。
　　“你最好离开我，”做姐姐的就听她说了这么一句话。
　　“你要是上床睡觉，”埃丽诺说，“我就离开你。”但是，玛丽安实在悲痛难忍，凭着一时任性，先是拒不答应。然而，经不住姐姐苦口婆心地好言相劝，她很快又乖乖地顺从了。埃丽诺见她把疼痛的脑袋枕到枕头上，真像她希望的那样要安安稳稳地休息一下，便走出房去。
　　她随后来到客厅，过不一会儿，詹宁斯太太也来了，手里端着一只酒杯，斟得满满的。
　　“亲爱的，”她说着走了进来，“我刚刚想起，我家里还有点康斯坦雪陈酒，你从没品尝过这么好的上等酒——所以我给你妹妹带来一杯。我那可怜的丈夫！他多么喜欢这酒啊！他那胆酸痛风症的老毛病一发作，就说天下没有什么东西比这老酒对他更有效。快端给你妹妹吧。”
　　“亲爱的太太，”埃丽诺答道，听说这酒可以医治如此截然不同的疾病，不由得微微一笑，“你真是太好啦！但我刚才来的时候，玛丽安已经上床了，差不多都睡着啦。我想，对她最有益的还是睡眠，你要是允许的话，这酒就让我喝了吧。”
　　詹宁斯太太虽然悔恨自己没有早来五分钟，可是对这折衷办法倒也满意。埃丽诺咕嘟咕嘟地喝掉大半杯，一面心里在想：虽然这酒对胆酸痛风症的疗效如何目前对她无关紧要，不过它既然能治好失恋的心灵创伤，让她试用与让她妹妹试用岂不同样有意义。
　　正当大伙儿用茶的时候，布兰登上校进来了。根据他在室内东张西望寻觅玛丽安的神态，埃丽诺当即断定：他既不期待也不希望见到她，总而言之，他已经晓得了造成她缺席的缘由。詹宁斯太太不是这么想的，因为一见他走进门，她就来到对面埃丽诺主持的茶桌前，悄声说道：“你瞧，上校看样子和以往一样沉重。他还一点不知道呢，快告诉他吧，亲爱的。”
　　随后不久，上校拉出一张椅子挨近埃丽诺坐下，然后便问起了玛丽安的情况，他那神气越发使她确信：他已经掌握了确切的消息。
　　“玛丽安情况不佳，”埃丽诺说。“她一整天都不舒服，我们劝她睡觉去了。”
　　“那么，也许，”上校吞吞吐吐地说，“我今天早晨听到的消息是真实的——我起初不敢相信，看来可能真有其事。”
　　“你听到什么啦？”
　　“听说有个男子，我有理由认为——简单地说，有个人，我早就知道他订了婚——我怎么跟你说呢？你若是已经知道了，而且你谅必一定是知道的，就用不着我再说啦。”
　　“你的意思是说，”埃丽诺故作镇定地应道，“威洛比先生要与格雷小姐结婚？是的，这我们确实知道。今天似乎是个真相大白的日子，因为直到今天上午我们才知道这件事。威洛比先生真是令人莫测高深！你是在哪几听说的？”
　　“在帕尔美尔街一家文具店里，我到那儿有事。有两个女士正在等马车，其中一个向另一个叙说起这桩计划中的婚事，听声音并不怕别人听到，因此我可以听得一字不漏。首先引起我注意的，是她一再提到威洛比的名字：约翰．威洛比。接着她十分肯定地说：他与格雷小姐的婚事已经最后敲定——不需要再保密了—一甚至不出几周就要办喜事，还具体地谈到了许多准备情况和其他事宜。有一件事我记得尤为清楚，因为它有助于进一步鉴别那个人。婚礼一完结，他们就计划去库姆大厦，也就是威洛比在萨默塞特郡的宅第。真叫我吃惊啊！不过我当时的心情是莫可名状的。我在文具店里呆到她们走，当场一打听，才知道那个藏不住话的是埃利森太太，后来又听人说，那是格雷小姐的保护人的名字。”
　　“是这样。你是不是也听说格雷小姐有五万镑，如果我们在什么地方可以找到解释的话，这或许就是一个。”
　　“这有可能，不过威洛比可能——至少我认为——”上校略停了片刻，然后用一种似乎缺乏自信的语气补充说，“且说你妹妹——她怎么—”
　　“她非常痛苦。我只能希望痛苦的时间相对短一些。她一直到现在，悲痛极了。我想直到昨天，她还从未怀疑过威洛比的情意。甚至现在，也许——不过，我倒几乎确信，他从未真正爱过她。他一向很不老实！从某些事情上看，他似乎心肠挺冷酷。”
　　“嗨！”布兰登上校说，“确实如此：可是你妹妹不——我想你说过——她不像你这样认为的吧？”
　　“你了解她的脾气，尽可相信：要是可能的话，她现在还急着替威洛比辩护呢。”
　　上校没有应声。过不一会儿，茶盏端走了，牌桌安排妥当，人们必然也就不再谈论这个话题。詹宁斯太太本来一直在兴致勃勃地瞅着他们两个谈话，心想只要达什伍德小姐一露口风，布兰登上校马上就会笑逐颜开，就如同一个人进入青年时期，充满了希望和幸福一祥。不料她惊奇地发现：上校整个晚上比往常还要不苟言笑，心事重重。 　
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Thirty-one
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From a night of more sleep than she had expected, Marianne awoke the next morning to the same consciousness of misery in which she had closed her eyes.

Elinor encouraged her as much as possible to talk of what she felt; and before breakfast was ready, they had gone through the subject again and again; and with the same steady conviction and affectionate counsel on Elinor's side, the same impetuous feelings and varying opinions on Marianne's, as before. Sometimes she could believe Willoughby to be as unfortunate and as innocent as herself, and at others, lost every consolation in the impossibility of acquitting him. At one moment she was absolutely indifferent to the observation of all the world, at another she would seclude herself from it for ever, and at a third could resist it with energy. In one thing, however, she was uniform, when it came to the point, in avoiding, where it was possible, the presence of Mrs. Jennings, and in a determined silence when obliged to endure it. Her heart was hardened against the belief of Mrs. Jennings's entering into her sorrows with any compassion.

"No, no, no, it cannot be," she cried; "she cannot feel. Her kindness is not sympathy; her good-nature is not tenderness. All that she wants is gossip, and she only likes me now because I supply it."

Elinor had not needed this to be assured of the injustice to which her sister was often led in her opinion of others, by the irritable refinement of her own mind, and the too great importance placed by her on the delicacies of a strong sensibility, and the graces of a polished manner. Like half the rest of the world, if more than half there be that are clever and good, Marianne, with excellent abilities and an excellent disposition, was neither reasonable nor candid. She expected from other people the same opinions and feelings as her own, and she judged of their motives by the immediate effect of their actions on herself. Thus a circumstance occurred, while the sisters were together in their own room after breakfast, which sunk the heart of Mrs. Jennings still lower in her estimation; because, through her own weakness, it chanced to prove a source of fresh pain to herself, though Mrs. Jennings was governed in it by an impulse of the utmost goodwill.

With a letter in her outstretched hand, and countenance gaily smiling, from the persuasion of bringing comfort, she entered their room, saying,

"Now, my dear, I bring you something that I am sure will do you good."

Marianne heard enough. In one moment her imagination placed before her a letter from Willoughby, full of tenderness and contrition, explanatory of all that had passed, satisfactory, convincing; and instantly followed by Willoughby himself, rushing eagerly into the room to inforce, at her feet, by the eloquence of his eyes, the assurances of his letter. The work of one moment was destroyed by the next. The hand writing of her mother, never till then unwelcome, was before her; and, in the acuteness of the disappointment which followed such an ecstasy of more than hope, she felt as if, till that instant, she had never suffered.

The cruelty of Mrs. Jennings no language, within her reach in her moments of happiest eloquence, could have expressed; and now she could reproach her only by the tears which streamed from her eyes with passionate violence—a reproach, however, so entirely lost on its object, that after many expressions of pity, she withdrew, still referring her to the letter of comfort. But the letter, when she was calm enough to read it, brought little comfort. Willoughby filled every page. Her mother, still confident of their engagement, and relying as warmly as ever on his constancy, had only been roused by Elinor's application, to intreat from Marianne greater openness towards them both; and this, with such tenderness towards her, such affection for Willoughby, and such a conviction of their future happiness in each other, that she wept with agony through the whole of it.

All her impatience to be at home again now returned; her mother was dearer to her than ever; dearer through the very excess of her mistaken confidence in Willoughby, and she was wildly urgent to be gone. Elinor, unable herself to determine whether it were better for Marianne to be in London or at Barton, offered no counsel of her own except of patience till their mother's wishes could be known; and at length she obtained her sister's consent to wait for that knowledge.

Mrs. Jennings left them earlier than usual; for she could not be easy till the Middletons and Palmers were able to grieve as much as herself; and positively refusing Elinor's offered attendance, went out alone for the rest of the morning. Elinor, with a very heavy heart, aware of the pain she was going to communicate, and perceiving, by Marianne's letter, how ill she had succeeded in laying any foundation for it, then sat down to write her mother an account of what had passed, and entreat her directions for the future; while Marianne, who came into the drawing-room on Mrs. Jennings's going away, remained fixed at the table where Elinor wrote, watching the advancement of her pen, grieving over her for the hardship of such a task, and grieving still more fondly over its effect on her mother.

In this manner they had continued about a quarter of an hour, when Marianne, whose nerves could not then bear any sudden noise, was startled by a rap at the door.

"Who can this be?" cried Elinor. "So early too! I thought we HAD been safe."

Marianne moved to the window—

"It is Colonel Brandon!" said she, with vexation. "We are never safe from him."

"He will not come in, as Mrs. Jennings is from home."

"I will not trust to that," retreating to her own room. "A man who has nothing to do with his own time has no conscience in his intrusion on that of others."

The event proved her conjecture right, though it was founded on injustice and error; for Colonel Brandon DID come in; and Elinor, who was convinced that solicitude for Marianne brought him thither, and who saw THAT solicitude in his disturbed and melancholy look, and in his anxious though brief inquiry after her, could not forgive her sister for esteeming him so lightly.

"I met Mrs. Jennings in Bond Street," said he, after the first salutation, "and she encouraged me to come on; and I was the more easily encouraged, because I thought it probable that I might find you alone, which I was very desirous of doing. My object—my wish—my sole wish in desiring it—I hope, I believe it is—is to be a means of giving comfort;—no, I must not say comfort—not present comfort—but conviction, lasting conviction to your sister's mind. My regard for her, for yourself, for your mother—will you allow me to prove it, by relating some circumstances which nothing but a VERY sincere regard—nothing but an earnest desire of being useful—I think I am justified—though where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?" He stopped.

"I understand you," said Elinor. "You have something to tell me of Mr. Willoughby, that will open his character farther. Your telling it will be the greatest act of friendship that can be shewn Marianne. MY gratitude will be insured immediately by any information tending to that end, and HERS must be gained by it in time. Pray, pray let me hear it."

"You shall; and, to be brief, when I quitted Barton last October,—but this will give you no idea—I must go farther back. You will find me a very awkward narrator, Miss Dashwood; I hardly know where to begin. A short account of myself, I believe, will be necessary, and it SHALL be a short one. On such a subject," sighing heavily, "can I have little temptation to be diffuse."

He stopt a moment for recollection, and then, with another sigh, went on.

"You have probably entirely forgotten a conversation—(it is not to be supposed that it could make any impression on you)—a conversation between us one evening at Barton Park—it was the evening of a dance—in which I alluded to a lady I had once known, as resembling, in some measure, your sister Marianne."

"Indeed," answered Elinor, "I have NOT forgotten it." He looked pleased by this remembrance, and added,

"If I am not deceived by the uncertainty, the partiality of tender recollection, there is a very strong resemblance between them, as well in mind as person. The same warmth of heart, the same eagerness of fancy and spirits. This lady was one of my nearest relations, an orphan from her infancy, and under the guardianship of my father. Our ages were nearly the same, and from our earliest years we were playfellows and friends. I cannot remember the time when I did not love Eliza; and my affection for her, as we grew up, was such, as perhaps, judging from my present forlorn and cheerless gravity, you might think me incapable of having ever felt. Her's, for me, was, I believe, fervent as the attachment of your sister to Mr. Willoughby and it was, though from a different cause, no less unfortunate. At seventeen she was lost to me for ever. She was married—married against her inclination to my brother. Her fortune was large, and our family estate much encumbered. And this, I fear, is all that can be said for the conduct of one, who was at once her uncle and guardian. My brother did not deserve her; he did not even love her. I had hoped that her regard for me would support her under any difficulty, and for some time it did; but at last the misery of her situation, for she experienced great unkindness, overcame all her resolution, and though she had promised me that nothing—but how blindly I relate! I have never told you how this was brought on. We were within a few hours of eloping together for Scotland. The treachery, or the folly, of my cousin's maid betrayed us. I was banished to the house of a relation far distant, and she was allowed no liberty, no society, no amusement, till my father's point was gained. I had depended on her fortitude too far, and the blow was a severe one—but had her marriage been happy, so young as I then was, a few months must have reconciled me to it, or at least I should not have now to lament it. This however was not the case. My brother had no regard for her; his pleasures were not what they ought to have been, and from the first he treated her unkindly. The consequence of this, upon a mind so young, so lively, so inexperienced as Mrs. Brandon's, was but too natural. She resigned herself at first to all the misery of her situation; and happy had it been if she had not lived to overcome those regrets which the remembrance of me occasioned. But can we wonder that, with such a husband to provoke inconstancy, and without a friend to advise or restrain her (for my father lived only a few months after their marriage, and I was with my regiment in the East Indies) she should fall? Had I remained in England, perhaps—but I meant to promote the happiness of both by removing from her for years, and for that purpose had procured my exchange. The shock which her marriage had given me," he continued, in a voice of great agitation, "was of trifling weight—was nothing to what I felt when I heard, about two years afterwards, of her divorce. It was THAT which threw this gloom,—even now the recollection of what I suffered—"

He could say no more, and rising hastily walked for a few minutes about the room. Elinor, affected by his relation, and still more by his distress, could not speak. He saw her concern, and coming to her, took her hand, pressed it, and kissed it with grateful respect. A few minutes more of silent exertion enabled him to proceed with composure.

"It was nearly three years after this unhappy period before I returned to England. My first care, when I did arrive, was of course to seek for her; but the search was as fruitless as it was melancholy. I could not trace her beyond her first seducer, and there was every reason to fear that she had removed from him only to sink deeper in a life of sin. Her legal allowance was not adequate to her fortune, nor sufficient for her comfortable maintenance, and I learnt from my brother that the power of receiving it had been made over some months before to another person. He imagined, and calmly could he imagine it, that her extravagance, and consequent distress, had obliged her to dispose of it for some immediate relief. At last, however, and after I had been six months in England, I did find her. Regard for a former servant of my own, who had since fallen into misfortune, carried me to visit him in a spunging-house, where he was confined for debt; and there, the same house, under a similar confinement, was my unfortunate sister. So altered—so faded—worn down by acute suffering of every kind! hardly could I believe the melancholy and sickly figure before me, to be the remains of the lovely, blooming, healthful girl, on whom I had once doted. What I endured in so beholding her—but I have no right to wound your feelings by attempting to describe it—I have pained you too much already. That she was, to all appearance, in the last stage of a consumption, was—yes, in such a situation it was my greatest comfort. Life could do nothing for her, beyond giving time for a better preparation for death; and that was given. I saw her placed in comfortable lodgings, and under proper attendants; I visited her every day during the rest of her short life: I was with her in her last moments."

Again he stopped to recover himself; and Elinor spoke her feelings in an exclamation of tender concern, at the fate of his unfortunate friend.

"Your sister, I hope, cannot be offended," said he, "by the resemblance I have fancied between her and my poor disgraced relation. Their fates, their fortunes, cannot be the same; and had the natural sweet disposition of the one been guarded by a firmer mind, or a happier marriage, she might have been all that you will live to see the other be. But to what does all this lead? I seem to have been distressing you for nothing. Ah! Miss Dashwood—a subject such as this—untouched for fourteen years—it is dangerous to handle it at all! I WILL be more collected—more concise. She left to my care her only child, a little girl, the offspring of her first guilty connection, who was then about three years old. She loved the child, and had always kept it with her. It was a valued, a precious trust to me; and gladly would I have discharged it in the strictest sense, by watching over her education myself, had the nature of our situations allowed it; but I had no family, no home; and my little Eliza was therefore placed at school. I saw her there whenever I could, and after the death of my brother, (which happened about five years ago, and which left to me the possession of the family property,) she visited me at Delaford. I called her a distant relation; but I am well aware that I have in general been suspected of a much nearer connection with her. It is now three years ago (she had just reached her fourteenth year,) that I removed her from school, to place her under the care of a very respectable woman, residing in Dorsetshire, who had the charge of four or five other girls of about the same time of life; and for two years I had every reason to be pleased with her situation. But last February, almost a twelvemonth back, she suddenly disappeared. I had allowed her, (imprudently, as it has since turned out,) at her earnest desire, to go to Bath with one of her young friends, who was attending her father there for his health. I knew him to be a very good sort of man, and I thought well of his daughter—better than she deserved, for, with a most obstinate and ill-judged secrecy, she would tell nothing, would give no clue, though she certainly knew all. He, her father, a well-meaning, but not a quick-sighted man, could really, I believe, give no information; for he had been generally confined to the house, while the girls were ranging over the town and making what acquaintance they chose; and he tried to convince me, as thoroughly as he was convinced himself, of his daughter's being entirely unconcerned in the business. In short, I could learn nothing but that she was gone; all the rest, for eight long months, was left to conjecture. What I thought, what I feared, may be imagined; and what I suffered too."

"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "could it be—could Willoughby!"—

"The first news that reached me of her," he continued, "came in a letter from herself, last October. It was forwarded to me from Delaford, and I received it on the very morning of our intended party to Whitwell; and this was the reason of my leaving Barton so suddenly, which I am sure must at the time have appeared strange to every body, and which I believe gave offence to some. Little did Mr. Willoughby imagine, I suppose, when his looks censured me for incivility in breaking up the party, that I was called away to the relief of one whom he had made poor and miserable; but HAD he known it, what would it have availed? Would he have been less gay or less happy in the smiles of your sister? No, he had already done that, which no man who can feel for another would do. He had left the girl whose youth and innocence he had seduced, in a situation of the utmost distress, with no creditable home, no help, no friends, ignorant of his address! He had left her, promising to return; he neither returned, nor wrote, nor relieved her."

"This is beyond every thing!" exclaimed Elinor.

"His character is now before you; expensive, dissipated, and worse than both. Knowing all this, as I have now known it many weeks, guess what I must have felt on seeing your sister as fond of him as ever, and on being assured that she was to marry him: guess what I must have felt for all your sakes. When I came to you last week and found you alone, I came determined to know the truth; though irresolute what to do when it WAS known. My behaviour must have seemed strange to you then; but now you will comprehend it. To suffer you all to be so deceived; to see your sister—but what could I do? I had no hope of interfering with success; and sometimes I thought your sister's influence might yet reclaim him. But now, after such dishonorable usage, who can tell what were his designs on her. Whatever they may have been, however, she may now, and hereafter doubtless WILL turn with gratitude towards her own condition, when she compares it with that of my poor Eliza, when she considers the wretched and hopeless situation of this poor girl, and pictures her to herself, with an affection for him so strong, still as strong as her own, and with a mind tormented by self-reproach, which must attend her through life. Surely this comparison must have its use with her. She will feel her own sufferings to be nothing. They proceed from no misconduct, and can bring no disgrace. On the contrary, every friend must be made still more her friend by them. Concern for her unhappiness, and respect for her fortitude under it, must strengthen every attachment. Use your own discretion, however, in communicating to her what I have told you. You must know best what will be its effect; but had I not seriously, and from my heart believed it might be of service, might lessen her regrets, I would not have suffered myself to trouble you with this account of my family afflictions, with a recital which may seem to have been intended to raise myself at the expense of others."

Elinor's thanks followed this speech with grateful earnestness; attended too with the assurance of her expecting material advantage to Marianne, from the communication of what had passed.

"I have been more pained," said she, "by her endeavors to acquit him than by all the rest; for it irritates her mind more than the most perfect conviction of his unworthiness can do. Now, though at first she will suffer much, I am sure she will soon become easier. Have you," she continued, after a short silence, "ever seen Mr. Willoughby since you left him at Barton?"

"Yes," he replied gravely, "once I have. One meeting was unavoidable."

Elinor, startled by his manner, looked at him anxiously, saying,

"What? have you met him to—"

"I could meet him no other way. Eliza had confessed to me, though most reluctantly, the name of her lover; and when he returned to town, which was within a fortnight after myself, we met by appointment, he to defend, I to punish his conduct. We returned unwounded, and the meeting, therefore, never got abroad."

Elinor sighed over the fancied necessity of this; but to a man and a soldier she presumed not to censure it.

"Such," said Colonel Brandon, after a pause, "has been the unhappy resemblance between the fate of mother and daughter! and so imperfectly have I discharged my trust!"

"Is she still in town?"

"No; as soon as she recovered from her lying-in, for I found her near her delivery, I removed her and her child into the country, and there she remains."

Recollecting, soon afterwards, that he was probably dividing Elinor from her sister, he put an end to his visit, receiving from her again the same grateful acknowledgments, and leaving her full of compassion and esteem for him.



　　玛丽安夜里比她料想的睡得要多，然而第二天早晨一觉醒来，却依然觉得像先前合眼时一样痛苦。
　　埃丽诺尽量鼓励她多谈谈自己的感受，没等早饭准备好，她们已经反反复复地谈论了好几遍。每次谈起来，埃丽诺总是抱着坚定不移的信念，满怀深情地开导她，而玛丽安却总像以前那样容易冲动，没有定见。她有时认为威洛比和她自己—样无辜、不幸，有时又绝望地感到不能宽恕他。她时而哪怕举世瞩目也毫不在乎，时而又想永远与世隔绝，时而又想与世抗争下去。不过有一件事她倒是始终如一的：一谈到本题，只要可能，她总是避开詹宁斯太太，若是万一摆脱不了，那就坚决一声不响。她已经铁了心，不相信詹宁斯太太会体谅她的痛苦。
　　“不，不，不，这不可能，”她大声嚷道，“她不会体谅我。她的仁慈不是同情，她的和蔼不是体贴。她所需要的只是说说闲话，而她现在所以喜欢我，只是因为我给她提供了话柄。”
　　埃丽诺即便不听这话，也早知妹妹由于自己思想敏感精细，过分强调人要多情善感，举止娴雅，因而看待别人往往有失公道。如果说世界上有一多半人是聪慧善良的，那么，具有卓越才能和良好性情的玛丽安却如同其他一小半人一样，既不通情达理，又有失于公正。她期望别人和她怀有同样的情感和见解，她判断别人的动机如何，就看他们的行为对她自已产生什么样的直接效果。一天早饭后，正当妹妹俩一起呆在房里的时候，就发生了这么一件事，进一步降低了玛丽安对詹宁斯太太的评价。原来，都怪她自己不好，这件事意外地给她带来了新的痛苦，而詹宁斯太太则完全出自一番好意，情不自禁地给卷了进去。
　　她手里拿着一封信，认为一定会给玛丽安带来欣慰，便老远伸出手，喜笑颜开地走进房来，一面说道：
　　“喂，亲爱的，我给你带来一样东西，管保叫你高兴。”
　　玛丽安听得真切。霎时间，她想象中见到威洛比的一封来信，写得情意缠绵，悔恨交加，把过往之事一五一十地作了解释，令人满意而信服，转瞬间，威洛比又急匆匆地跑进房来，拜倒在她的脚下，两眼脉脉含情地望着她，一再保证他信里说的句句都是实话。谁想，这一切顷刻间便化为泡影。呈现在她面前的，是她以前从未讨厌过的母亲的手迹；在那欣喜若狂的幻景破灭之后，接跟而来的是极度的失望，她不由地感到，仿佛到了那个时刻才真正遭受到痛苦似的。
　　詹宁斯太太的冷酷无情，即令玛丽安处在最能说会道的时刻，也无法用言语加以形容。现在她只能用涌流不止的泪水来谴责她——然而这种谴责完全不为对方所领悟，她又说了许多表示同情的话，然后便走了出去，还劝导她读读信，宽慰宽慰自己。但是，等玛丽安安静下来读信的时候，她从中并未得到什么安慰。威洛比的名字充斥着每一页信纸。母亲仍然确信女儿订了婚，一如既往地坚信威洛比忠贞不渝，因为只是受到埃丽诺的求告，才来信恳请玛丽安对她们俩坦率一些。字里行间充满了对女儿的温情，对威洛比的厚爱，对他们未来幸福的深信不疑，玛丽安边读边痛哭不止。
　　现在玛丽安又产生了回家的迫切愿望。母亲对她来说比以往任何时候都倍感亲切．一一—由于她过于误信威洛比，才显得倍加亲切。玛丽安迫不及待地要走，埃丽诺自己也拿不定主意，不知玛丽安究竟呆在伦敦好，还是回到巴顿好，因此没有发表自己的意见，只是劝她要有耐心，等着听听母亲的意见。最后，她终于说服了妹妹，同意听候母亲的意见。
　　詹宁斯太太比通常早些离开了她们。因为不让米德尔顿夫妇和帕尔默夫妇像她一样感伤一番，她总是于心不安。埃丽诺提出要陪她一起去，被她断然拒绝了，她一个人出去了，一个上午都在外边。埃丽诺忧心忡忡，知道她是去传播这些伤心事的，同时从玛丽安收到的信中可以看出，她对此事没能让母亲做好任何思想准备，于是，便坐下来着手给母亲写信，把发生的情况告诉她，请求她对将来怎么办作出吩咐。与此同时，玛丽安等詹宁斯太太一走，也来到客厅，现在正一动不动地坐在埃丽诺伏案写信的桌前，盯着她唰唰舞动的笔，不仅为她吃这苦头感到伤心，而且更为母亲会做出何等反应而感到忧愁不安。
　　这种局面大约持续了一刻来钟。这时，玛丽安的神经已经紧张得无法承受任何突如其来的声响，不料偏偏被一阵敲门声吓了一跳。
　　“这是谁呀？”埃丽诺嚷道。“来得这么早！我还以为不会有人来打扰呢。”
　　玛丽安走到窗口。
　　“是布兰登上校！”她恼怒地说道。“我们什么时候也摆脱不了他！”
　　“詹宁斯太太不在家，他不会进来的。”
　　“我才不信你这话呢，”她说着就往自己房里走去。“一个人自己无所事事，总要厚着脸皮来侵占别人的时间。”
　　尽管玛丽安的猜测是建立在不公正的基础上，但是事实证明她还是猜对了，因为布兰登上校确实进来了。埃丽诺深知他是由于挂念玛丽安才到这里来的，而且从他那忧郁不安的神情里确实发现了这种挂念，便无法宽恕妹妹竟然如此小看他。
　　“我在邦德街遇见了詹宁斯太太，”寒瞻之后，上校说道，“她怂恿我来一趟，而我也容易被怂恿，因为我想八成只会见到你一个人，这是我求之不得的。我要单独见见你的目的——．愿望——我唯一的愿望——我希望，我认为是——是给你妹妹带来点安慰——不，我不该说安慰——不是一时的安慰——而是信念，持久的信念。我对她、对你、对你母亲的尊敬——请允许我摆出一些情况加以证明，这完全是极其诚恳的尊重——只是诚挚地希望帮帮忙——我想我有理由这样做一一虽然我费了好几个小时说服自己这样做是正确的，我还是在担心自己是不是可能犯错误？”他顿住了。
　　“我明白你的意思，”埃丽诺说。“你想向我谈谈威洛比的情况，好进一步揭示一下他的人格。你说说这个，将是对玛丽安最友好的表示。若是你提供的消息有助于达到那一目的，我将马上对你表示感激不尽，玛丽安有朝一日也一定会感激你的。请吧，快说给我听听。”
　　“你会听到的，简单地说，去年十月，我离开巴顿的时候———不过这样说会让你摸不着头脑。我必须再往前说起。达什伍德小姐，你会发现我笨嘴拙舌的，简直不知道从何说起。我想有必要简短地叙说一下我自己，而且确实是很简短。在这个问题上，”说着深深叹了口气，“我没有什么值得罗嗦的。”
　　他停下，略思片刻，接着又叹口气，继续说了下去。
　　“你大概全然忘记了一次谈话．——（这本来也不可能给你留下什么印象）——那是一天晚上，我们在巴顿庄园进行的—次谈话——那天晚上有个舞会—一我提到我过去认识一位小姐，长得有些像你妹妹玛丽安。”
　　“不错，”埃丽诺答道，“我没有忘记。”一听说她还记得，上校显得很高兴，便接着说道：
　　“如果我在令人感伤的回忆中没有被捉摸不定的现象和偏见所蒙骗的话，她们两人在容貌和性情上都十分相似———一样的热情奔放，一样的想入非非、兴致勃勃。这位小姐是我的—个近亲，从小就失去了父母，我父亲就成了她的保护入。我俩几乎同年，从小青梅竹马。我不记得我还有不爱伊丽莎的时候，我们长大以后，我对她一往情深，不过从我目前孤苦无告和闷闷不乐的情况来看，也许你会认为我不可能有过这种感情。她对我的一片深情，我想就像你妹妹对威洛比一样炽烈。可是我们的爱情同样是不幸的，虽然原因不一样。她十七岁那年，我永远失去了她。她嫁人了——违心地嫁给了我哥哥。她有一大笔财产，而我的庄园却负债累累。这恐怕是我对她的舅父和保护人的行为所能作出的全部说明。我哥哥配不上她。他甚至也不爱她。我本来希望，她对我的爱会激励她度过任何困难，而在一段时间里也确实是这样。可到后来，她受到了无情的虐待，悲惨的处境动摇了她的决心，虽然她答应我不会——瞧，我真是乱说一气：我还从没告诉你这是怎么引起来的。我们准备再过几个小时就一起私奔到苏格兰，不料我表妹的女仆背信弃义，或是办事不牢，把我们出卖了。我被赶到一个远方的亲戚家里，她失去了自由，不许交际和娱乐，直到我父亲达到了他的目的为止。我过于相信她的刚正不阿，因而受到了严厉的打击——不过，她的婚姻假若幸福的话，我当时尽管很年轻，过几个月也就死心塌地了，至少现在不用为之悲伤。然而，情况并非如此。我哥哥对她没有感情，追求的是不正当的快乐，从一开始就待她不好。对于像布兰登夫人这样一个年轻、活泼、缺乏经验的女性来说，由此而造成的后果是极其自然的。起初，对于这种悲惨的处境她听天由命。她若是后来没有消除由于怀念我而产生的懊恼，事情倒也好办些。但是，说来难怪的是，她有那样的丈夫逗引她用情不专，又没有亲戚朋友开导她，遏制她（因为我父亲在他们婚后只活了几个月，而我又随我的团驻扎在东印度群岛），她堕落了。我若是呆在英国的话，也许——．不过我是想促成他们两人的幸福，才一走好几年的，并且特意和人换了防。她结婚给我带来的震惊，”上校声音颤抖地继续说道，“同我大约两年后听说她离了婚的感觉相比，实在是微不足道。正是这件事引起了我的满腹忧愁，直至现在，一想起我那时的痛苦——”
　　他再也叙说不下去了，只见他急忙立起身，在房里踯躅了几分钟。埃丽诺听着他的叙说，特别是看到他那样痛苦，感动得也说不出后来。上校见她如此关切，便走过来，抓住她的手紧紧握住，感激丁罢舛伪嗟娜兆庸チ私*，我回到英国。我刚—到，头一件事当然是寻找她。但是真叫人伤心，找来找去毫无结果。我查到第一个诱她下水的人，再也追查不下去了。我有充分理由担心，她离开他进一步陷入了堕落的深渊。她的法定津贴既不足以使她富有起来，也不够维持她的舒适生活。哥哥告诉我，几个月以前，她的津贴接受权被转让给另一个人。他设想——而且可以安然自得地设想，生活的奢侈以及由此引起的拮据，迫使她不得不转让财产，以应付某种当务之急。最后，我回到英国六个月之后，我终于找到了她。我以前有个仆人，后来遭到不幸，因为负债而被关进拘留所，我出于对他的关心，到拘留所看望他。在那儿，就在同一幢房子里，由于同样的原因，还关着我那不幸的表妹。她完全变了样——变得病弱不堪——被种种艰难困苦折磨垮了！面对着这个形容憔悴、神志萎靡的人儿，我简直不敢相信，我曾经心爱过的那个如花似玉、健美可爱的姑娘，居然落到如此悲惨的境地。我这么望着她，真是心如刀绞一—但是我没有权利细说给你听，伤害你的感情——我已经太使你伤心了。后来，她处在结核病的后期，这倒是——是的，在这种情况下，这对我倒是个莫大的安慰。生命对她来说，除了给点时间为死亡做好充分的准备之外，别无其他意义。而这点准备时间还是给了她的。我看见她被放置在舒适的房间里，受到妥善的护理。在她逝世前的一段时间，我每天都去看望她。在她生命的最后时刻，我守在她身旁。”
　　上校又停下来，想镇定一下。埃丽诺不由得发出一声哀叹，表示了对他朋友的不幸遭通的深切同情。
　　“我认为你妹妹和我那可怜的丢人现眼的表妹十分相似，”上校说，“我希望你妹妹不要生气。她们的命运不可能是一样的。我表妹天生的温柔性情，假若意志坚强一些，或者婚事如意一些，她就可能和你将来要看到的你妹妹的情况一模一样。但是，我说这些干什么？我似乎一直在无缘无故地惹你烦恼。嗨！达什伍德小姐——这样一个话题——已经有十四年没有提起了——一旦说起来还真有点危险呢！我还是冷静点——说得简洁点。她把她唯一的小孩托付于我。那是个女孩，是她同第一个非法男人生下的，当时只有三岁左右。她很爱这孩子，总是把她带在身边。这是对我难能可贵的莫大信任。假如条件许可的话，我将会很乐意严格履行我的职责，亲自抓抓她的教育。但是我没有妻室，没有家，因此我的小伊丽莎只好放在学校里。我一旦有空，就去学校看望她，我哥哥死后（那大约是五年前的事情，我因此而继承了家业），她就常来德拉福看我。我“天哪!"埃丽诺叫了起来,"能有这种事情!难道能是威洛比——”
　　“关于小伊丽莎的最早消息，”上校继续说道，“我是从她去年十月写来的一封信里得知的。这封信从德拉福转来，我是恰好在大家准备去惠特韦尔游玩的那天早晨收到的。这就是我突然离开巴顿的原因。我知道，大家当时肯定觉得很奇怪，而且我相信还得罪了几个人。威洛比见我不礼貌地破坏了游览，只顾向我投来责难的目光，可是我认为他尽*真是可恶透顶！”埃丽诺大声嚷道。
　　“现在我已向你摆明了他的人格——挥霍无度，放荡不羁，而且比这更糟。你了解了这一切（而我已经了解了好多个星期啦），就请设想一下：我见到你妹妹依然那么迷恋他，还说要嫁给他，我心里该是什么滋味。请设想一下：我多么为你们担忧。我上星期到这里来，看到只你一个人，便决定问明事实真相，虽然等真的问明真相以后又怎么办，我心里一点没谱。我当时的行为一定会使你感到奇怪，不过现在你该明白啦。任凭你们大家如此上当受骗，眼看着你妹妹——可我能有什么办法？我的干预是不可能奏效的。有时我想，你妹妹也许能把他感化过来。然而事到如今，他竟干出了这么不光彩的事情，谁知道他对你妹妹安的是什么心？不过，不管他用心如何，你妹妹只要把自己的情况与伊丽莎的情况加以比较，考虑一下这位可怜少女的凄惨而绝望的处境，设想一下她还像她自己一样对威洛比一片痴情，而内心却要毕生忍受自责的痛苦，那么，你妹妹现在和将来都无疑会对自己的情况感到庆幸。确实，这种比较对她一定会有好处。她会感到，她自己的痛苦是微不足道的。这些痛苦不是起因于行为不端，因而不会招致耻辱。相反，每个朋友都会因此而更加亲近她。对�
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Chapter Thirty-two

When the particulars of this conversation were repeated by Miss Dashwood to her sister, as they very soon were, the effect on her was not entirely such as the former had hoped to see. Not that Marianne appeared to distrust the truth of any part of it, for she listened to it all with the most steady and submissive attention, made neither objection nor remark, attempted no vindication of Willoughby, and seemed to shew by her tears that she felt it to be impossible. But though this behaviour assured Elinor that the conviction of this guilt WAS carried home to her mind, though she saw with satisfaction the effect of it, in her no longer avoiding Colonel Brandon when he called, in her speaking to him, even voluntarily speaking, with a kind of compassionate respect, and though she saw her spirits less violently irritated than before, she did not see her less wretched. Her mind did become settled, but it was settled in a gloomy dejection. She felt the loss of Willoughby's character yet more heavily than she had felt the loss of his heart; his seduction and desertion of Miss Williams, the misery of that poor girl, and the doubt of what his designs might once have been on herself, preyed altogether so much on her spirits, that she could not bring herself to speak of what she felt even to Elinor; and, brooding over her sorrows in silence, gave more pain to her sister than could have been communicated by the most open and most frequent confession of them.

To give the feelings or the language of Mrs. Dashwood on receiving and answering Elinor's letter would be only to give a repetition of what her daughters had already felt and said; of a disappointment hardly less painful than Marianne's, and an indignation even greater than Elinor's. Long letters from her, quickly succeeding each other, arrived to tell all that she suffered and thought; to express her anxious solicitude for Marianne, and entreat she would bear up with fortitude under this misfortune. Bad indeed must the nature of Marianne's affliction be, when her mother could talk of fortitude! mortifying and humiliating must be the origin of those regrets, which she could wish her not to indulge!

Against the interest of her own individual comfort, Mrs. Dashwood had determined that it would be better for Marianne to be any where, at that time, than at Barton, where every thing within her view would be bringing back the past in the strongest and most afflicting manner, by constantly placing Willoughby before her, such as she had always seen him there. She recommended it to her daughters, therefore, by all means not to shorten their visit to Mrs. Jennings; the length of which, though never exactly fixed, had been expected by all to comprise at least five or six weeks. A variety of occupations, of objects, and of company, which could not be procured at Barton, would be inevitable there, and might yet, she hoped, cheat Marianne, at times, into some interest beyond herself, and even into some amusement, much as the ideas of both might now be spurned by her.

From all danger of seeing Willoughby again, her mother considered her to be at least equally safe in town as in the country, since his acquaintance must now be dropped by all who called themselves her friends. Design could never bring them in each other's way: negligence could never leave them exposed to a surprise; and chance had less in its favour in the crowd of London than even in the retirement of Barton, where it might force him before her while paying that visit at Allenham on his marriage, which Mrs. Dashwood, from foreseeing at first as a probable event, had brought herself to expect as a certain one.

She had yet another reason for wishing her children to remain where they were; a letter from her son-in-law had told her that he and his wife were to be in town before the middle of February, and she judged it right that they should sometimes see their brother.

Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother's opinion, and she submitted to it therefore without opposition, though it proved perfectly different from what she wished and expected, though she felt it to be entirely wrong, formed on mistaken grounds, and that by requiring her longer continuance in London it deprived her of the only possible alleviation of her wretchedness, the personal sympathy of her mother, and doomed her to such society and such scenes as must prevent her ever knowing a moment's rest.

But it was a matter of great consolation to her, that what brought evil to herself would bring good to her sister; and Elinor, on the other hand, suspecting that it would not be in her power to avoid Edward entirely, comforted herself by thinking, that though their longer stay would therefore militate against her own happiness, it would be better for Marianne than an immediate return into Devonshire.

Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever hearing Willoughby's name mentioned, was not thrown away. Marianne, though without knowing it herself, reaped all its advantage; for neither Mrs. Jennings, nor Sir John, nor even Mrs. Palmer herself, ever spoke of him before her. Elinor wished that the same forbearance could have extended towards herself, but that was impossible, and she was obliged to listen day after day to the indignation of them all.

Sir John, could not have thought it possible. "A man of whom he had always had such reason to think well! Such a good-natured fellow! He did not believe there was a bolder rider in England! It was an unaccountable business. He wished him at the devil with all his heart. He would not speak another word to him, meet him where he might, for all the world! No, not if it were to be by the side of Barton covert, and they were kept watching for two hours together. Such a scoundrel of a fellow! such a deceitful dog! It was only the last time they met that he had offered him one of Folly's puppies! and this was the end of it!"

Mrs. Palmer, in her way, was equally angry. "She was determined to drop his acquaintance immediately, and she was very thankful that she had never been acquainted with him at all. She wished with all her heart Combe Magna was not so near Cleveland; but it did not signify, for it was a great deal too far off to visit; she hated him so much that she was resolved never to mention his name again, and she should tell everybody she saw, how good-for-nothing he was."

The rest of Mrs. Palmer's sympathy was shewn in procuring all the particulars in her power of the approaching marriage, and communicating them to Elinor. She could soon tell at what coachmaker's the new carriage was building, by what painter Mr. Willoughby's portrait was drawn, and at what warehouse Miss Grey's clothes might be seen.

The calm and polite unconcern of Lady Middleton on the occasion was a happy relief to Elinor's spirits, oppressed as they often were by the clamorous kindness of the others. It was a great comfort to her to be sure of exciting no interest in one person at least among their circle of friends: a great comfort to know that there was one who would meet her without feeling any curiosity after particulars, or any anxiety for her sister's health.

Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of the moment, to more than its real value; and she was sometimes worried down by officious condolence to rate good-breeding as more indispensable to comfort than good-nature.

Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about once every day, or twice, if the subject occurred very often, by saying, "It is very shocking, indeed!" and by the means of this continual though gentle vent, was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods from the first without the smallest emotion, but very soon to see them without recollecting a word of the matter; and having thus supported the dignity of her own sex, and spoken her decided censure of what was wrong in the other, she thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of her own assemblies, and therefore determined (though rather against the opinion of Sir John) that as Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of elegance and fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she married.

Colonel Brandon's delicate, unobtrusive enquiries were never unwelcome to Miss Dashwood. He had abundantly earned the privilege of intimate discussion of her sister's disappointment, by the friendly zeal with which he had endeavoured to soften it, and they always conversed with confidence. His chief reward for the painful exertion of disclosing past sorrows and present humiliations, was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her voice whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged, or could oblige herself to speak to him. THESE assured him that his exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself, and THESE gave Elinor hopes of its being farther augmented hereafter; but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who knew only that the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that she could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor commission her to make it for him, began, at the end of two days, to think that, instead of Midsummer, they would not be married till Michaelmas, and by the end of a week that it would not be a match at all. The good understanding between the Colonel and Miss Dashwood seemed rather to declare that the honours of the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would all be made over to HER; and Mrs. Jennings had, for some time ceased to think at all of Mrs. Ferrars.

Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt of Willoughby's letter, Elinor had the painful office of informing her sister that he was married. She had taken care to have the intelligence conveyed to herself, as soon as it was known that the ceremony was over, as she was desirous that Marianne should not receive the first notice of it from the public papers, which she saw her eagerly examining every morning.

She received the news with resolute composure; made no observation on it, and at first shed no tears; but after a short time they would burst out, and for the rest of the day, she was in a state hardly less pitiable than when she first learnt to expect the event.

The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were married; and Elinor now hoped, as there could be no danger of her seeing either of them, to prevail on her sister, who had never yet left the house since the blow first fell, to go out again by degrees as she had done before.

About this time the two Miss Steeles, lately arrived at their cousin's house in Bartlett's Buildings, Holburn, presented themselves again before their more grand relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets; and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality.

Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presence always gave her pain, and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of Lucy in finding her still in town.

"I should have been quite disappointed if I had not found you here still," said she repeatedly, with a strong emphasis on the word. "But I always thought I should. I was almost sure you would not leave London yet awhile; though you told me, you know, at Barton, that you should not stay above a month. But I thought, at the time, that you would most likely change your mind when it came to the point. It would have been such a great pity to have went away before your brother and sister came. And now to be sure you will be in no hurry to be gone. I am amazingly glad you did not keep to your word."

Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to use all her self-command to make it appear that she did not.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did you travel?"

"Not in the stage, I assure you," replied Miss Steele, with quick exultation; "we came post all the way, and had a very smart beau to attend us. Dr. Davies was coming to town, and so we thought we'd join him in a post-chaise; and he behaved very genteelly, and paid ten or twelve shillings more than we did."

"Oh, oh!" cried Mrs. Jennings; "very pretty, indeed! and the Doctor is a single man, I warrant you."

"There now," said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering, "everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think why. My cousins say they are sure I have made a conquest; but for my part I declare I never think about him from one hour's end to another. 'Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,' my cousin said t'other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. My beau, indeed! said I—I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine."

"Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking—but it won't do—the Doctor is the man, I see."

"No, indeed!" replied her cousin, with affected earnestness, "and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of."

Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she certainly would not, and Miss Steele was made completely happy.

"I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister, Miss Dashwood, when they come to town," said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints, to the charge.

"No, I do not think we shall."

"Oh, yes, I dare say you will."

Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition.

"What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood can spare you both for so long a time together!"

"Long a time, indeed!" interposed Mrs. Jennings. "Why, their visit is but just begun!"

Lucy was silenced.

"I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood," said Miss Steele. "I am sorry she is not well—" for Marianne had left the room on their arrival.

"You are very good. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the pleasure of seeing you; but she has been very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches, which make her unfit for company or conversation."

"Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and me!—I think she might see US; and I am sure we would not speak a word."

Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal. Her sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her dressing gown, and therefore not able to come to them.

"Oh, if that's all," cried Miss Steele, "we can just as well go and see her."

Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper; but she was saved the trouble of checking it, by Lucy's sharp reprimand, which now, as on many occasions, though it did not give much sweetness to the manners of one sister, was of advantage in governing those of the other.



　　达什伍德小姐很快就把这次谈话的详细内容讲给妹妹听了，但是效果却不完全像她期待的那样明显。看样子，玛丽安并不是怀疑其中有任何不真实的成分，因为她自始至终都在聚精会神地恭顺地听着，既不提出异议，又不发表议论，也不为威洛比进行申辩，仿佛只是用眼泪表明，她觉得这是令人难以忍受的。不过，虽然她的这一举动使埃丽诺确信她的确认识到威洛比是有罪的；虽然她满意地看到她的话生效了，布兰登上校来访时，玛丽安不再回避他了，反而跟他说话，甚至主动搭话，而且对他怀有几分同情和尊敬；虽然她发现她不像以前那样喜怒无常；但是，却不见她的沮丧情绪有所好转。她的心倒是平静下来了，但依然是那样悲观失意。她觉得，发现威洛比完全失去了人格，比失去他的心更令人难以忍受。威洛比对威廉斯小姐的勾引和遗弃，那位可怜的姑娘的悲惨遭遇，以及对他—度可能对她自己抱有不良企图的怀疑，这一切加到一起，使她内心感到极其痛苦，甚至不敢向姐姐倾诉心曲。但她把悲伤闷在心里，比明言直语地及时吐露出来，更使姐姐感到痛苦。
　　要叙说达什伍德太太在收到和回复埃丽诺来信时的心情和言语，那就只消重述一遍她的女儿们先前的心情和言语：失望的痛苦不亚于玛丽安，愤慨之心甚至胜过埃丽诺。她接二连三地写来一封封长信，告诉她们她的痛苦心情和种种想法，表示她对玛丽安的百般忧虑，恳求她在不幸之中要有坚韧不拔的精神。做母亲的都劝她要坚强，可见玛丽安悲痛到何种地步！连母亲都希望女儿不要过于悔恨，可见造成这些悔恨的事端是多么不光彩！
　　达什伍德太太置个人的慰籍于不顾，断然决定：玛丽安目前在哪里都可以，就是别回巴顿。一回巴顿，她无论见到什么，都会想起过去，时时刻刻想着过去时常与威洛比相见的情景，结果会引起极大的悲痛，因而她劝说两位女儿千万不要缩短对詹宁斯太太的访问。她们访问的期限虽然从来没有明确说定，不过大家都期待她们至少待上五六个星期。在巴顿，一切都很单调，而在詹宁斯太太那里，却必然要遇上各种各样的活动，各种各样的事物，各种各样的朋友，她希望这有时能逗得玛丽安异乎寻常地发生几分兴趣，甚至感到几分乐趣，尽管这种想法现在可能遭到她的摈弃。
　　为了避免再次遇见威洛比，她母亲认为她呆在城里至少与呆在乡下一样保险，因为凡是自称是她的朋友的那些人，现在一定都断绝了与威洛比的来往。他们决不会再有意相逢了，即使出于疏忽，也决不会不期而遇。相比之下，伦敦熙熙攘攘的，相遇的可能性更小，而巴顿由于比较僻静，说不定在他婚后乘车走访艾伦汉的时候，硬是让玛丽安撞见呢。母亲开头预见这事很有可能，后来干脆认为这是笃定无疑的。
　　她希望女儿们呆在原地不动，也还有另外一个原因：约翰·达什伍德来信说，他和妻子二月中旬以前要进城，因此她觉得还是让她们有时间见见哥哥为好。
　　玛丽安早就答应按照母亲的意见行事，于是便老老实实地服从了，尽管这意见与她期望的大相径庭。她认为，这意见是建立在错误的基础上，实属大错特错。让她在伦敦继续呆下去，那就使她失去了减轻痛苦的唯一可能性，失去了母亲的直接同情，使她注定置身于这样的环境，专跟这种人打交道，叫她一时一刻不得安宁。
　　不过，使她感到大为欣慰的是，给她带来不幸的事情，却将给姐姐带来好处。但埃丽诺呢，她分明觉得无法完全避开爱德华，心里却在这样安慰自己：虽然在这里多呆下去会妨碍她自己的幸福，但对玛丽安说来，这比马上回德文郡要好。
　　她小心翼翼地保护着妹妹，不让她听见别人提起威洛比的名字，结果她的努力没有白费。玛丽安虽说对此全然不知，却从中受益不浅；因为不论詹宁斯太太也好，约翰爵士也好，甚至帕尔默夫人也好，从未在她面前说起过威洛比。埃丽诺真巴不得他们对她自己也有这般涵养功夫，然而这是不可能的，她不得不日复一日地听着他们一个个义愤填膺地声讨威洛比。
　　约翰爵士简直不敢相信会有这种事。“一个一向被我们看得起的人！一个如此温顺的人，我还以为英国没有一个比他更勇敢的骑手！这事真叫人莫名其妙。我真心希望他滚得远远的。我说什么也不会再跟他说一句话，见一次面，无论在哪里：不，即使在巴顿树林旁边一起呆上两个小时，我也不跟他说一句话。他竟是这么一个恶棍！这么不老实的一个无赖！我们上次见面时，我还提出送他一只富利小狗呢！现在只好不了了之！”
　　帕尔默夫人以她特有的方式，同样表示很气愤。“我决计马上和他断绝来往。谢天谢地，我其实从来没有和他结交过。我真心希望库姆大厦离克利夫兰别那么近，不过这也毫无关系，因为要去走访还嫌太远了些。我恨透他了，决心永远不再提起他的名字。我要逢人就说，我看他是个饭桶。”
　　帕尔默夫人的同情还表现在，尽力搜集有关那门即将操办的婚事的详细情况，然后转告给埃丽诺。她很快就能说出，新马车在哪一家马车铺建造，威洛比的画像由哪位画师绘制，格雷小姐的衣服在哪家衣料店里可以见到。
　　埃丽诺经常被人们吵吵嚷嚷的好意关怀搅得心烦意乱，这时，唯有米德尔顿夫人不闻不问、客客气气的，倒使她心里感到一些慰籍。在这帮朋友中，她尽可肯定至少有—个人对她不感兴趣，这个人见到她既不想打听那些细枝末节，又不担心她妹妹的健康状况，这对她委实是个莫大的安慰。
　　有时，不管什么资质，都会受到当时条件的作用，而被提到不应有的高度。埃丽诺有时穷在难以忍受那种过于殷勤的劝慰，于是便认为：要安慰人，上好的教养比上好的性情更加必不可少。
　　如果这件事经常被人提起，米德尔顿夫人每天也要表示一两次看法，说上一声：“真叫人震惊！”通过这种持续而文雅的表态，她不仅看到达什伍德家两位小姐从开头起就无动于衷，而且很快发现她们也只字不再提起此事。她如此这般地维护了她们女性的尊严，毫不含糊地指责了男性的过失之后，便觉得自己可以关心一下她的聚会了，于是决定（虽说违背了约翰爵士的意愿）：既然威洛比夫人马上要成为一个高雅阔绰的女人，她要等她一结婚，就向她送去名片。
　　布兰登上校体贴而谨慎的问候从不使达什伍德小姐感到厌烦。他一心一意地想减轻她妹妹的泪丧情绪，因而充分赢得了与她亲切交谈此事的特权，两人谈起来总是那样推心置腹。他沉痛地倾吐了他自己的旧怨新耻，得到的主要根答是，玛丽安有时常同情的目光望着他，而且每当（虽然并不常见）她被迫或主动同他说话时，语气总是那样温和。这些举动使他确信，他的努力增加了玛丽安对他的好感，而且给埃丽诺带来了希望，认为这好感今后还会进一步加深。然而詹宁斯太太对此一无所知，她只晓得上校仍然像以往那样郁郁寡欢，只晓得她绝对无法劝说他亲自出面求婚，他也绝对不会委托她代为说合。因此过了两天便开始琢磨：他们在夏至前是结不了婚啦，非得到米迦勒节不可。但过了一周之后，她又在思谋：这门婚事压根儿就办不成。上校和达什伍德小姐之间的情投意合似乎表明，享受那桑树、河渠和老紫杉树荫地的艳福要让给她了。一时间，詹宁斯太太竟然把费拉斯先生忘得一干二净。
　　二月初，就在玛丽安收到威洛比来信不到两个星期，埃丽诺不得不沉痛地告诉她，威洛比结婚了。她事先作了关照，让人一知道婚事办完了，就把消息转告给她，因为她看到玛丽安每天早晨都在焦虑不安地查看报纸，她不愿让她首先从报纸上得到这个消息。
　　玛丽安听到这一消息极其镇静，没说一句话，起初也没掉眼泪。可薀妄了一会儿，她又突然哭了起来，整个后半天，一直可怜巴巴的，那副形态简直不亚于她最初听说他们要结婚时的样子。
　　威洛比夫妇一结婚就离开了城里。埃丽诺见妹妹自从刚受到打击以来一直没出过门，而现在她又没有再见到威洛比夫妇的危险，便想动员她像以前那样，再逐渐到外面走走。
　　大约在这当儿，不久前才来到霍尔本巴特利特大楼表姐妹家做客的两位斯蒂尔小姐，又一次来到康迪特街和伯克利街拜访两门较为尊贵的亲戚，受到主人十分热情的欢迎。
　　唯独埃丽诺不愿见到她们。她们一出现，总要给她带来痛苦。露西见她还在城里，不由得喜不自禁，而埃丽诺简直无法作出礼貌周全的回应。
　　“我若是没有发现你还在这里，定会大失所望，”露西反复说道，把个“还”字咬得很重。“不过我总在想，我会见到你的，我几乎可以肯定，你一时半刻不会离开伦敦。你知道，你在巴顿对我说过，你在城里呆不过—个月。但是，我当时就在想，你到时候很可能改变主意。不等你哥嫂来就走，那太遗憾啦。现在嘛，你肯定不会急于要走啦。你没信守你的诺言，真叫我又惊又喜。”
　　埃丽诺完全明白她的意思，不得不尽力克制自己，装作像是全然不理解她这番话的含意似的。
　　“喂，亲爱的，”詹宁斯太太说，“你们是怎么来的？”
　　“老实对你说吧，我们没乘公共马车，”斯蒂尔小姐马上洋洋得重地答道，“我们一路上都是乘驿车来的，有个非常漂亮的小伙于照顾我们。戴维斯博士要进城，于是我们就想同他乘驿车一道来。他还真够体面的，比我们多付了十到十二个先令。”喔哟！”詹宁斯太太渠道，“真了不起：我向你担保，他还是个单身汉呢。”你们瞧，”斯蒂尔小姐装模作样地痴笑着说道。“每个人都这么拿博士跟我开玩笑，我想不出这是为什么。我的表妹们都说，我准是把他给征服了。不过，我要当众宣布：我可不是时时刻刻都在想着他。那天，表姨看见他穿过街道朝她家里走来，便对我说：‘天哪：你的意中人来了，南希。’我说：‘我的意中人，真的吗？我想不出你指谁。博士可不是我的意中人。’”
　　“哎呀，说得好听——不过没有用——我看他就是你的情郎。”
　　“不，的确不是！表侄女装出认真的样子答道。“你要是再听人这么议论，我求你给我辟辟谣。”
　　詹宁斯太太为了投合她的心意，当即向她保证说：她当然不会辟谣。斯蒂尔小姐听了心里简直乐开了花。
　　“达什伍德小姐，你哥嫂进城后，你们想必要去和他们团聚啦，”双方影射式的斗嘴中断了一阵之后，露西又发起了攻击。
　　“不，我想我们不会的。”
　　“哦，我敢说你们会的。”
　　埃丽诺不想迎合她再争执下去。
　　“真开心呀，达什伍德太太能让你们两个离开这么长时间！”
　　“时间哪儿长了，真是的！”詹宁斯太太插嘴说道。“怎么，她们的访问才刚刚开始呢！”
　　露西给说得哑口无言。
　　“很遗憾，达什伍德小姐，我们见不到你妹妹，”斯蒂尔小姐说。“很造憾，她身体不舒服。”原来，她们一来，玛丽安便走出房去。
　　“你真客气。我妹妹错过同你们的幸会，同样会感到很遗憾，不过她近来脑神经痛得厉害，不宜于会客说话。”
　　“噢，天哪，真是遗憾！不过露西和我都是老朋友啦：我想她会见我们的。我脽蛙保不说一句话。”
　　埃丽诺非常客气地拒绝了这一建议。“我妹妹也许躺在床上，也许还穿着晨衣，因此不能来见你们。”
　　“喔，如果就是这些，”斯蒂尔小姐嚷道，“我们还是可以去看看她的。”
　　埃丽诺觉得这也太唐突无礼了，实在有点忍不住性子，不过，多亏露西厉声训斥了她姐姐一句，省得埃丽诺亲自出面制止。露西的这次训斥和在许多场合一样，虽然没给她的仪态带来多少可爱的感觉，却有效地遏制住了她姐姐的举动。 　
  
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一二三四五六七~~~
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Chapter Thirty-three

After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her sister's entreaties, and consented to go out with her and Mrs. Jennings one morning for half an hour. She expressly conditioned, however, for paying no visits, and would do no more than accompany them to Gray's in Sackville Street, where Elinor was carrying on a negotiation for the exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of her mother.

When they stopped at the door, Mrs. Jennings recollected that there was a lady at the other end of the street on whom she ought to call; and as she had no business at Gray's, it was resolved, that while her young friends transacted their's, she should pay her visit and return for them.

On ascending the stairs, the Miss Dashwoods found so many people before them in the room, that there was not a person at liberty to tend to their orders; and they were obliged to wait. All that could be done was, to sit down at that end of the counter which seemed to promise the quickest succession; one gentleman only was standing there, and it is probable that Elinor was not without hope of exciting his politeness to a quicker despatch. But the correctness of his eye, and the delicacy of his taste, proved to be beyond his politeness. He was giving orders for a toothpick-case for himself, and till its size, shape, and ornaments were determined, all of which, after examining and debating for a quarter of an hour over every toothpick-case in the shop, were finally arranged by his own inventive fancy, he had no leisure to bestow any other attention on the two ladies, than what was comprised in three or four very broad stares; a kind of notice which served to imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of strong, natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the first style of fashion.

Marianne was spared from the troublesome feelings of contempt and resentment, on this impertinent examination of their features, and on the puppyism of his manner in deciding on all the different horrors of the different toothpick-cases presented to his inspection, by remaining unconscious of it all; for she was as well able to collect her thoughts within herself, and be as ignorant of what was passing around her, in Mr. Gray's shop, as in her own bedroom.

At last the affair was decided. The ivory, the gold, and the pearls, all received their appointment, and the gentleman having named the last day on which his existence could be continued without the possession of the toothpick-case, drew on his gloves with leisurely care, and bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashwoods, but such a one as seemed rather to demand than express admiration, walked off with a happy air of real conceit and affected indifference.

Elinor lost no time in bringing her business forward, was on the point of concluding it, when another gentleman presented himself at her side. She turned her eyes towards his face, and found him with some surprise to be her brother.

Their affection and pleasure in meeting was just enough to make a very creditable appearance in Mr. Gray's shop. John Dashwood was really far from being sorry to see his sisters again; it rather gave them satisfaction; and his inquiries after their mother were respectful and attentive.

Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town two days.

"I wished very much to call upon you yesterday," said he, "but it was impossible, for we were obliged to take Harry to see the wild beasts at Exeter Exchange; and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs. Ferrars. Harry was vastly pleased. THIS morning I had fully intended to call on you, if I could possibly find a spare half hour, but one has always so much to do on first coming to town. I am come here to bespeak Fanny a seal. But tomorrow I think I shall certainly be able to call in Berkeley Street, and be introduced to your friend Mrs. Jennings. I understand she is a woman of very good fortune. And the Middletons too, you must introduce me to THEM. As my mother-in-law's relations, I shall be happy to show them every respect. They are excellent neighbours to you in the country, I understand."

"Excellent indeed. Their attention to our comfort, their friendliness in every particular, is more than I can express."

"I am extremely glad to hear it, upon my word; extremely glad indeed. But so it ought to be; they are people of large fortune, they are related to you, and every civility and accommodation that can serve to make your situation pleasant might be reasonably expected. And so you are most comfortably settled in your little cottage and want for nothing! Edward brought us a most charming account of the place: the most complete thing of its kind, he said, that ever was, and you all seemed to enjoy it beyond any thing. It was a great satisfaction to us to hear it, I assure you."

Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother; and was not sorry to be spared the necessity of answering him, by the arrival of Mrs. Jennings's servant, who came to tell her that his mistress waited for them at the door.

Mr. Dashwood attended them down stairs, was introduced to Mrs. Jennings at the door of her carriage, and repeating his hope of being able to call on them the next day, took leave.

His visit was duly paid. He came with a pretence at an apology from their sister-in-law, for not coming too; "but she was so much engaged with her mother, that really she had no leisure for going any where." Mrs. Jennings, however, assured him directly, that she should not stand upon ceremony, for they were all cousins, or something like it, and she should certainly wait on Mrs. John Dashwood very soon, and bring her sisters to see her. His manners to THEM, though calm, were perfectly kind; to Mrs. Jennings, most attentively civil; and on Colonel Brandon's coming in soon after himself, he eyed him with a curiosity which seemed to say, that he only wanted to know him to be rich, to be equally civil to HIM.

After staying with them half an hour, he asked Elinor to walk with him to Conduit Street, and introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton. The weather was remarkably fine, and she readily consented. As soon as they were out of the house, his enquiries began.

"Who is Colonel Brandon? Is he a man of fortune?"

"Yes; he has very good property in Dorsetshire."

"I am glad of it. He seems a most gentlemanlike man; and I think, Elinor, I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment in life."

"Me, brother! what do you mean?"

"He likes you. I observed him narrowly, and am convinced of it. What is the amount of his fortune?"

"I believe about two thousand a year."

"Two thousand a-year;" and then working himself up to a pitch of enthusiastic generosity, he added, "Elinor, I wish with all my heart it were TWICE as much, for your sake."

"Indeed I believe you," replied Elinor; "but I am very sure that Colonel Brandon has not the smallest wish of marrying ME."

"You are mistaken, Elinor; you are very much mistaken. A very little trouble on your side secures him. Perhaps just at present he may be undecided; the smallness of your fortune may make him hang back; his friends may all advise him against it. But some of those little attentions and encouragements which ladies can so easily give will fix him, in spite of himself. And there can be no reason why you should not try for him. It is not to be supposed that any prior attachment on your side—in short, you know as to an attachment of that kind, it is quite out of the question, the objections are insurmountable—you have too much sense not to see all that. Colonel Brandon must be the man; and no civility shall be wanting on my part to make him pleased with you and your family. It is a match that must give universal satisfaction. In short, it is a kind of thing that"—lowering his voice to an important whisper—"will be exceedingly welcome to ALL PARTIES." Recollecting himself, however, he added, "That is, I mean to say—your friends are all truly anxious to see you well settled; Fanny particularly, for she has your interest very much at heart, I assure you. And her mother too, Mrs. Ferrars, a very good-natured woman, I am sure it would give her great pleasure; she said as much the other day."

Elinor would not vouchsafe any answer.

"It would be something remarkable, now," he continued, "something droll, if Fanny should have a brother and I a sister settling at the same time. And yet it is not very unlikely."

"Is Mr. Edward Ferrars," said Elinor, with resolution, "going to be married?"

"It is not actually settled, but there is such a thing in agitation. He has a most excellent mother. Mrs. Ferrars, with the utmost liberality, will come forward, and settle on him a thousand a year, if the match takes place. The lady is the Hon. Miss Morton, only daughter of the late Lord Morton, with thirty thousand pounds. A very desirable connection on both sides, and I have not a doubt of its taking place in time. A thousand a-year is a great deal for a mother to give away, to make over for ever; but Mrs. Ferrars has a noble spirit. To give you another instance of her liberality:—The other day, as soon as we came to town, aware that money could not be very plenty with us just now, she put bank-notes into Fanny's hands to the amount of two hundred pounds. And extremely acceptable it is, for we must live at a great expense while we are here."

He paused for her assent and compassion; and she forced herself to say,

"Your expenses both in town and country must certainly be considerable; but your income is a large one."

"Not so large, I dare say, as many people suppose. I do not mean to complain, however; it is undoubtedly a comfortable one, and I hope will in time be better. The enclosure of Norland Common, now carrying on, is a most serious drain. And then I have made a little purchase within this half year; East Kingham Farm, you must remember the place, where old Gibson used to live. The land was so very desirable for me in every respect, so immediately adjoining my own property, that I felt it my duty to buy it. I could not have answered it to my conscience to let it fall into any other hands. A man must pay for his convenience; and it HAS cost me a vast deal of money."

"More than you think it really and intrinsically worth."

"Why, I hope not that. I might have sold it again, the next day, for more than I gave: but, with regard to the purchase-money, I might have been very unfortunate indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low, that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum in my banker's hands, I must have sold out to very great loss."

Elinor could only smile.

"Other great and inevitable expenses too we have had on first coming to Norland. Our respected father, as you well know, bequeathed all the Stanhill effects that remained at Norland (and very valuable they were) to your mother. Far be it from me to repine at his doing so; he had an undoubted right to dispose of his own property as he chose, but, in consequence of it, we have been obliged to make large purchases of linen, china, &c. to supply the place of what was taken away. You may guess, after all these expenses, how very far we must be from being rich, and how acceptable Mrs. Ferrars's kindness is."

"Certainly," said Elinor; "and assisted by her liberality, I hope you may yet live to be in easy circumstances."

"Another year or two may do much towards it," he gravely replied; "but however there is still a great deal to be done. There is not a stone laid of Fanny's green-house, and nothing but the plan of the flower-garden marked out."

"Where is the green-house to be?"

"Upon the knoll behind the house. The old walnut trees are all come down to make room for it. It will be a very fine object from many parts of the park, and the flower-garden will slope down just before it, and be exceedingly pretty. We have cleared away all the old thorns that grew in patches over the brow."

Elinor kept her concern and her censure to herself; and was very thankful that Marianne was not present, to share the provocation.

Having now said enough to make his poverty clear, and to do away the necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings for each of his sisters, in his next visit at Gray's his thoughts took a cheerfuller turn, and he began to congratulate Elinor on having such a friend as Mrs. Jennings.

"She seems a most valuable woman indeed—Her house, her style of living, all bespeak an exceeding good income; and it is an acquaintance that has not only been of great use to you hitherto, but in the end may prove materially advantageous.—Her inviting you to town is certainly a vast thing in your favour; and indeed, it speaks altogether so great a regard for you, that in all probability when she dies you will not be forgotten.— She must have a great deal to leave."

"Nothing at all, I should rather suppose; for she has only her jointure, which will descend to her children."

"But it is not to be imagined that she lives up to her income. Few people of common prudence will do THAT; and whatever she saves, she will be able to dispose of."

"And do you not think it more likely that she should leave it to her daughters, than to us?"

"Her daughters are both exceedingly well married, and therefore I cannot perceive the necessity of her remembering them farther. Whereas, in my opinion, by her taking so much notice of you, and treating you in this kind of way, she has given you a sort of claim on her future consideration, which a conscientious woman would not disregard. Nothing can be kinder than her behaviour; and she can hardly do all this, without being aware of the expectation it raises."

"But she raises none in those most concerned. Indeed, brother, your anxiety for our welfare and prosperity carries you too far."

"Why, to be sure," said he, seeming to recollect himself, "people have little, have very little in their power. But, my dear Elinor, what is the matter with Marianne?— she looks very unwell, has lost her colour, and is grown quite thin. Is she ill?"

"She is not well, she has had a nervous complaint on her for several weeks."

"I am sorry for that. At her time of life, any thing of an illness destroys the bloom for ever! Her's has been a very short one! She was as handsome a girl last September, as I ever saw; and as likely to attract the man. There was something in her style of beauty, to please them particularly. I remember Fanny used to say that she would marry sooner and better than you did; not but what she is exceedingly fond of you, but so it happened to strike her. She will be mistaken, however. I question whether Marianne now, will marry a man worth more than five or six hundred a-year, at the utmost, and I am very much deceived if you do not do better. Dorsetshire! I know very little of Dorsetshire; but, my dear Elinor, I shall be exceedingly glad to know more of it; and I think I can answer for your having Fanny and myself among the earliest and best pleased of your visitors."

Elinor tried very seriously to convince him that there was no likelihood of her marrying Colonel Brandon; but it was an expectation of too much pleasure to himself to be relinquished, and he was really resolved on seeking an intimacy with that gentleman, and promoting the marriage by every possible attention. He had just compunction enough for having done nothing for his sisters himself, to be exceedingly anxious that everybody else should do a great deal; and an offer from Colonel Brandon, or a legacy from Mrs. Jennings, was the easiest means of atoning for his own neglect.

They were lucky enough to find Lady Middleton at home, and Sir John came in before their visit ended. Abundance of civilities passed on all sides. Sir John was ready to like anybody, and though Mr. Dashwood did not seem to know much about horses, he soon set him down as a very good-natured fellow: while Lady Middleton saw enough of fashion in his appearance to think his acquaintance worth having; and Mr. Dashwood went away delighted with both.

"I shall have a charming account to carry to Fanny," said he, as he walked back with his sister. "Lady Middleton is really a most elegant woman! Such a woman as I am sure Fanny will be glad to know. And Mrs. Jennings too, an exceedingly well-behaved woman, though not so elegant as her daughter. Your sister need not have any scruple even of visiting her, which, to say the truth, has been a little the case, and very naturally; for we only knew that Mrs. Jennings was the widow of a man who had got all his money in a low way; and Fanny and Mrs. Ferrars were both strongly prepossessed, that neither she nor her daughters were such kind of women as Fanny would like to associate with. But now I can carry her a most satisfactory account of both."



　　玛丽安执拗了一阵之后，还是向姐姐的一再恳求屈从了，同意陪她和詹宁斯太太上午出去溜达半个小时。不过，她规定了明确的条件：不准走亲访友，而且顶多陪她们走到塞克维尔街格雷商店，因为埃丽诺正在同店家洽谈，想替母亲交换几件旧式珠宝。
　　大家来到店门口，詹宁斯太太想起街那头有位太太，她应该去拜访一下。因为她到格雷商店无事可办，于是双方说定，趁两位年轻朋友办事的工夫，她去串个门，然后再回来找她们。
　　两位达什伍德小姐上楼梯时，只见有不少人早来了，店里没人顾得上应酬她们，于是只好等候。最好的办法是坐到柜台一端，看来这样可能轮起来最快。这里只站着一位先生，埃丽诺大有希望让他讲点礼貌，办事利索点。谁知这人特别挑剔，也很有眼力，顾不上讲究礼貌。他要订购一只牙签盒，为了确定大小、式样和图案，他把店里的所有牙签盒都拿来端详、盘算，每只都要磨蹭半个钟头，最后凭着他那神奇的想象力终于定了下来。在此期间，他无暇顾及两位小姐，只是粗略地瞟了她们三四眼。不过他这一回顾，倒使他那副外貌和嘴脸深深铭刻在埃丽诺的脑海里：他纵使打扮得时鬓绝顶，也只不过是个愚昧、好强、不折不扣的卑微小人。
　　玛丽安倒免于产生这种令人烦恼的轻蔑憎恶之感，那人傲慢无礼地打量她俩的面庞也好，神态自负地鉴定送他查看的种种牙签盒的种种缺陷也好，她都不曾觉察。因为她在格雷商店和在自己卧室里一样，总是聚精会神地想心思，对周围发生的事情全然不师。
　　最后，事情终于定下来了，连上面的牙饰、金饰、珠饰都做了规定。那人又定了个日期，好像到那天拿不到牙签盒，他就活不下去似的。他从容小心地戴上手套，又向两位达什伍德小姐瞟了一眼，不过这一瞥似乎不是表示艳羡对方，而是想让对方艳羡自己。接着，他故意摆出一副傲气十足、悄然自得的架势走开了。
　　埃丽诺赶忙提出了自己的买卖，正要成交的时候，又有一个男子出现在她身旁。她转眼朝他脸部望去，意外地发现，原来是她哥哥。
　　他们见面时的那个喜幸亲热劲儿，在倍雷商店里看上去还真像回事儿似的。约翰．达什伍德能再见到妹妹，确实一点也不感到遗憾。相反，大家都很高兴。他对母亲的问候薀艇敬的，关切的。
　　埃丽诺发现，他和范妮进城两天了。
　　“我昨天就很想去拜望你们，”他说，“可是去不了，因为我们得带着哈里去埃克塞特交易场看野兽，剩下的时间就陪陪费拉斯太太。哈里高兴极了。今天早晨哪怕能有半小时的空闲工夫，我也决计要来看望你们的，哪知人刚进城，总有一大堆事情要办！我来这里给范妮订一枚图章。不过，我想明天一定能去伯克利街，拜见一下你们的朋友詹宁斯太太。我听说，她是个十分有钱的女人。米德尔顿夫妇也很有钱，你一定要把我引见给她们。他们既然是我继母的亲戚，我很乐于表示我对他们的万般敬意。我听说，他们是你们的好乡邻。”
　　“的确是好。他脽拓心我们的安适，处处友好相待，好得我无法形容。”
　　“说老实活，听你这么说，我高兴极啦，实在是高兴极啦。不过，这是理所当然的，他们都是有钱入，和你们又沾亲带故的，按理是该对你们客客气气的，提供种种方便，使得你脽妄得舒舒适适。这么一来，你们住在小乡舍里过得非常舒适，什么都不缺。有关那房子，爱德华向我们做过引人入胜的描绘。他说，在同类房子中，它是历来最完美无缺的了，还说你们好像喜欢得不得了。说实话，我们听了也大为高兴。”
　　埃丽诺有点替她哥哥感到羞耻，因而当詹宁斯太太的仆人跑来报告太太已在门口等候，省得她再回哥哥的话时，她一点也不感到遗憾。
　　达什伍德先生陪着她俩下了楼，来到詹宁斯太太的马车门口，被介绍给这位太太。他再次表示，希望第二天能去拜访她们，说罢告辞而去。
　　他如期来拜访了，而且还为她们的嫂嫂未能一同前来，假意道歉一番：“她要陪伴她母亲，确实没有工夫走开。”不过，詹宁斯太太当即让他放心，叫做嫂嫂的不用客气，因为她们也都算得上是表亲嘛。她还说，她一定尽快去拜访约翰．达什伍德夫人，带着她的小姑去看望她。约翰对妹妹虽然处之泰然，却也十分客气，而对詹宁斯太太，尤为必恭必敬，礼貌周全。他进屋不久，布兰登上校也接踵而来。约翰好奇地打量着他，好像在说：他只消知道他是个有钱人，对他也会同样客客气气的。
　　在这里逗留了半个小时之后，约翰让埃丽诺陪他走到康迪特街，把他介绍给约翰爵士和米德尔顿夫人。那天天气异常之好，埃丽诺便欣然同意了。两人一走出屋，约翰便张口询问开了。
　　“布兰登上校是谁？他是个有钱人吗？”
　　“是的，他在多塞特郡有一大笔资产。”
　　“我听了很高兴，他看上去是个极有绅士风度的人。埃丽诺，我想我该恭喜你，你这一辈子可以指望有个十分体面的归宿了。”
　　“我？哥哥——你这是什么意思？”
　　“他喜欢你。我仔细观察过他，对此确信不疑。他有多少财产？”
　　“我想一年大约两千镑。”
　　“一年两千镑。”他说着，心里激起一股热烈慷慨的豪情，接下去说道：“埃丽诺，看在你的份上，我真心希望他有两倍这么多。”
　　“我的确相信你的话，”埃丽诺答道，“但是我敢肯定，布兰登上校丝毫没有想娶我的意思。”
　　“你搞错了，埃丽诺，大错特错了。你只要略作努力，就能把他抓到手。也许他目前会犹豫不决，你的那点微薄的财产会使他畏缩不前。他的朋友们还会从中作梗。不过，稍稍献点殷勤，略微加以引逗，就能让他不由自主地就范，这在女人是很容易做到的。你没有什么理由不去争取他。不要以为你以前的那种恋爱——总而言之，你知道那种恋爱是绝对不可能了，你有着不可逾越的障碍——你是个有理性的人，不会不明白这个道理。布兰登上校蛮不错啦，我一定对他客客气气的，让他对你和你的家庭感到满意。这真是一门皆大欢喜的亲事。总而言之，”——他压低声音，神气活现地悄悄说道——“这一定会受到各方面的热烈欢迎。”接着又想起了什么，，补充说：“我的意思是——你的朋友们都真诚渴望你能找个好人家，特别是范妮，老实说，她十分关心你的事。还有她母亲费拉斯太太，是个非常温厚的女人，我想她肯定会感到十分高兴的。她前几天就这么说过。”
　　埃丽诺不屑一答。
　　“倘若范妮有个弟弟、我有个妹妹能在同时解决终身大事，”约翰继续说道，“那真是件了不起的事情，妙不可言的事情。然而，这也并非绝对不可能啊。”
　　“爱德华．费拉斯先生要结婚啦？”埃丽诺果断地问道。
　　“还没真正定下来，不过正在筹划这件事。他有个极好的母亲。费拉斯太太极其慷慨，如果婚事办成了，她将主动提出，一年给他一千镑。女方是尊贵的莫顿小姐，是已故莫顿勋爵的独生女，有三万镑财产———这门亲事双方都很称心如意，我毫不怀疑婚事会如期操办。一年一千镑，一个做母亲的能给这么一大笔钱，而且要给一辈子；不过费拉斯太太具有崇高的精神。再给你说个她为人慷慨大方的例子。那天，我们刚一进城，她知道我们手头一时不很宽裕，就往范妮手里塞了二百镑钞票。真是求之不得呀，因为我们在这几的花销一定很大。”
　　他顿了顿，想听埃丽诺说句赞同和同情的话；不想她勉强说道：
　　“你们在城里和乡下的花销肯定都相当可观，但是你们的收入也很高啊。”
　　“我说呀，可不像许多人想象的那么高。不过，我倒不想叹穷叫苦。我们的收入无疑是相当不错的，我希望有朝一日会更上一层楼。正在进行的诺兰公地的圈地耗资巨大。另外，我这半年里还置了点地产——东金汉农场，你一定记得这地方，老吉布森以前住在这里。这块地无论从哪个方面来看，对我都十分理想，紧挨着我自己的房地产，因此我觉得我有义务把它买下来。假如让它落到别人手里，我将会受到良心的责备。人要为自己的便利付出代价，我已经花费了一笔巨款。”
　　“你是不是认为实在值不了那么多钱？”
　　“噢，我希望并非如此。我买后的第二天本来可以再卖掉的，还能赚钱。可是说起买价，我倒可能真是很不幸，因为当时股票的价值很低，我若不是碰巧把这笔必要的钱存在我的银行家手里，那我就得大蚀其本卖掉全部股票。”
　　埃丽诺只能付之一笑。
　　“我们刚到诺兰庄园时，还难免要有一些别的大笔开支。你很清楚，我们敬爱的父亲把保留在诺兰庄园的斯坦希尔的财产（这些财产还很值钱呢），全部送给了你母亲。我决不是埋怨他不该这么做。他毋庸置疑有权随意处理自己的财产。不过，这样一来，我们不得不购置大量的亚麻织品、瓷器之类的东西，用来弥补家里被取走的那些玩艺。你可以猜想到，这番开销之后，我们一定是大伤元气，费拉斯太太的恩赐真是求之不得。”
　　“的确是那样，”埃丽诺说道。“你们得到她的慷慨资助，希望你们能过上优裕的生活。”
　　“再过一两年可能差不多了，”约翰一本正经地答道。“不过现在还差得远。范妮的温室一块石头也没砌，花园只不过才画出个图样。”
　　“温室建在哪儿？”
　　“屋后的小山上。为了腾地方，那些老核桃树全给砍掉了。这座温室从庄园的每个部位看去都很漂亮，花园就在温室前面的斜坡上，漂亮极了。我们已经清除了山顶上的荆棘丛。”
　　埃丽诺把忧虑和责难闷在心里，使她感到欣慰的是，幸亏玛丽安不在场，省得和她一起受这窝囊气。
　　达什伍德先生哭穷哭够了，下次再去格雷商店也用不着给她妹妹一人买一副耳环，心里不禁又变得快活起来，便转而恭喜埃丽诺能有詹宁斯太太这样一位朋友。
　　“她确实是个非常富有的妇女。她的住宅和生活派头都表明她有极高的收入，有这么个熟人不光目前对你大有好处，最终还可能给你带来鸿福呢。她邀请你到城里来，这当然是赏给你的很大面子，确实表明她非常器重你，她去世的时候，十有八九忘不了你。她一定会留下一大笔遗产。”
　　“我看什么也不会有，她只有点寡妇所得产，将来要传给她的女儿。”
　　“那你很难想象她会进多少花多少。只要是注意节俭的人，谁也不会那样干。而她积攒下来的钱，总得想法处理掉吧。”
　　“那么，你难道不认为她可能宁肯留给她女儿，而不留给我们吗?”
　　“她两个女儿都嫁给了大富大贵人家，我看她没有必要再给她们遗产。我倒是觉得，她这么赏识你们，如此这般地厚待你们，那她将来就应该考虑到你们的正当要求，对于一个谨慎的女人来说，这是忽略不得的。她心地最善良不过了，她的这一切举动会惹人产生期望，这她不可能不知道。”
　　“不过，她还没有惹得那些切身有关的人产生期望呢。说真的，哥哥，你为我们的安乐幸福操心，也操得太远了。”
　　“噢，当然如此，”约翰说，仿佛想镇定一下，“人的能力是有限的，非常有限。不过，亲爱的埃丽诺，玛丽安怎么啦？她看样子很不舒服，脸色苍白，人也变得非常消瘦。她是不是有病啊？”
　　“她是不舒服，最近几个星期老说神经痛。”
　　“真不幸。在她这个年纪，不管生一场什么病，都会永远毁掉青春的娇艳！她的青春太短暂了！去年九月，她还和我见过的任何女人一样漂亮，一样惹男人动心。她的美貌有一种特别讨男人喜爱的姿质。我记得范妮过去常说，她要比你早结婚，而且对象也比你的好。其实她是极其喜欢你的——她只是偶尔产生了这么个念头。不过，她想错了。我怀疑，玛丽安现在是不是能嫁给一个每年充其量不过五六百镑的男人。你要是不超过她，那才怪呢。多塞特郡！我对多塞特郡不很了解，不过，亲爱的埃丽诺，我极其乐于多了解了解它。我想你一定会允许范妮和我成为你们第一批、也是最幸运的客人。”
　　埃丽诺非常严肃地对他说，她不可能嫁给布兰登上校。然而，他一心期待这门亲事能给他带来无比巨大的喜悦，因而不肯善罢甘休。他打定主意，千方百计地密切同那位先生的关系，尽心竭力地促成这门婚事。他对妹妹一向没有尽过力，感到有点歉疚，因此便渴望别人能多出点力。让布兰登上校向她求婚，或者让詹宁斯太太给她留下一笔遗产，将是他弥补自己过失的最简便的途径。
　　他们还算幸运，正好赶上米德尔顿夫人在家，约翰爵士也在他们访问结束之前回到家里。大家都很有礼貌。约翰爵士随便对谁都很喜爱，达什伍德先生虽说不善于识人，但很快就把他看作一个厚道人。米德尔顿夫人见他仪表堂堂，便也觉得他很值得结识。达什伍德先生告辞时，对这两人都很中意。
　　“我要向范妮报告一下这次美好的会见，”他和妹妹一边往回走，一边说道。“米德尔顿夫人确实是个极其娴雅的女人！我知道范妮就喜欢结识这样的女人。还有詹宁斯太太，她是个极懂规矩的女人，虽然不像她女儿那样娴雅。你嫂嫂甚至可以毫无顾忌地来拜访她。说老实话，她原来有点顾忌，这是很自然的。因为我们先前只知道詹宁斯太太是个寡妇，她丈夫靠卑劣的手段发了财，于是范妮和费拉斯太太便抱有强烈的偏见，认为她和她女儿都不是范妮应该与之交往的那种女人。现在，我要回去向她好好地美言一番。” 　
  
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Chapter Thirty-four

Mrs. 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 demeanor, 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 mutual impatience 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 honorably distinguished; and Miss Steele wanted only to be teazed about Dr. Davies 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, politely decided 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 dose 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 philippic, "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."



　　约翰．达什伍德夫人非常相信她丈夫的眼力，第二天就去拜访詹宁斯太太和她的女儿。她没有白相信她丈夫，因为她甚至发现前者，也就是她两位小姑与之呆在一起的那位太太，决非不值得亲近。至于米德尔顿夫人，她觉得她是天下最迷人的一位女人。
　　米德尔顿夫人同样喜欢达什伍德夫人。这两人都有点冷漠自私，这就促使她们相互吸引。她们的举止得体而乏趣，她们的智力总的来说比较贫乏，这就促使她们同病相怜。
　　不过，约翰．达什伍德夫人的这般举止虽说博得了米德尔顿夫人的欢心，却不能使詹宁斯太太感到称心如意。在她看来，她不过是个言谈冷漠、神气傲慢的小女人，见到她丈夫的妹妹毫无亲切之感，几乎连句话都不跟她们说。她在伯克利街逗留了一刻钟，其中至少有七分半钟坐在那里默不作声。
　　埃丽诺虽然嘴里不想问，心里却很想知道爱德华当时在不在城里。但是，范妮说什么也不肯随意当着埃丽诺的面提起他的名字，除非她能够告诉埃丽诺：爱德华和莫顿小姐的婚事已经谈妥，或者除非她丈夫对布兰登上校的期望已付诸实现。因为她相信爱德华与埃丽诺之间仍然感情很深，需要随时随地促使他们在言行上尽量保持隔阂。然而，她不肯提供的消息，倒从另一来源得到了。过不多久，露西跑来，希望赢得埃丽诺的同情，因为爱德华和达什伍德夫妇一道来到城里，但她却见不到他。爱德华不敢去巴特利特大搂，唯恐被人发现。虽然两人说不出多么急于相见，但目前只能无可奈何地通通信。
　　时隔不久，爱德华本人两次亲临伯克利街，证明他确实就在城里。有两次，她们上午出去践约回来，发现他的名片摆在桌上。埃丽诺对他的来访感到高兴，而且对自己没有见到他感到更加高兴。
　　达什伍德夫妇极其喜爱米德尔顿夫妇，他们虽说素来没有请客的习惯，但还是决定举行一次晚宴，于是大家刚认识不久，便邀请他们到哈利街吃饭。他们在这里租了一栋上好的房子，为期三个月。他们还邀请了两个妹妹和詹宁斯太太，约翰．达什伍德又特意拉上布兰登上校。布兰登上校总是乐于同达什伍德家小姐呆在一起，受到这番热切邀请，不免感到几分惊奇，但更多的是感到欣喜。席间将见到费拉斯太太，但埃丽诺搞不清楚她的两位儿子是否也会在场。不过，一想到能见到费拉斯太太，倒使她对这次宴会发生了兴趣；因为虽说她现在不像以前那样，需要带着焦灼不安的心情去拜见爱德华的母亲，虽然她现在可以抱着全然无所谓的态度去见她，毫不在乎她对自己的看法，但是她仍然一如既往地渴望结识一下费拉斯太太，了解一下她是什么样的人。
　　此后不久，她听说两位斯蒂尔小姐也要参加这次宴会，尽管心里不很高兴，可是期待赴宴的兴致却骤然大增。
　　米德尔顿夫人十分喜爱两位斯蒂尔小姐，她们对她百般殷勤，博得了她的极大欢心。虽说露西确实不够娴雅，她姐姐甚至还不斯文，可她还是像约翰爵士一样，立刻要求她们在康迪特街住上一两个星期。事有凑巧，这样做对斯蒂尔妹妹特别方便，因为后来从达什伍德夫妇的请柬中得知，她俩要在设宴的前几天就去作客。
　　这姊妹俩之所以能在约翰．达什伍德夫人的宴席上赢得两个席位，倒不是因为她们是曾经关照过她弟弟多年的那位先生的外甥女，而是因为她们作为米德尔顿夫人的客人，必须同样受到欢迎。露西很久以来就想亲自结识一下这家人，仔细观察一下他们的人品和她自己的困难所在，并且趁机尽力讨好他们一番，如今一接到约翰．达什伍德夫人的请帖，简直有生以来从没这么高兴过。
　　埃丽诺的反应截然不同。她当即断定，爱德华既然和他母亲住在一起，那就一定会像他母亲一样，应邀参加他姐姐的晚宴，发生了这一切之后，头一次和露西一起去见爱德华！——她简直不知道她如何忍受得了！
　　她的这些忧虑并非完全建立在理智的基础上，当然也根本不是建立在实事求是的基础上。不过她后来还是消除了忧虑，这倒不是因为她自己镇静下来了，而是多亏露西的一番好意。原来，露西满以为会让埃丽诺大失所望，便告诉她爱德华星期二肯定不会去哈利街。她甚至还想进一步加深她的痛苦，便又对她说：“他之所以避而不来，就是因为他爱她爱得太深了，怕碰到一起隐匿不住。”
　　至关紧要的星期二来临了，两位年轻小姐就要见到那位令人望而生畏的婆母啦。
　　“可怜可怜我吧，亲爱的达什伍德小姐！”大家一起上楼时，露西说道——原来詹宁斯太太一到，米德尔顿夫妇也接跟而来，于是大家同时跟着仆人朝楼上走去。“这里只有你能同情我。我告诉你吧，我简直站不住啦。天哪!我马上就要见到能决定我终身幸福的那个人了一—我未来的婆婆!”
　　埃丽诺本来可以提醒她一句：她们就要见到的可能是莫顿小姐的婆婆，而不是她露西的婆婆，从而立即解除她的紧张心理，但她没有这么做，只是情真意切地对她说，她的确同情她。这使露西大为惊奇，因为她虽说很不自在，却至少希望自己是埃丽诺妒羡不已的对象。
　　费拉斯太太是个瘦小的女人，身板笔直，甚至达到拘谨的程度；仪态端庄，甚至达到迂腐的地步。她脸色灰黄，小鼻子小眼，一点也不俏丽，自然也毫无表情。不过，她眉头一皱，给面部增添了傲慢和暴戾的强烈色彩，因而使她有幸免于落得一个面部表情单调乏味的恶名。她是个话语不多的女入，因为她和一般人不同，总是有多少想法说多少话。而就在情不自禁地说出的片言只语里，没有一丁点是说给达什伍德小姐听的，她对她算是铁了心啦，说什么也不会喜欢她。
　　现在，这种态度并不会给埃丽诺带来不快。几个月以前，她还会感到痛苦不堪，可是事到如今，费拉斯太太己经没有能力让她苦恼了。她对两位斯蒂尔小姐通然不同的态度——这似乎是在有意地进一步贬抑她——只能使她觉得十分滑稽。她看到她们母女二人对同一个人亲切谦和的样于，不禁感到好笑—一因为露西变得特别尊贵起来——其实，她们若是像她一样了解她，那她们一定会迫不及待地羞辱她。而她自己呢，虽然相对来说不可能给她们带来危害，却遭到了她们两人毫不掩饰的冷落。但是，当她冷笑那母女俩乱献殷勤的时候，她怀疑这是由卑鄙而愚蠢的动机造成的。她还看到斯蒂尔姐妹也在蓄意大献殷勤，使这种局面得以继续下去，于是，她不由地对她们四个人鄙视极了。
　　露西被如此尊为贵宾，禁不住欣喜若狂。而斯蒂尔小姐只要别人拿她和戴维斯博士开开玩笑，便也感到喜不自胜。
　　酒席办得非常丰盛，仆人多得不计其数，一切都表明女主人有心要炫耀一番，而男主人也有能力供她炫耀。尽管诺兰庄园正在进行改修和扩建，尽管庄园的主人一度只要再缺几千镑就得蚀本卖空，但是却看不到他试图由此而使人推论出他贫穷的迹象。在这里没有出现别的贫乏，只有谈话是贫乏的——而谈话确实相当贫乏。约翰．达什伍德自己没有多少值得一听的话要说，他夫人要说的就更少。不过这也没有什么特别不光彩的，因为他们的大多数客人也是如此。他们由于没有条件让人感到愉快而几乎伤透了脑筋——他们有的缺乏理智（包括先天的和后天的），有的缺乏雅趣，有的缺乏兴致，有的缺乏气质。
　　女士们吃完饭回到客厅时，这种贫乏表现得尤其明显，因为男士们先前还变换花样提供一点谈话资料——什么政治啦，圈地啦，驯马啦——可是现在这一切都谈完了，直到咖啡端进来为止，太太小姐们一直在谈论着一个话题：年龄相仿的哈里·达什伍德和米德尔顿夫人的老二威廉究竟谁高谁矮。
　　假如两个孩子都在那里，问题倒也很容易解决，马上量一下就能分出高矮，但只有哈里在场，双方只好全靠猜测和推断。不过，每人都有权利发表明确的看法，而且可以再三再四的，爱怎么重复就怎么重复。
　　各人的观点如下：
　　两位母亲虽然都深信自己的儿子高，但是为了礼貌起见，还是断言对方高。
　　两位外祖母虽然和做母亲的一样偏心，但是却比她们来得坦率，都在一个劲地说自己的外孙高。
　　露西一心想取悦两位母亲，认为两个孩子年龄虽小，个子却都高得出奇，她看不出有丝毫差别。斯蒂尔小姐还要老练，伶牙俐齿地把两个孩子都美言了一香。
　　埃丽诺先前曾发表过看法，认为还是威廉高些，结果得罪了费拉斯太太，也更得罪了范妮，现在觉得没有必要再去硬性表态。玛丽安听说让她表态，便当众宣布：她从未考聼妄这个问题，说不出有什么看法，因而惹得大家都不快活。
　　埃丽诺离开诺兰之前，曾给嫂嫂绘制了一对非常漂亮的画屏，这画屏送去裱褙刚刚取回家，就摆放在嫂嫂现在的客厅里。约翰．达什伍德跟着男宾们走进来一眼瞧见了这对画屏，便殷勤备至地递给布兰登上校欣赏。
　　“这是我大妹妹的画作，”他说。“你是个很有鉴赏力的人，肯定会喜欢这两幅画儿。我不知道你以前有没有见过她的作品，不过人们普遍认为她画得极其出色。”
　　上校虽然矢口否认自己很有些赏力，但是一见到这两幅画屏，就像见到达什伍德小姐别的画作一祥，大为赞赏。当然，这些画屏也引起了其他人的好奇心，于是大家便争相传看。费拉斯太太不知道这是埃丽诺的作品，特意要求拿来看看。待米德尔顿夫人令人满意地赞赏过之后，范妮便把它递给了她的母亲，同时好心好意地告诉她，这是达什伍德小姐画的。
　　“哼”——费拉斯太太说——“挺漂亮”——连看都不看一眼，便又递还给她女儿。
　　也许范妮当时觉得母亲太鲁莽了，只见她脸上稍稍泛红，然后马上说道：
　　“这画屏很漂亮，是吧，母亲？”但是另一方面，她大概又担心自己过于客气，过于推崇，便当即补充说道：
　　“母亲，你不觉得这画有点像莫顿小姐的绘画风格吗？她确实画得好极了。她最后一幅风景画画得多美啊！”
　　“的确画得美。不过她样样事情都干得好。”
　　这真叫玛丽安忍无可忍。她早已对费拉斯太太大为不满了，再一听她这么不合时宜地赞赏另一个人，贬低埃丽诺，她虽说不晓得对方有什么主要意图，却顿时冒火了，只听她气冲冲地说道：
　　“我们在赞赏一种异乎寻常的绘画艺术！莫顿小姐算老几？谁晓得她？谁稀罕她？我们考虑和谈论的是埃丽诺。”
　　说着，她从嫂子手里夺过画屏，煞有介事地赞赏起来。
　　费拉斯太太看上去气急败坏，她的身子比以往挺得更直了，恶狠狠地反驳说：“莫顿小姐是莫顿勋爵的女儿。”
　　范妮看样子也很气愤，而她丈夫却被他妹妹的胆大妄为吓了一跳。玛丽安的发火给埃丽诺造成了更大的痛苦，刚才耳闻目睹那些导致玛丽安发作的事情，她还没有这么痛苦呢。不过布兰登上校一直拿眼睛盯着玛丽安，他的目光表明，他只注意到事情好的一面：玛丽安有颗火热的心，使她无法容忍自己的姐姐受到丝毫的轻蔑。
　　玛丽安的愤激没有到此为止。费拉斯太太如此冷酷无情、蛮横无礼地对待她姐姐，使她感到震惊和痛心，她似乎觉得，费拉斯太太的整个态度预示着埃丽诺的多灾多难。转眼间，她在一股深情厚意的强烈驱使下，走到姐姐的坐椅前，一只手臂搂住她的脖子，脸腮紧贴着她的脸，声音低微而急切地说道：
　　“我最最亲爱的埃丽诺，不要介意。不要让她们搞得你不高兴。”
　　她再也说不下去了，实在顶不住了，便一头扑到埃丽诺肩上，哇的一声哭了起来。她的哭声引起了每个人的注意，而且几乎引起了每个人的关切。布兰登上校立起身，不由自主地朝她们走去。詹宁斯太太十分机灵地喊了声：“啊！可怜的宝贝，”当即拿出她的嗅盐让她闻。约翰爵士对这场精神痛苦的肇事人极为愤慨，他马上换了个位置，坐到露西．斯蒂尔小姐身旁，把这起骇人听闻的事情低声对她简要叙说了一番。
　　几分钟之后，玛丽安恢复了正常，这场骚动便告结束，她又坐到众人当中。不过整个晚上出了这些事，她情绪总是受到了影响。
　　“可怜的玛丽安：”她哥哥一抓住空子，便轻声对布兰登上校说道。“她的身体不像她姐姐那样好——她真有些神经质——她没有埃丽诺的素质好。人们必须承认，对于一个年轻姑娘来说，本来倒是个美人，一下子失去了自身的魅力，这也真够痛苦的。也许说来你不会相信，玛丽安几个月以前确实非常漂亮———简直和埃丽诺一样漂亮。可现在你瞧，一切都完了。” 　
  
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Chapter Thirty-five

Elinor's curiosity to see Mrs. Ferrars was satisfied.— She had found in her every thing that could tend to make a farther connection between the families undesirable.— She had seen enough of her pride, her meanness, and her determined prejudice against herself, to comprehend all the difficulties that must have perplexed the engagement, and retarded the marriage, of Edward and herself, had he been otherwise free;—and she had seen almost enough to be thankful for her own sake, that one greater obstacle preserved her from suffering under any other of Mrs. Ferrars's creation, preserved her from all dependence upon her caprice, or any solicitude for her good opinion. Or at least, if she did not bring herself quite to rejoice in Edward's being fettered to Lucy, she determined, that had Lucy been more amiable, she ought to have rejoiced.

She wondered that Lucy's spirits could be so very much elevated by the civility of Mrs. Ferrars;—that her interest and her vanity should so very much blind her as to make the attention which seemed only paid her because she was not Elinor, appear a compliment to herself—or to allow her to derive encouragement from a preference only given her, because her real situation was unknown. But that it was so, had not only been declared by Lucy's eyes at the time, but was declared over again the next morning more openly, for at her particular desire, Lady Middleton set her down in Berkeley Street on the chance of seeing Elinor alone, to tell her how happy she was.

The chance proved a lucky one, for a message from Mrs. Palmer soon after she arrived, carried Mrs. Jennings away.

"My dear friend," cried Lucy, as soon as they were by themselves, "I come to talk to you of my happiness. Could anything be so flattering as Mrs. Ferrars's way of treating me yesterday? So exceeding affable as she was!—You know how I dreaded the thoughts of seeing her;—but the very moment I was introduced, there was such an affability in her behaviour as really should seem to say, she had quite took a fancy to me. Now was not it so?— You saw it all; and was not you quite struck with it?"

"She was certainly very civil to you."

"Civil!—Did you see nothing but only civility?— I saw a vast deal more. Such kindness as fell to the share of nobody but me!—No pride, no hauteur, and your sister just the same—all sweetness and affability!"

Elinor wished to talk of something else, but Lucy still pressed her to own that she had reason for her happiness; and Elinor was obliged to go on.—

"Undoubtedly, if they had known your engagement," said she, "nothing could be more flattering than their treatment of you;—but as that was not the case"—

"I guessed you would say so"—replied Lucy quickly—"but there was no reason in the world why Mrs. Ferrars should seem to like me, if she did not, and her liking me is every thing. You shan't talk me out of my satisfaction. I am sure it will all end well, and there will be no difficulties at all, to what I used to think. Mrs. Ferrars is a charming woman, and so is your sister. They are both delightful women, indeed!—I wonder I should never hear you say how agreeable Mrs. Dashwood was!"

To this Elinor had no answer to make, and did not attempt any.

"Are you ill, Miss Dashwood?—you seem low—you don't speak;—sure you an't well."

"I never was in better health."

"I am glad of it with all my heart; but really you did not look it. I should be sorry to have you ill; you, that have been the greatest comfort to me in the world!—Heaven knows what I should have done without your friendship."—

Elinor tried to make a civil answer, though doubting her own success. But it seemed to satisfy Lucy, for she directly replied,

"Indeed I am perfectly convinced of your regard for me, and next to Edward's love, it is the greatest comfort I have.—Poor Edward!—But now there is one good thing, we shall be able to meet, and meet pretty often, for Lady Middleton's delighted with Mrs. Dashwood, so we shall be a good deal in Harley Street, I dare say, and Edward spends half his time with his sister—besides, Lady Middleton and Mrs. Ferrars will visit now;—and Mrs. Ferrars and your sister were both so good to say more than once, they should always be glad to see me.— They are such charming women!—I am sure if ever you tell your sister what I think of her, you cannot speak too high."

But Elinor would not give her any encouragement to hope that she should tell her sister. Lucy continued.

"I am sure I should have seen it in a moment, if Mrs. Ferrars had took a dislike to me. If she had only made me a formal courtesy, for instance, without saying a word, and never after had took any notice of me, and never looked at me in a pleasant way—you know what I mean—if I had been treated in that forbidding sort of way, I should have gave it all up in despair. I could not have stood it. For where she dose dislike, I know it is most violent."

Elinor was prevented from making any reply to this civil triumph, by the door's being thrown open, the servant's announcing Mr. Ferrars, and Edward's immediately walking in.

It was a very awkward moment; and the countenance of each shewed that it was so. They all looked exceedingly foolish; and Edward seemed to have as great an inclination to walk out of the room again, as to advance farther into it. The very circumstance, in its unpleasantest form, which they would each have been most anxious to avoid, had fallen on them.—They were not only all three together, but were together without the relief of any other person. The ladies recovered themselves first. It was not Lucy's business to put herself forward, and the appearance of secrecy must still be kept up. She could therefore only look her tenderness, and after slightly addressing him, said no more.

But Elinor had more to do; and so anxious was she, for his sake and her own, to do it well, that she forced herself, after a moment's recollection, to welcome him, with a look and manner that were almost easy, and almost open; and another struggle, another effort still improved them. She would not allow the presence of Lucy, nor the consciousness of some injustice towards herself, to deter her from saying that she was happy to see him, and that she had very much regretted being from home, when he called before in Berkeley Street. She would not be frightened from paying him those attentions which, as a friend and almost a relation, were his due, by the observant eyes of Lucy, though she soon perceived them to be narrowly watching her.

Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward, and he had courage enough to sit down; but his embarrassment still exceeded that of the ladies in a proportion, which the case rendered reasonable, though his sex might make it rare; for his heart had not the indifference of Lucy's, nor could his conscience have quite the ease of Elinor's.

Lucy, with a demure and settled air, seemed determined to make no contribution to the comfort of the others, and would not say a word; and almost every thing that WAS said, proceeded from Elinor, who was obliged to volunteer all the information about her mother's health, their coming to town, &c. which Edward ought to have inquired about, but never did.

Her exertions did not stop here; for she soon afterwards felt herself so heroically disposed as to determine, under pretence of fetching Marianne, to leave the others by themselves; and she really did it, and THAT in the handsomest manner, for she loitered away several minutes on the landing-place, with the most high-minded fortitude, before she went to her sister. When that was once done, however, it was time for the raptures of Edward to cease; for Marianne's joy hurried her into the drawing-room immediately. Her pleasure in seeing him was like every other of her feelings, strong in itself, and strongly spoken. She met him with a hand that would be taken, and a voice that expressed the affection of a sister.

"Dear Edward!" she cried, "this is a moment of great happiness!—This would almost make amends for every thing?"

Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved, but before such witnesses he dared not say half what he really felt. Again they all sat down, and for a moment or two all were silent; while Marianne was looking with the most speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and sometimes at Elinor, regretting only that their delight in each other should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome presence. Edward was the first to speak, and it was to notice Marianne's altered looks, and express his fear of her not finding London agree with her.

"Oh, don't think of me!" she replied with spirited earnestness, though her eyes were filled with tears as she spoke, "don't think of MY health. Elinor is well, you see. That must be enough for us both."

This remark was not calculated to make Edward or Elinor more easy, nor to conciliate the good will of Lucy, who looked up at Marianne with no very benignant expression.

"Do you like London?" said Edward, willing to say any thing that might introduce another subject.

"Not at all. I expected much pleasure in it, but I have found none. The sight of you, Edward, is the only comfort it has afforded; and thank Heaven! you are what you always were!"

She paused—no one spoke.

"I think, Elinor," she presently added, "we must employ Edward to take care of us in our return to Barton. In a week or two, I suppose, we shall be going; and, I trust, Edward will not be very unwilling to accept the charge."

Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was, nobody knew, not even himself. But Marianne, who saw his agitation, and could easily trace it to whatever cause best pleased herself, was perfectly satisfied, and soon talked of something else.

"We spent such a day, Edward, in Harley Street yesterday! So dull, so wretchedly dull!—But I have much to say to you on that head, which cannot be said now."

And with this admirable discretion did she defer the assurance of her finding their mutual relatives more disagreeable than ever, and of her being particularly disgusted with his mother, till they were more in private.

"But why were you not there, Edward?—Why did you not come?"

"I was engaged elsewhere."

"Engaged! But what was that, when such friends were to be met?"

"Perhaps, Miss Marianne," cried Lucy, eager to take some revenge on her, "you think young men never stand upon engagements, if they have no mind to keep them, little as well as great."

Elinor was very angry, but Marianne seemed entirely insensible of the sting; for she calmly replied,

"Not so, indeed; for, seriously speaking, I am very sure that conscience only kept Edward from Harley Street. And I really believe he HAS the most delicate conscience in the world; the most scrupulous in performing every engagement, however minute, and however it may make against his interest or pleasure. He is the most fearful of giving pain, of wounding expectation, and the most incapable of being selfish, of any body I ever saw. Edward, it is so, and I will say it. What! are you never to hear yourself praised!—Then you must be no friend of mine; for those who will accept of my love and esteem, must submit to my open commendation."

The nature of her commendation, in the present case, however, happened to be particularly ill-suited to the feelings of two thirds of her auditors, and was so very unexhilarating to Edward, that he very soon got up to go away.

"Going so soon!" said Marianne; "my dear Edward, this must not be."

And drawing him a little aside, she whispered her persuasion that Lucy could not stay much longer. But even this encouragement failed, for he would go; and Lucy, who would have outstaid him, had his visit lasted two hours, soon afterwards went away.

"What can bring her here so often?" said Marianne, on her leaving them. "Could not she see that we wanted her gone!—how teazing to Edward!"

"Why so?—we were all his friends, and Lucy has been the longest known to him of any. It is but natural that he should like to see her as well as ourselves."

Marianne looked at her steadily, and said, "You know, Elinor, that this is a kind of talking which I cannot bear. If you only hope to have your assertion contradicted, as I must suppose to be the case, you ought to recollect that I am the last person in the world to do it. I cannot descend to be tricked out of assurances, that are not really wanted."

She then left the room; and Elinor dared not follow her to say more, for bound as she was by her promise of secrecy to Lucy, she could give no information that would convince Marianne; and painful as the consequences of her still continuing in an error might be, she was obliged to submit to it. All that she could hope, was that Edward would not often expose her or himself to the distress of hearing Marianne's mistaken warmth, nor to the repetition of any other part of the pain that had attended their recent meeting—and this she had every reason to expect.



　　埃丽诺想见见费拉斯太太的好奇心得到了满足。她发现她身上一无是处，在这种情况下两家再去攀亲，那是很不理想的。她看清了她的傲慢、自私和对她自己的顽固偏见，因而可以理解：即使爱德华不受约束地同她订了婚，那也一定会遇到重重困难，使他们迟迟不能结婚。她看得真切，几乎在为自己感到庆幸！由于遇到了一个较大的障碍，她可以免于遭遇费拉斯太太设置的任何其他障碍，可以免于忍受她那反复无常的脾性，免于费尽心机地去赢得她的好感。或者，如果说她对爱德华迷上露西还不能感到十分高兴的话，她至少可口断定：假如露西更加和蔼一些，她本应感到高兴的。
　　使她感到惊奇的是，费拉斯太太一客气，居然使露西变得飘飘然起来。她利令智昏，自视甚高，殊不知费拉斯太太只不过因为她不是埃丽诺才对她青眼相加，而她却认为这是对她自己的赏识——本来费拉斯太太只因不了解她的真实底细才偏爱她，而她却从中大受鼓舞。露西的这种心情不仅从她当时的眼神里看得出来，而且第二天早晨还毫不隐讳地说了出来。原来，经她特意要求，米德尔顿夫人同意让她在伯克利街下车，也许会单独见见埃丽诺，告诉她她有多么高兴。
　　事情还真凑巧，她刚到不久，帕尔默夫人那里便来了封信，把詹宁斯太太请走了。
　　“我亲爱的朋友，”她们一剩下两个人，露西便嚷了起来，“我来跟你谈谈我的喜幸心情。费拉斯太太昨天那样厚待我，有什么事比这更今人愉快的呢？她多么和蔼可亲啊！你知道我原来多么害怕见到她，可是一当我被介绍给她，她的态度是那样和蔼可亲，似乎确实表明：她非常喜欢我。难道不是如此吗？你全都看见了，难道你不为之大受感动？”
　　“她当然对你非常客气。”
　　“客气！你只发现她很客气？我看远远不止于此．——除我之外，她对谁也没这么亲切啊！一不骄，二不傲，你嫂嫂也是如此——和蔼可亲极啦！”
　　埃丽诺很想谈点别的，可是露西硬要逼着她承认，她有理由感到幸福，于是埃丽诺不得不继续讲下去。
　　“毫无疑问，她们要是知道你俩订了婚，”她说，“再这样厚待你，那当然是再愉快不过啦！然而，情况并非如此—一”
　　“我早就猜到你会这么说，”露西急忙应答。“费拉斯太太若是不知道，她就决不会无缘无故地喜欢我——有她喜欢我，这比什么都重要。你休想劝说我转喜为悲。我知道事情一定会有个圆满的结局，我原先还顾虑重重，其实压根儿不会有什么困难。费拉斯太太是个可爱的女人，你嫂子也是如此。她们两人的确都很讨人喜欢！我很奇怪，怎么从没听你说过达什伍德夫人如何惹人爱呀！”
　　对此，埃丽诺无言可答，也不想回答。
　　“你有病吧，达什伍德小姐？你似乎情绪不高——连话都不说。你一定不舒服。”‘
　　“我从来没有这么健康过。”
　　“我从心里感到高兴，不过你的脸色的确不好。你若是真有病，我会感到很难过的——因为你给我带来了最大的安慰！要不是多亏了你的友情，天晓得我会怎么样。”
　　埃丽诺想给她个客气的回答，可又怀疑自己是否做得到。不过，露西倒似乎颇为得意，因为她又立即说道：
　　“的确，我完全相信你对我的深情厚谊。除了爱德华的爱，你的深情厚谊是我最大的安慰。可怜的爱德华！不过现在好了———我们能够见面啦，而且要经常见面，因为米德尔顿夫人很喜欢达什伍德夫人，这样一来，我们也许可以常去哈利街，爱德华可以有一半时间呆在他姐姐那里。何况，米德尔顿夫人和费拉斯太太也可以进行互访。费拉斯太太和你嫂嫂真好，她们不止一次地说过：什么时候都乐于见到我，她们多讨人喜欢啊！我相信，你若是告诉你嫂嫂我对她如何评价，那你说得再高都不会过份。”
　　但是，埃丽诺不想让她存有任何希望，认为她真会告诉她嫂嫂。露西接着说道：
　　“我知道，费拉斯太太若是真不喜欢我的话，我准能马上看得出来。比方说，假如她一声不吭，只是刻刻板极地给我鞠个躬，此后再也不理睬我，再也不和颜悦色地看我一眼——你知道我这是什么意思——假如我遭到如此可怕的冷遇，我早就死了这条心啦。那会叫我无法忍受的。我知道，她若是真的讨厌起谁来，那就是深恶痛绝啦。”
　　听了这席客客气气的得意之言，埃丽诺还没来得及作出回答，不料房门被推开了，只见仆人传报费拉斯先生驾到，随即爱德华便走了进来。
　　这是个令人非常尴尬的时刻，每个人的脸色表明，情况确实如此。一个个看上去呆痴痴的，爱德华似乎又想往里进，又想往外退。这种难堪的局面本是他们极力想避免的，现在却在所难逃了＿＿他们不仅三个人都碰到一起了，而且没有任何其他人帮助解围。两位小姐先恢复了镇定。露西不敢上前表示亲热，他们表面上还要保守秘密。因此，她只能用眼色传送柔情蜜意，嘴里刚与他寒暄了两句，便不再作声了。
　　不过，埃丽诺倒想多说几句，而且为了爱德华和她自己，还一心要处理得当一些。她稍许定了定神，硬是装出一副近乎坦率大方的神态，对他的到来表示欢迎，再经过一番努力，则显得更加神态自若了。尽管露西在场，尽管她知道自己受到了亏待，但她还是对他说：“见到他很高兴，他上次来伯克利街时，她不在家，很遗憾。”虽然她马上察觉露西那双锐利的眼睛正在直溜溜地盯着她，她却没有畏怯，本来就是朋友嘛，还多少算个亲戚，她还是对他以礼相待。
　　她的这般举止使爱德华消释了几分躁虑，鼓起勇气坐了下来。不过，他还是比两位小姐显得更窘些，这种情形对男子汉来说虽不多见，但具体到他，倒也合乎情理。因为他既不像露西那样毫不在乎，也不像埃丽诺那祥心安理得。
　　露西故意装出一副娴静自得的样子，好像决计不想给他们增添安慰似的，一句话也不肯说。真正说话的，几乎只埃丽诺一个人。什么她母亲的身体状况啊，她们如何来到城里啊，诸如这些情况爱德华本该主动问起的，但他并没这样做，埃丽诺只好主动介绍。
　　埃丽诺的一番苦心没有到此结束，不一会儿，她心里产生了一股豪情，便决定借口去喊玛丽安，将他们两人留在房里。她果真这么做了，而且做得极其大方，因为她怀着无比高尚的刚毅精神，在楼梯口盘桓了半天之后，才去叫她妹妹。可是一旦把妹妹请来，爱德华那种欣喜若狂的劲头也就得结束了。原来，玛丽安听说爱德华来了非常高兴，马上急急忙忙地跑到客厅。她一见到他高兴极了，就像她往常一样，感情充沛，言词热烈。她走上前去，伸出一只手让他握，说话声流露出做小姨子的深情厚意。
　　“亲爱的爱德华！”她大声嚷道，“这是大喜大庆的时刻！简直可以补偿一切损失！”
　　爱德华见玛丽安这么亲切，本想作出亲切的回应，但是面对着那两位目击者，他根本不敢说真心活。大家又重新坐下，默默无语地呆了一阵。这时，玛丽安脉脉含情地时而望望爱德华，时而瞧瞧埃丽诺，唯一感到遗憾的是，本来是皆大欢喜的事情，却让露西讨厌地夹在中间给搅坏了。爱德华第一个开口，他说玛丽安变样了，表示担心她过不惯伦敦的生活。
　　“噢！不要为我担心！”玛丽安兴奋而诚恳地应答，说话间，泪水涌进了眼眶。“不要担心我的身体。你瞧，埃丽诺不是好好的嘛。这就够使我们俩知足的了。”
　　这话不可能让爱德华和埃丽诺感到好受，也不可能博得露西的好感，只见她带着不很友好的表情，抬眼瞅着玛丽安。
　　“你喜欢伦敦吗？”爱德华说，他心想随便说点什么，把话头岔开。
　　“一点不喜欢。我原想来这里会其乐无穷的，结果什么乐趣也没有。现在见到你，爱德华，是伦敦给我带来的唯一的欣慰。谢天谢地！你还是老样子!”
　　她顿了顿——没有人作声。
　　“我看，埃丽诺，”她接着又说，“我们应该责成爱德华把我们送回巴顿。我想再过一两周，我们就该走了，我相信，爱德华不会不愿意接受这一托付吧。”
　　可怜的爱德华嘴里咕哝了一下，不过咕哝了什么，谁也不知道，就连他自己也不知道。玛丽安见他有些激动不安，很容易牵扯到最使她得意的原因上去，因而感到心满意足，马上就谈起了别的事情。
　　“爱德华，我们昨天在哈利街过得好窝囊啊：真没意思，无聊之极！不过，我在这一点上有好多话要对你说，只是现在不能说。”
　　她采取了如此令人钦佩的审慎态度，目前还不想告诉他：他们双方的那几位亲戚比以往任何时候都讨人嫌，特别是他的那位母亲尤其令人作呕。这些话只好等到他们单独在一起的时候再说。
　　“爱德华，你昨天为什么不在那里？你为什么不来呀，”
　　“我在别处有约会。”
　　“约会！有这样的朋友来相聚，你还会有什么约会呢？”
　　“也许，玛丽安小姐，”露西大声嚷道，她急切地想报复她一下，“你以为年轻人遇到大大小小的约会，一旦不对心思，就从不信守啊。”
　　埃丽诺顿感怒不可遏，然而玛丽安似乎全然觉不出她话里有刺，她心平气和地答道：
　　“我确实不这样认为。说正经的，我敢肯定，爱德华只是依照良心办事，才没去哈利街的。我确实认为．他是天下最有良心的人，每逢有约会，不管多么微不足道，不管多么违背他的兴致和乐趣，他总是谨慎小心地践约。他最怕给人带来痛苦，最伯使人感到失望，他是我见过的人中最不自私自利的人。爱德华，事实就是如此，我就是要这么说。什么！你不想听人表扬自己？那你一定不是我的朋友，因为凡是愿意接受我的友爱和敬意的人，必须接受我的公开赞扬。”
　　不过，听了她的这番赞扬，她的三分之二的听众心里觉得特别不是滋味，而爱德华更是大为不快，马上起身往外走去。
　　“这么快就走！”玛丽安说。“我亲爱的爱德华，这可不行呀：”
　　她把他拉到旁边一点，低声对他说：露西不会呆得很久。但是，她甚至这样鼓励也无济于事，因为他执意要走。本来，即使他呆上两个小时，露西也会奉陪到底的，现在见他走了，随后也接踵而去。
　　“她为什么老到这里来？”她一走，玛丽安便说道。“她难道后不出来我们要她走？真让爱德华哭笑不得！”
　　“这为什么？我们大家都是他的朋友，露西认识他的时间比谁都长，他想见见我们，自然也想见见她。”
　　玛丽安目不转睛地望着她，然后说：“你知道，埃丽诺，你这样说话真叫我受不了。我看你说这话是存心想叫别人反驳你，要真是这样的话，你应该记得，我是决不会这么干的。我不能上你的当，下作地说些毫无意义的废话。”
　　她说罢走出房去。埃丽诺不敢跟着她再说什么，因为她向露西保证过要保守秘密，她无法说出让玛丽安信服的情况。尽管这将错就错的后果是痛苦的，但她只得格守诺言。她只能希望，爱德华不要让她或他自己经常听见玛丽安信口开河地瞎说一通，也不要重新引起他们最近这次会见所招致的其他痛苦一一而这是她有充分理由加以期待的。 　
  
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Chapter Thirty-six

Within a few days after this meeting, the newspapers announced to the world, that the lady of Thomas Palmer, Esq. was safely delivered of a son and heir; a very interesting and satisfactory paragraph, at least to all those intimate connections who knew it before.

This event, highly important to Mrs. Jennings's happiness, produced a temporary alteration in the disposal of her time, and influenced, in a like degree, the engagements of her young friends; for as she wished to be as much as possible with Charlotte, she went thither every morning as soon as she was dressed, and did not return till late in the evening; and the Miss Dashwoods, at the particular request of the Middletons, spent the whole of every day, in every day in Conduit Street. For their own comfort they would much rather have remained, at least all the morning, in Mrs. Jennings's house; but it was not a thing to be urged against the wishes of everybody. Their hours were therefore made over to Lady Middleton and the two Miss Steeles, by whom their company, in fact was as little valued, as it was professedly sought.

They had too much sense to be desirable companions to the former; and by the latter they were considered with a jealous eye, as intruding on THEIR ground, and sharing the kindness which they wanted to monopolize. Though nothing could be more polite than Lady Middleton's behaviour to Elinor and Marianne, she did not really like them at all. Because they neither flattered herself nor her children, she could not believe them good-natured; and because they were fond of reading, she fancied them satirical: perhaps without exactly knowing what it was to be satirical; but THAT did not signify. It was censure in common use, and easily given.

Their presence was a restraint both on her and on Lucy. It checked the idleness of one, and the business of the other. Lady Middleton was ashamed of doing nothing before them, and the flattery which Lucy was proud to think of and administer at other times, she feared they would despise her for offering. Miss Steele was the least discomposed of the three, by their presence; and it was in their power to reconcile her to it entirely. Would either of them only have given her a full and minute account of the whole affair between Marianne and Mr. Willoughby, she would have thought herself amply rewarded for the sacrifice of the best place by the fire after dinner, which their arrival occasioned. But this conciliation was not granted; for though she often threw out expressions of pity for her sister to Elinor, and more than once dropt a reflection on the inconstancy of beaux before Marianne, no effect was produced, but a look of indifference from the former, or of disgust in the latter. An effort even yet lighter might have made her their friend. Would they only have laughed at her about the Doctor! But so little were they, anymore than the others, inclined to oblige her, that if Sir John dined from home, she might spend a whole day without hearing any other raillery on the subject, than what she was kind enough to bestow on herself.

All these jealousies and discontents, however, were so totally unsuspected by Mrs. Jennings, that she thought it a delightful thing for the girls to be together; and generally congratulated her young friends every night, on having escaped the company of a stupid old woman so long. She joined them sometimes at Sir John's, sometimes at her own house; but wherever it was, she always came in excellent spirits, full of delight and importance, attributing Charlotte's well doing to her own care, and ready to give so exact, so minute a detail of her situation, as only Miss Steele had curiosity enough to desire. One thing did disturb her; and of that she made her daily complaint. Mr. Palmer maintained the common, but unfatherly opinion among his sex, of all infants being alike; and though she could plainly perceive, at different times, the most striking resemblance between this baby and every one of his relations on both sides, there was no convincing his father of it; no persuading him to believe that it was not exactly like every other baby of the same age; nor could he even be brought to acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the finest child in the world.

I come now to the relation of a misfortune, which about this time befell Mrs. John Dashwood. It so happened that while her two sisters with Mrs. Jennings were first calling on her in Harley Street, another of her acquaintance had dropt in—a circumstance in itself not apparently likely to produce evil to her. But while the imaginations of other people will carry them away to form wrong judgments of our conduct, and to decide on it by slight appearances, one's happiness must in some measure be always at the mercy of chance. In the present instance, this last-arrived lady allowed her fancy to so far outrun truth and probability, that on merely hearing the name of the Miss Dashwoods, and understanding them to be Mr. Dashwood's sisters, she immediately concluded them to be staying in Harley Street; and this misconstruction produced within a day or two afterwards, cards of invitation for them as well as for their brother and sister, to a small musical party at her house. The consequence of which was, that Mrs. John Dashwood was obliged to submit not only to the exceedingly great inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Miss Dashwoods, but, what was still worse, must be subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing to treat them with attention: and who could tell that they might not expect to go out with her a second time? The power of disappointing them, it was true, must always be her's. But that was not enough; for when people are determined on a mode of conduct which they know to be wrong, they feel injured by the expectation of any thing better from them.

Marianne had now been brought by degrees, so much into the habit of going out every day, that it was become a matter of indifference to her, whether she went or not: and she prepared quietly and mechanically for every evening's engagement, though without expecting the smallest amusement from any, and very often without knowing, till the last moment, where it was to take her.

To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly indifferent, as not to bestow half the consideration on it, during the whole of her toilet, which it received from Miss Steele in the first five minutes of their being together, when it was finished. Nothing escaped HER minute observation and general curiosity; she saw every thing, and asked every thing; was never easy till she knew the price of every part of Marianne's dress; could have guessed the number of her gowns altogether with better judgment than Marianne herself, and was not without hopes of finding out before they parted, how much her washing cost per week, and how much she had every year to spend upon herself. The impertinence of these kind of scrutinies, moreover, was generally concluded with a compliment, which though meant as its douceur, was considered by Marianne as the greatest impertinence of all; for after undergoing an examination into the value and make of her gown, the colour of her shoes, and the arrangement of her hair, she was almost sure of being told that upon "her word she looked vastly smart, and she dared to say she would make a great many conquests."

With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed on the present occasion, to her brother's carriage; which they were ready to enter five minutes after it stopped at the door, a punctuality not very agreeable to their sister-in-law, who had preceded them to the house of her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay on their part that might inconvenience either herself or her coachman.

The events of this evening were not very remarkable. The party, like other musical parties, comprehended a great many people who had real taste for the performance, and a great many more who had none at all; and the performers themselves were, as usual, in their own estimation, and that of their immediate friends, the first private performers in England.

As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be so, she made no scruple of turning her eyes from the grand pianoforte, whenever it suited her, and unrestrained even by the presence of a harp, and violoncello, would fix them at pleasure on any other object in the room. In one of these excursive glances she perceived among a group of young men, the very he, who had given them a lecture on toothpick-cases at Gray's. She perceived him soon afterwards looking at herself, and speaking familiarly to her brother; and had just determined to find out his name from the latter, when they both came towards her, and Mr. Dashwood introduced him to her as Mr. Robert Ferrars.

He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his head into a bow which assured her as plainly as words could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy. Happy had it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended less on his own merit, than on the merit of his nearest relations! For then his brother's bow must have given the finishing stroke to what the ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun. But while she wondered at the difference of the two young men, she did not find that the emptiness of conceit of the one, put her out of all charity with the modesty and worth of the other. Why they were different, Robert exclaimed to her himself in the course of a quarter of an hour's conversation; for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme gaucherie which he really believed kept him from mixing in proper society, he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any natural deficiency, than to the misfortune of a private education; while he himself, though probably without any particular, any material superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school, was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man.

"Upon my soul," he added, "I believe it is nothing more; and so I often tell my mother, when she is grieving about it. 'My dear Madam,' I always say to her, 'you must make yourself easy. The evil is now irremediable, and it has been entirely your own doing. Why would you be persuaded by my uncle, Sir Robert, against your own judgment, to place Edward under private tuition, at the most critical time of his life? If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself, instead of sending him to Mr. Pratt's, all this would have been prevented.' This is the way in which I always consider the matter, and my mother is perfectly convinced of her error."

Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because, whatever might be her general estimation of the advantage of a public school, she could not think of Edward's abode in Mr. Pratt's family, with any satisfaction.

"You reside in Devonshire, I think,"—was his next observation, "in a cottage near Dawlish."

Elinor set him right as to its situation; and it seemed rather surprising to him that anybody could live in Devonshire, without living near Dawlish. He bestowed his hearty approbation however on their species of house.

"For my own part," said he, "I am excessively fond of a cottage; there is always so much comfort, so much elegance about them. And I protest, if I had any money to spare, I should buy a little land and build one myself, within a short distance of London, where I might drive myself down at any time, and collect a few friends about me, and be happy. I advise every body who is going to build, to build a cottage. My friend Lord Courtland came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice, and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's. I was to decide on the best of them. 'My dear Courtland,' said I, immediately throwing them all into the fire, 'do not adopt either of them, but by all means build a cottage.' And that I fancy, will be the end of it.

"Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations, no space in a cottage; but this is all a mistake. I was last month at my friend Elliott's, near Dartford. Lady Elliott wished to give a dance. 'But how can it be done?' said she; 'my dear Ferrars, do tell me how it is to be managed. There is not a room in this cottage that will hold ten couple, and where can the supper be?' I immediately saw that there could be no difficulty in it, so I said, 'My dear Lady Elliott, do not be uneasy. The dining parlour will admit eighteen couple with ease; card-tables may be placed in the drawing-room; the library may be open for tea and other refreshments; and let the supper be set out in the saloon.' Lady Elliott was delighted with the thought. We measured the dining-room, and found it would hold exactly eighteen couple, and the affair was arranged precisely after my plan. So that, in fact, you see, if people do but know how to set about it, every comfort may be as well enjoyed in a cottage as in the most spacious dwelling."

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition.

As John Dashwood had no more pleasure in music than his eldest sister, his mind was equally at liberty to fix on any thing else; and a thought struck him during the evening, which he communicated to his wife, for her approbation, when they got home. The consideration of Mrs. Dennison's mistake, in supposing his sisters their guests, had suggested the propriety of their being really invited to become such, while Mrs. Jenning's engagements kept her from home. The expense would be nothing, the inconvenience not more; and it was altogether an attention which the delicacy of his conscience pointed out to be requisite to its complete enfranchisement from his promise to his father. Fanny was startled at the proposal.

"I do not see how it can be done," said she, "without affronting Lady Middleton, for they spend every day with her; otherwise I should be exceedingly glad to do it. You know I am always ready to pay them any attention in my power, as my taking them out this evening shews. But they are Lady Middleton's visitors. How can I ask them away from her?"

Her husband, but with great humility, did not see the force of her objection. "They had already spent a week in this manner in Conduit Street, and Lady Middleton could not be displeased at their giving the same number of days to such near relations."

Fanny paused a moment, and then, with fresh vigor, said,

"My love I would ask them with all my heart, if it was in my power. But I had just settled within myself to ask the Miss Steeles to spend a few days with us. They are very well behaved, good kind of girls; and I think the attention is due to them, as their uncle did so very well by Edward. We can ask your sisters some other year, you know; but the Miss Steeles may not be in town any more. I am sure you will like them; indeed, you DO like them, you know, very much already, and so does my mother; and they are such favourites with Harry!"

Mr. Dashwood was convinced. He saw the necessity of inviting the Miss Steeles immediately, and his conscience was pacified by the resolution of inviting his sisters another year; at the same time, however, slyly suspecting that another year would make the invitation needless, by bringing Elinor to town as Colonel Brandon's wife, and Marianne as THEIR visitor.

Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready wit that had procured it, wrote the next morning to Lucy, to request her company and her sister's, for some days, in Harley Street, as soon as Lady Middleton could spare them. This was enough to make Lucy really and reasonably happy. Mrs. Dashwood seemed actually working for her, herself; cherishing all her hopes, and promoting all her views! Such an opportunity of being with Edward and his family was, above all things, the most material to her interest, and such an invitation the most gratifying to her feelings! It was an advantage that could not be too gratefully acknowledged, nor too speedily made use of; and the visit to Lady Middleton, which had not before had any precise limits, was instantly discovered to have been always meant to end in two days' time.

When the note was shown to Elinor, as it was within ten minutes after its arrival, it gave her, for the first time, some share in the expectations of Lucy; for such a mark of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed on so short an acquaintance, seemed to declare that the good-will towards her arose from something more than merely malice against herself; and might be brought, by time and address, to do every thing that Lucy wished. Her flattery had already subdued the pride of Lady Middleton, and made an entry into the close heart of Mrs. John Dashwood; and these were effects that laid open the probability of greater.

The Miss Steeles removed to Harley Street, and all that reached Elinor of their influence there, strengthened her expectation of the event. Sir John, who called on them more than once, brought home such accounts of the favour they were in, as must be universally striking. Mrs. Dashwood had never been so much pleased with any young women in her life, as she was with them; had given each of them a needle book made by some emigrant; called Lucy by her Christian name; and did not know whether she should ever be able to part with them.



　　就在这次会面后不几天，报上登出了这样一条消息：托马斯．帕尔默先生的太太平安生下一个儿子兼继承人。这是一条令人感兴趣的、令人满意的新闻，至少那些事先了解情况的至亲都是这么认为的。
　　这件事意义重大，关系到詹宁斯太太的幸福，因而促使她暂时改变了她的时间安排，同样也影响到她的年轻朋友们的活动安排。这位太太希望尽可能地同夏洛特呆在一起，因此每天早晨一穿好衣服便过去了，晚上直到很晚才回来。达什伍德家两位小姐经米德尔顿夫妇特意要求，只好整日整日地在康迪特街度过。就舒适而言，她们还是宁愿呆在詹宁斯太太家里，至少愿意整个上午能够如此。但是她们又不便违背众人的愿望，硬是提出这样的要求。因此，她俩的时间就转而泡在米德尔顿夫人和斯蒂尔妹妹身上。其实，她们虽然嘴上说要找她俩作伴，实际上并不欢迎她们。
　　达什伍德家小姐都是很有头脑的人，不可能成为米德尔顿夫人的理想伙伴。而两位斯蒂尔小姐更以嫉妒的目光看待她们，认为她俩闯入了她们的地盘，分享着她们本想独享的盛情厚意。虽说米德尔顿夫人对待埃丽诺和玛丽安是再客气不过了，但她绝非真正喜欢她们。正因为她们既不阿谀她本人，又不奉承她的孩子，她便无法认为她们和蔼可亲。又因为她们喜欢看书，她便认为她们爱挖苦人。也许她并不知道挖苦是什么意思，不过那不要紧。这是大家动不动就搬出来的常用的指责语。
　　她们的出现对她和露西都是约束，既限制了一方的游手好闲，又限制了另一方的极尽所能。米德尔顿夫人当着她们的面什么事情也不干，未免觉得有些羞愧。而露西在别的时候，无论在思想上还是行动上都以阿谀奉承为能事，现在却担心她们因此而瞧不起她。这三个人中，对达什伍德家小姐的到来最不感到烦恼的，是斯蒂尔小姐。她们完全有能力与她和睦相处。晚饭后，一见她们进来，她就把火炉前的最好位置让了出来。她们两人只要有一位能向她详细介绍一下玛丽安与威洛比先生之间的整个恋爱史，她便会觉得这位置没有白让，得到了充分的报偿。但是，这种和睦现象并非毫无问题；虽然她经常向埃丽诺表示对她妹妹的同情，并且不止一次地在玛丽安面前流露过对于男人反复无常的责难，但是这除了惹得埃丽诺露出漠然的神情，玛丽安露出憎恶的神色之外，别无其他效果。她们哪怕稍微作出一点努力，她也会成为她们的朋友。她们只要拿博士开开她的玩笑就足够啦！谁想她们与别人一样，根本不想满足她的愿望。因此，如果约翰爵士外出，不在家吃饭，那她整天都听不到别人用这件事戏弄她，她只好进行自我嘲弄。
　　不过，这些妒忌和不满全然没有引起詹宁斯太太的猜疑，她只觉得姑娘们呆在一块是件令人愉快的事情。每天晚上都要祝贺她的年轻朋友们能避开她这傻老婆子，清闲了这么长时间。她有时到约翰爵士家，有时在自己家里，跟她们呆在一起。然而不管在哪儿，她总是精神焕发，兴高采烈，神气十足。她把夏洛特的顺利恢复归功于她自己的精心照料，她很想详细准确地叙说一下她的情况，可惜愿意听的只有斯蒂尔小姐一个人。有一桩事确实引起了她的不安，为此她天天都要抱怨几句。帕尔默先生坚持他们男人的一个共同观点，认为所有的婴儿都是一个样，真不像个做父亲的。虽然詹宁斯太太在不同时候能觉察这小家伙同他父母双方的个个亲戚都酷似，她却无法让他父亲接受这一看法。她无法使他相信，这小家伙和同他一般大小的其他小孩不尽相同；甚至也无法叫他认可这样一个简单的意见，即这小家伙是天下最漂亮的孩子。
　　大约就在这个时候，约翰．达什伍德夫人遇到了一件不幸的事情，我现在要来叙述一下。原来，就在她的两个小姑伙同詹宁斯太太头一次来哈利街拜访她时，又有一个朋友也顺便来访———这件事情本身倒不见得会给她带来不幸。但是有入会想人非非地对别人的行为得出错误的看法，凭着一鳞半爪的现象来判断是非。这样一来，人们的幸福在一定程度上总是要听任命运的摆布。且说目前，最后到来的这位太太，她的想象完全超出事实和可能的界限，刚一听到两位达什伍德小姐的名字，知道他们是达什伍德夫人的小姑，便立即断定她们眼下住在哈利街。由于有这样的误解，她一两天后便发来请帖，邀请她俩及其哥嫂到她府上参加一个小型音乐会。其结果，不仅给约翰．达什伍德夫人带来了极大的不便，只得派车去接达什伍德家两妹妹，而且更糟糕的是，她还必须显得对她脽拓心备至，真叫她满肚子不高兴。谁敢说她们就不期待第二次同她一道出去活动？确实，她随时都有权力拒绝她们。但是那还不够，因为人们一旦认定了一种他们明知不对的行动方式时，你再想让他们采取正确的行动，那他们会恼羞成怒的。
　　对于每天出去践约，玛丽安已经渐渐习以为常了，因而她是不是出去也就无所谓了。她默默而机械地为每天晚上赴约做着准备工作，虽然她并不期望从中得到一丝一毫的乐趣，而且往往是直到最后时刻才知道要被带到哪里去。
　　玛丽安对自己的衣着打扮已经变得满不在乎了，随随便便地梳妆一下，等斯蒂尔小姐进来，难免引起她的注意。相比之下，玛丽安整个梳妆时间花费的精力，还顶不上斯蒂尔小姐进来后五分钟里斟酌玛丽安的衣着所付出精力的一半。她观察得细致入微，对什么都很好奇，无所不见，无所不问，不弄清玛丽安每件衣服的价钱，决不罢休。她可以猜出玛丽安总共有多少件外衣，而且比玛丽安自己判断得还准确。分手前，她甚至还有希望发现玛丽安每周洗衣服要花多少钱，每年在自己身上耗费多少钱。另外，她发出这种不礼貌的盘问，最后还总要奉承两句。虽说她是一番好意，但玛丽安却认为这比什么都不礼貌；因为她仔细调查了她外衣的价格和式样、鞋子的颜色和发式之后，近乎肯定地对她说：“说实话，你看上去漂亮极了，肯定会征服不少男人。”
　　听了这番鼓励，玛丽安便辞别斯蒂尔小姐，下去乘坐她哥哥的马车。马车停到门口才五分钟，她们便已准备就绪。其实，她们的嫂嫂并不喜欢她们这么守时，因为她赶在她们前头先来到朋友家里，一心希望她们能耽搁一下。这也许会给马车夫带来些不便；但准时赶到却会给她自己带来不便。
　　晚上的活动并不十分精彩。同其他音乐会一样，到会的有不少人对演出确有欣赏能力，还有不少人根本是一窍不通。而那些表演者却像往常一样，被他们自己和他们的亲友视为英国第一流的民间表演家。
　　埃丽诺不喜欢音乐，也不假装喜欢，她的目光可以毫无顾忌地随意离开大钢琴，即使竖琴和大提琴，对她也毫无约束，室内的目标她爱看什么就看什么。她东张西望的时候，从那伙年轻小伙子里发现了一个人，就是他，曾经在格雷商店向她们讲解过牙签盒。转眼间，埃丽诺察觉他正在望着自己，而且正在亲切地同她哥哥说话。她刚想问问哥哥他叫什么名字，不料他俩一齐朝她走来。达什伍德先生向她介绍说：他是罗伯特．费拉斯先生。
　　他同埃丽诺说话的时候，显得既客气又随便，脑袋一歪鞠了个躬，像言语一样清楚地向她表明：他就是露西对她描绘过的那个花花公子。她当初喜欢爱德华假如不是看他人品好，而是看在他至亲的份上，那她该大为庆幸了。本来他母亲和姐姐的乖戾脾气已经引起了她的反感，现在他弟弟的这一鞠躬却把这种反感推向了顶点。然而，当她对这两位年轻人的如此不同感到诧异时，她并没有因为一方的愚昧自负，而失去对另一方的谦逊高尚的好感。他俩为什么会如此窘然不同，罗伯特在一次一刻钟的攀谈中亲自向她作了解释。他一说起他哥哥，便对他的极端不善交际感到惋惜，认为这确实妨碍了他与正经人的交往。他还坦率大方地将这一点归咎于不幸的私人教育，而不薀烷咎于天赋之不足。至于他自己，虽说天赋不见得特别优越，但是由于沾了上公学的便宜，结果与人交往起来比任何人都得心应手。
　　“说实在话，”他接着说道，“我认为这也没有什么大不了的。我母亲为此难过的时候，我常对她这么说。‘我亲爱的母亲，’我总是这么对她说，‘你要放宽心。这种不幸是无可挽回的，而且都怪你自己不好。你为什么不坚持自己的意见，却偏要听信我舅舅罗伯特爵士的话，让爱德华在他一生最关键的时候去接受私人教育？你当初只要把他像我一样送进威斯敏斯特公学，而不是送到普赖特先生家里，那么这一切都可以避免。’这就是我对这件事的一贯看法，我母亲已经完全认识了她的过错。”
　　埃丽诺不想同他分辩，因为不管她对公学的忧点有些什么看法，她一想到爱德华住在普赖特家里，终究很难感到满意。
　　“我想你是住在德文郡，”罗伯特接下去说道，“道利希附近的一幢乡舍里。”
　　埃丽诺纠正了他说的位置，这似乎使他感到很奇怪：有人居然住在德文郡而不靠近道利希。不过，他对她们的那种房子还是给予充分的肯定。
　　“就我本人来说，”他说，“我极其喜欢乡舍。这种房子总是那样舒适，那样幽雅。我担保，假如我有多余的钱，我就在离伦敦不远的地方买块地皮，自己造座乡舍，随时可以乘车出城，找几个朋友娱乐一番。我劝那些要盖房子的人都盖座乡舍。那天，我的朋友考特兰勋爵特意跑来征求我的意见，将博诺米给他画的三份图样摆在我面前，要我确定哪一份最好。我一把将那些设计图全都抛进了火里，然后说道：‘我亲爱的考特兰，你哪一份也别用，无论如何要建座乡舍。’我想事情就是这么个结局。
　　有些人认为乡舍地方小，条件差，这就大错特错啦。上个月，我住在我的朋友爱略特家里，就在达特福德附近。爱略特夫人想举行一次舞会。‘可是怎么办呢？’她说。‘我亲爱的费拉斯，请你告诉我该怎么办呀。这座乡舍里没有一个房间能容得下十对舞伴，晚饭又在哪里吃？’我倒马上发现这没有什么难处，于是便说：‘我亲爱的爱略特夫人，你不用犯难。餐厅能宽宽裕裕地容得下十八对舞伴；牌桌可以摆在客厅里；书房可以用来吃茶点；晚饭就在会客室里吃。’爱略特夫人听了这个意见非常高兴。我们量了一下餐厅，发现恰好能容纳十八对舞伴，事情完全按照我的设想作了安排。所以嘛，你瞧，只要人们知道如何筹划，住在乡舍里同住在最宽敞的住宅里一样，什么舒适条件都能享受得到。”
　　埃丽诺对此一概表示同意，她认为她犯不着去据理反驳，罗伯特不配受到这样的抬举。
　　约翰．达什伍德同他大妹妹一样不喜爱音乐，因而思想也在随意开小差。他晚会期间想到一个主意，回到家里说给妻子听，征求她的同意。鉴于丹尼森太太误以为他妹妹在他家里作客，他应该趁詹宁斯太太出去忙碌的时候，确实请她们来家作客。花销微乎其微，也不会带来什么不便；他是个很有良心的人，为了彻底履行他对先父的诺言，完全有必要关照她们。范妮听到这个建议，不禁大吃一惊。
　　“我真不知道，”她说，“你这样做怎么能不使米德尔顿夫人难堪，因为她们天天都跟她呆在一起。不然的话，我也会很乐意这么办的。你知道，我总是愿意尽力关照她们，正像我今天晚上带她们出去所表明的那样。不过，她们是米德尔顿夫人的客人，我怎么能把她们从她身边抢走呢？”
　　她丈夫看不出她的反对意见有什么说服力，不过对她还是十分谦恭。“她们已经在康迪特街住了一个星期，再到我们这样的近亲家住上同样的天数，米德尔顿夫人不会不高兴的。”
　　范妮停顿了一会儿，然后又重新打起精神，说：
　　“亲爱的，要是办得到的话，我一定诚心诚意地请她们来。可是，我心里刚刚打定主意，想让两位斯蒂尔小姐来住几天。她们薀玩规矩矩的好姑娘。再说她们的舅舅待爱德华那么好，我觉得也该款待款待她们。你知道，我们可以改年再请你妹妹来。而斯蒂尔姐妹俩可能不会再进城了。你一定会喜欢她们的。其实，你知道，你已经非常喜欢她们了，我母亲也很喜欢她们，而且哈里又那样特别喜爱她们。”
　　达什伍德先生被说服了。他觉得有必要马上邀请两位斯蒂尔小姐，而改年再邀请他妹妹的决定则使他的良心得到了安慰。不过在这同时，他又暗中怀疑：再过一年就没有必要去邀请她们进城了，因为到那时候埃丽诺已经成了布兰登上校的夫人，玛丽安成了他们的座上客。
　　达什伍德夫人为自己避开了这场麻烦而感到欣喜，她还为自己的急中生智感到自豪。第二天早晨，她给露西写信，要求她和她姐姐在米德尔顿夫人肯放手的时候，马上来哈利街住上几天。这理所当然地使露西感到十分高兴。达什伍德夫人似乎在亲自为她操心，真是急她所急，想她所想！能有这样的机会同爱德华及其家人呆在一起，这对她比什么事情都至关紧要，这样的邀请比什么都使她感到心满意足！这真是一件叫她感激不尽、急不可待的大好事。却说她在米德尔顿夫人家作客本来并没有明确的期限，现在却突然发现，她早就打算住上两天就走似的。
　　露西收到信不过十分钟，就拿来给埃丽诺看。看完后，埃丽诺第一次感到露西还真有几分希望。才相识这么几天，就得到如此异乎寻常的厚爱。这似乎表明：对她的这番好意并非完全起源于对她自己的恶意，时间一久，说话投契了，露西就能万事如意。她的阿谀奉承已经征服了米德尔顿夫人的傲慢，打通了约翰．达什伍德夫人紧锁的心房。这些成果揭开了取得更大成功的序幕。
　　两位斯蒂尔小姐搬到了哈利街，她们在那里非常吃香。消息传到埃丽诺耳朵里，进一步增强了她对事情的期待感。约翰爵士不止一次地去拜访过斯蒂尔妹妹，回到家里详细描绘了她们如何受宠的情况，谁听了都觉得了不起。达什伍德夫人平生从来没有像喜欢她们那样喜欢过任何年轻女子。她送给她们一人一只针肃盒，那是一位移民制作的。她直接称呼露西的教名。不知道她将来能不能舍得放她们走。 　



Volume II ends

  
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Chapter Thirty-seven
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Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that her mother felt it no longer necessary to give up the whole of her time to her; and, contenting herself with visiting her once or twice a day, returned from that period to her own home, and her own habits, in which she found the Miss Dashwoods very ready to resume their former share.

About the third or fourth morning after their being thus resettled in Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings, on returning from her ordinary visit to Mrs. Palmer, entered the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by herself, with an air of such hurrying importance as prepared her to hear something wonderful; and giving her time only to form that idea, began directly to justify it, by saying,

"Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?"

"No, ma'am. What is it?"

"Something so strange! But you shall hear it all.— When I got to Mr. Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in a fuss about the child. She was sure it was very ill—it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples. So I looked at it directly, and, 'Lord! my dear,' says I, 'it is nothing in the world, but the red gum—' and nurse said just the same. But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so Mr. Donavan was sent for; and luckily he happened to just come in from Harley Street, so he stepped over directly, and as soon as ever he saw the child, be said just as we did, that it was nothing in the world but the red gum, and then Charlotte was easy. And so, just as he was going away again, it came into my head, I am sure I do not know how I happened to think of it, but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news. So upon that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave, and seemed to know something or other, and at last he said in a whisper, 'For fear any unpleasant report should reach the young ladies under your care as to their sister's indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs. Dashwood will do very well.'"

"What! is Fanny ill?"

"That is exactly what I said, my dear. 'Lord!' says I, 'is Mrs. Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and the long and the short of the matter, by all I can learn, seems to be this. Mr. Edward Ferrars, the very young man I used to joke with you about (but however, as it turns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thing in it), Mr. Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engaged above this twelvemonth to my cousin Lucy!—There's for you, my dear!—And not a creature knowing a syllable of the matter, except Nancy!—Could you have believed such a thing possible?— There is no great wonder in their liking one another; but that matters should be brought so forward between them, and nobody suspect it!—THAT is strange!—I never happened to see them together, or I am sure I should have found it out directly. Well, and so this was kept a great secret, for fear of Mrs. Ferrars, and neither she nor your brother or sister suspected a word of the matter;—till this very morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature, but no conjurer, popt it all out. 'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about it;' and so, away she went to your sister, who was sitting all alone at her carpet-work, little suspecting what was to come—for she had just been saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that she thought to make a match between Edward and some Lord's daughter or other, I forget who. So you may think what a blow it was to all her vanity and pride. She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such screams as reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his own dressing-room down stairs, thinking about writing a letter to his steward in the country. So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming what was going on. Poor soul! I pity HER. And I must say, I think she was used very hardly; for your sister scolded like any fury, and soon drove her into a fainting fit. Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cried bitterly; and your brother, he walked about the room, and said he did not know what to do. Mrs. Dashwood declared they should not stay a minute longer in the house, and your brother was forced to go down upon HIS knees too, to persuade her to let them stay till they had packed up their clothes. THEN she fell into hysterics again, and he was so frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan, and Mr. Donavan found the house in all this uproar. The carriage was at the door ready to take my poor cousins away, and they were just stepping in as he came off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, she could hardly walk; and Nancy, she was almost as bad. I declare, I have no patience with your sister; and I hope, with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her. Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward will be in when he hears of it! To have his love used so scornfully! for they say he is monstrous fond of her, as well he may. I should not wonder, if he was to be in the greatest passion!—and Mr. Donavan thinks just the same. He and I had a great deal of talk about it; and the best of all is, that he is gone back again to Harley Street, that he may be within call when Mrs. Ferrars is told of it, for she was sent for as soon as ever my cousins left the house, for your sister was sure SHE would be in hysterics too; and so she may, for what I care. I have no pity for either of them. I have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and greatness. There is no reason on earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should not marry; for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars may afford to do very well by her son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself, she knows better than any body how to make the most of every thing; I dare say, if Mrs. Ferrars would only allow him five hundred a-year, she would make as good an appearance with it as any body else would with eight. Lord! how snug they might live in such another cottage as yours—or a little bigger—with two maids, and two men; and I believe I could help them to a housemaid, for my Betty has a sister out of place, that would fit them exactly."

Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had time enough to collect her thoughts, she was able to give such an answer, and make such observations, as the subject might naturally be supposed to produce. Happy to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinary interest in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of late often hoped might be the case) had ceased to imagine her at all attached to Edward; and happy above all the rest, in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well able to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and to give her judgment, as she believed, with impartiality on the conduct of every one concerned in it.

She could hardly determine what her own expectation of its event really was; though she earnestly tried to drive away the notion of its being possible to end otherwise at last, than in the marriage of Edward and Lucy. What Mrs. Ferrars would say and do, though there could not be a doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear; and still more anxious to know how Edward would conduct himself. For HIM she felt much compassion;—for Lucy very little—and it cost her some pains to procure that little;—for the rest of the party none at all.

As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor soon saw the necessity of preparing Marianne for its discussion. No time was to be lost in undeceiving her, in making her acquainted with the real truth, and in endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others, without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her sister, or any resentment against Edward.

Elinor's office was a painful one.—She was going to remove what she really believed to be her sister's chief consolation,—to give such particulars of Edward as she feared would ruin him for ever in her good opinion,-and to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations, which to HER fancy would seem strong, feel all her own disappointment over again. But unwelcome as such a task must be, it was necessary to be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it.

She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own feelings, or to represent herself as suffering much, any otherwise than as the self-command she had practised since her first knowledge of Edward's engagement, might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne. Her narration was clear and simple; and though it could not be given without emotion, it was not accompanied by violent agitation, nor impetuous grief.—THAT belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne listened with horror, and cried excessively. Elinor was to be the comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs; and all the comfort that could be given by assurances of her own composure of mind, and a very earnest vindication of Edward from every charge but of imprudence, was readily offered.

But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither. Edward seemed a second Willoughby; and acknowledging as Elinor did, that she HAD loved him most sincerely, could she feel less than herself! As for Lucy Steele, she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutely incapable of attaching a sensible man, that she could not be persuaded at first to believe, and afterwards to pardon, any former affection of Edward for her. She would not even admit it to have been natural; and Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that which only could convince her, a better knowledge of mankind.

Her first communication had reached no farther than to state the fact of the engagement, and the length of time it had existed.—Marianne's feelings had then broken in, and put an end to all regularity of detail; and for some time all that could be done was to soothe her distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment. The first question on her side, which led to farther particulars, was,

"How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has he written to you?"

"I have known it these four months. When Lucy first came to Barton Park last November, she told me in confidence of her engagement."

At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her lips could not utter. After a pause of wonder, she exclaimed—

"Four months!—Have you known of this four months?"

Elinor confirmed it.

"What!—while attending me in all my misery, has this been on your heart?—And I have reproached you for being happy!"—

"It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!"

"Four months!"—cried Marianne again.—"So calm!—so cheerful!—how have you been supported?"—

"By feeling that I was doing my duty.—My promise to Lucy, obliged me to be secret. I owed it to her, therefore, to avoid giving any hint of the truth; and I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in them a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power to satisfy."

Marianne seemed much struck.

"I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother," added Elinor; "and once or twice I have attempted it;—but without betraying my trust, I never could have convinced you."

"Four months!—and yet you loved him!"—

"Yes. But I did not love only him;—and while the comfort of others was dear to me, I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt. Now, I can think and speak of it with little emotion. I would not have you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no longer suffer materially myself. I have many things to support me. I am not conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my own, I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther. I acquit Edward of essential misconduct. I wish him very happy; and I am so sure of his always doing his duty, that though now he may harbour some regret, in the end he must become so. Lucy does not want sense, and that is the foundation on which every thing good may be built.—And after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not meant—it is not fit—it is not possible that it should be so.— Edward will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman superior in person and understanding to half her sex; and time and habit will teach him to forget that he ever thought another superior to her."—

"If such is your way of thinking," said Marianne, "if the loss of what is most valued is so easily to be made up by something else, your resolution, your self-command, are, perhaps, a little less to be wondered at.—They are brought more within my comprehension."

"I understand you.—You do not suppose that I have ever felt much.—For four months, Marianne, I have had all this hanging on my mind, without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it would make you and my mother most unhappy whenever it were explained to you, yet unable to prepare you for it in the least.— It was told me,—it was in a manner forced on me by the very person herself, whose prior engagement ruined all my prospects; and told me, as I thought, with triumph.— This person's suspicions, therefore, I have had to oppose, by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been most deeply interested;—and it has not been only once;—I have had her hopes and exultation to listen to again and again.— I have known myself to be divided from Edward for ever, without hearing one circumstance that could make me less desire the connection.—Nothing has proved him unworthy; nor has anything declared him indifferent to me.— I have had to contend against the unkindness of his sister, and the insolence of his mother; and have suffered the punishment of an attachment, without enjoying its advantages.— And all this has been going on at a time, when, as you know too well, it has not been my only unhappiness.— If you can think me capable of ever feeling—surely you may suppose that I have suffered now. The composure of mind with which I have brought myself at present to consider the matter, the consolation that I have been willing to admit, have been the effect of constant and painful exertion;—they did not spring up of themselves;—they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first.— No, Marianne.—Then, if I had not been bound to silence, perhaps nothing could have kept me entirely—not even what I owed to my dearest friends—from openly shewing that I was very unhappy."—

Marianne was quite subdued.—

"Oh! Elinor," she cried, "you have made me hate myself for ever.—How barbarous have I been to you!—you, who have been my only comfort, who have borne with me in all my misery, who have seemed to be only suffering for me!—Is this my gratitude?—Is this the only return I can make you?—Because your merit cries out upon myself, I have been trying to do it away."

The tenderest caresses followed this confession. In such a frame of mind as she was now in, Elinor had no difficulty in obtaining from her whatever promise she required; and at her request, Marianne engaged never to speak of the affair to any one with the least appearance of bitterness;—to meet Lucy without betraying the smallest increase of dislike to her;—and even to see Edward himself, if chance should bring them together, without any diminution of her usual cordiality.— These were great concessions;—but where Marianne felt that she had injured, no reparation could be too much for her to make.

She performed her promise of being discreet, to admiration.—She attended to all that Mrs. Jennings had to say upon the subject, with an unchanging complexion, dissented from her in nothing, and was heard three times to say, "Yes, ma'am."—She listened to her praise of Lucy with only moving from one chair to another, and when Mrs. Jennings talked of Edward's affection, it cost her only a spasm in her throat.—Such advances towards heroism in her sister, made Elinor feel equal to any thing herself.

The next morning brought a farther trial of it, in a visit from their brother, who came with a most serious aspect to talk over the dreadful affair, and bring them news of his wife.

"You have heard, I suppose," said he with great solemnity, as soon as he was seated, "of the very shocking discovery that took place under our roof yesterday."

They all looked their assent; it seemed too awful a moment for speech.

"Your sister," he continued, "has suffered dreadfully. Mrs. Ferrars too—in short it has been a scene of such complicated distress—but I will hope that the storm may be weathered without our being any of us quite overcome. Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday. But I would not alarm you too much. Donavan says there is nothing materially to be apprehended; her constitution is a good one, and her resolution equal to any thing. She has borne it all, with the fortitude of an angel! She says she never shall think well of anybody again; and one cannot wonder at it, after being so deceived!—meeting with such ingratitude, where so much kindness had been shewn, so much confidence had been placed! It was quite out of the benevolence of her heart, that she had asked these young women to her house; merely because she thought they deserved some attention, were harmless, well-behaved girls, and would be pleasant companions; for otherwise we both wished very much to have invited you and Marianne to be with us, while your kind friend there, was attending her daughter. And now to be so rewarded! 'I wish, with all my heart,' says poor Fanny in her affectionate way, 'that we had asked your sisters instead of them.'"

Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done, he went on.

"What poor Mrs. Ferrars suffered, when first Fanny broke it to her, is not to be described. While she with the truest affection had been planning a most eligible connection for him, was it to be supposed that he could be all the time secretly engaged to another person!—such a suspicion could never have entered her head! If she suspected ANY prepossession elsewhere, it could not be in THAT quarter. 'THERE, to be sure,' said she, 'I might have thought myself safe.' She was quite in an agony. We consulted together, however, as to what should be done, and at last she determined to send for Edward. He came. But I am sorry to relate what ensued. All that Mrs. Ferrars could say to make him put an end to the engagement, assisted too as you may well suppose by my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties, was of no avail. Duty, affection, every thing was disregarded. I never thought Edward so stubborn, so unfeeling before. His mother explained to him her liberal designs, in case of his marrying Miss Morton; told him she would settle on him the Norfolk estate, which, clear of land-tax, brings in a good thousand a-year; offered even, when matters grew desperate, to make it twelve hundred; and in opposition to this, if he still persisted in this low connection, represented to him the certain penury that must attend the match. His own two thousand pounds she protested should be his all; she would never see him again; and so far would she be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if he were to enter into any profession with a view of better support, she would do all in her power to prevent him advancing in it."

Here Marianne, in an ecstasy of indignation, clapped her hands together, and cried, "Gracious God! can this be possible!"

"Well may you wonder, Marianne," replied her brother, "at the obstinacy which could resist such arguments as these. Your exclamation is very natural."

Marianne was going to retort, but she remembered her promises, and forbore.

"All this, however," he continued, "was urged in vain. Edward said very little; but what he did say, was in the most determined manner. Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement. He would stand to it, cost him what it might."

"Then," cried Mrs. Jennings with blunt sincerity, no longer able to be silent, "he has acted like an honest man! I beg your pardon, Mr. Dashwood, but if he had done otherwise, I should have thought him a rascal. I have some little concern in the business, as well as yourself, for Lucy Steele is my cousin, and I believe there is not a better kind of girl in the world, nor one who more deserves a good husband."

John Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his nature was calm, not open to provocation, and he never wished to offend anybody, especially anybody of good fortune. He therefore replied, without any resentment,

"I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any relation of yours, madam. Miss Lucy Steele is, I dare say, a very deserving young woman, but in the present case you know, the connection must be impossible. And to have entered into a secret engagement with a young man under her uncle's care, the son of a woman especially of such very large fortune as Mrs. Ferrars, is perhaps, altogether a little extraordinary. In short, I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any person whom you have a regard for, Mrs. Jennings. We all wish her extremely happy; and Mrs. Ferrars's conduct throughout the whole, has been such as every conscientious, good mother, in like circumstances, would adopt. It has been dignified and liberal. Edward has drawn his own lot, and I fear it will be a bad one."

Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension; and Elinor's heart wrung for the feelings of Edward, while braving his mother's threats, for a woman who could not reward him.

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Jennings, "and how did it end?"

"I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy rupture:— Edward is dismissed for ever from his mother's notice. He left her house yesterday, but where he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do not know; for WE of course can make no inquiry."

"Poor young man!—and what is to become of him?"

"What, indeed, ma'am! It is a melancholy consideration. Born to the prospect of such affluence! I cannot conceive a situation more deplorable. The interest of two thousand pounds—how can a man live on it?—and when to that is added the recollection, that he might, but for his own folly, within three months have been in the receipt of two thousand, five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton has thirty thousand pounds,) I cannot picture to myself a more wretched condition. We must all feel for him; and the more so, because it is totally out of our power to assist him."

"Poor young man!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "I am sure he should be very welcome to bed and board at my house; and so I would tell him if I could see him. It is not fit that he should be living about at his own charge now, at lodgings and taverns."

Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward, though she could not forbear smiling at the form of it.

"If he would only have done as well by himself," said John Dashwood, "as all his friends were disposed to do by him, he might now have been in his proper situation, and would have wanted for nothing. But as it is, it must be out of anybody's power to assist him. And there is one thing more preparing against him, which must be worse than all—his mother has determined, with a very natural kind of spirit, to settle THAT estate upon Robert immediately, which might have been Edward's, on proper conditions. I left her this morning with her lawyer, talking over the business."

"Well!" said Mrs. Jennings, "that is her revenge. Everybody has a way of their own. But I don't think mine would be, to make one son independent, because another had plagued me."

Marianne got up and walked about the room.

"Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man," continued John, "than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might have been his own? Poor Edward! I feel for him sincerely."

A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion, concluded his visit; and with repeated assurances to his sisters that he really believed there was no material danger in Fanny's indisposition, and that they need not therefore be very uneasy about it, he went away; leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sentiments on the present occasion, as far at least as it regarded Mrs. Ferrars's conduct, the Dashwoods', and Edward's.

Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he quitted the room; and as her vehemence made reserve impossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in Mrs. Jennings, they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the party.



　　帕尔默夫人产后已满两周，身体状况很好，她母亲认为没有必要再把全部时间都泡在她身上，每天来探视一两次也就足够了。于是，结束了前一段的护理，回到家里，恢复了以前的生活习惯。她发现，达什伍德家两位小姐很想再度分享先前的乐趣。
　　她们妹妹回到伯克利街大约过了三四天的一个上午，詹宁斯太太去看望帕尔默夫人刚回来，见埃丽诺独自坐在客厅里，便急急匆勿、神气十足地走了进去，好让她觉得又要听到什么奇闻了。她只给她转出这个念头的时间，接着马上证实说：
　　“天哪！亲爱的达什伍德小姐！你有没有听到这个消息？”
　　“没有，太太。什么消息？”
　　“好奇怪的事情！不过我会全告诉你的。我刚才到帕尔默先生家里，发现夏洛特为孩子急坏了。她一口咬定孩子病得厉害——孩子哭呀，闹呀，浑身都是丘疹。我当即一瞧，就说：‘天哪！亲爱的，这不是丘疹性寻麻疹才怪呢！’护士也是这么说的，可是夏洛特不肯相信，于是去请多纳万先生。幸亏他刚从哈利街回来，马上就赶来了。他一见到孩子，说的和我说的一模一样，就是丘疹性寻麻疹，夏洛特这才放心。多纳万先生刚想走，我也不知道怎么搞的，居然想起来问他有没有什么消息。他听了得意地傻笑了，然后摆出一副一本正经的神气，看样子像是了解什么秘密似的。最后他小声说道：‘由于担心你们照应的两位小姐得知嫂嫂身体欠安的消息会感到难过，我最好这么说：我认为没有理由大惊小怪，希望达什伍德夫人平安无事。’”
　　“什么？范妮病了！”
　　“我当时也是这么说的，亲爱的。‘天哪！’我说，‘达什伍德夫人病了？’接着，全都真相大白了。据我了解，事情大概是这样的：爱德华．费拉斯先生，也就是我常常常来取笑你的那位少爷（不过我很高兴，事实证明这些玩笑毫无根据），看来，这位爱德华．费拉斯先生与我表侄女露西订婚已经一年多了。你看，亲爱的，竟有这种事！除了南希，别人居然一点不知道！你能相信会有这种事吗？他们两人相爱，这倒不奇怪。但是事情闹到这个地步，竟然没有引起任何人的猜疑！这也就怪啦！我从来没有看见他们在一起过，不然我肯定马上就能看出苗头。你瞧，他们由于害怕费拉斯太太，就绝对保守秘密。直到今天早晨，一直没有引起他母亲和你哥嫂的丝毫怀疑。到了今天早晨，可怜的南希，你知道她本是个好心人，可就是没长心眼，一股脑儿全给捅出来了。‘天哪！’她自言自语地说，‘她们都这么喜欢露西，将来肯定不会从中刁难啦。’说罢，赶忙跑到你嫂子跟前。你嫂子正独自一个人坐在那儿织地毯，压根儿没想到会出什么事——她五分钟前还在对你哥哥说，她想让爱德华和某某勋爵的女儿配成一对，我忘了是哪位勋爵。因此你可以想象，这对你嫂子的虚荣心和自尊心是多么沉重的打击。她顿时歇斯底里大发作，一个劲地尖声叫喊。你哥哥坐在楼下化妆室里，想给他乡下的管家写封信。听到尖叫声，飞身上楼，随即发生了一个可怕的情景，因为当时露西正好来了，她一点也不知道出了什么事。可怜的人儿！我真可怜她。应该说，我认为她受到了十分无情的对待；因为你嫂子发狂似地破口大骂，露西当即昏厥过去。南希跪在地上，失声痛哭。你哥哥在房里跪来胁去，说他不知道该怎么办。达什伍德夫人宣称，詹宁斯太太说到这里停住了。好在埃丽诺有足够的时间定定心，因而还能合乎情理地做出回答，谈点看法。她高兴地发现，詹宁斯太太并没怀疑她对此事特别感兴趣。而且像她最近常常希望的那样，这位太太不再认为她还眷恋着爱德华。而最使她感到高兴的是，因为玛丽安不在场，她觉得自己完全可以不露窘态地谈论这件事，并且认为，对与这件事有关的每个人的行为，完全可以不抱任何偏见地做出判断。
　　到底如何预期事情的结局，她简直捉摸不定，虽然她千方百计地想打消这样的念头，即事情不是以爱德华和露西的结婚告终，而可能出现别的结局。她急切地想知道费拉斯太太会怎么说，怎么办，尽管这本是无可怀疑的事情。她还更加急切地想知道爱德华会如何反应。对于他，她深感同情。对于露西，她只有一点点同情——而这一点点同情还是她好不容易从心窝里挤出来的。对于有关的其他人，她丝毫也不同情。
　　由于詹宁斯太太没有别的事情好谈，埃丽诺很快认识到，有必要使玛丽安做好谈论这件事的思想准备。不能再蒙骗她了，要立即向她说明事实真相，尽力使她在听别人谈论的时候，不要露出为姐姐担忧、对爱德华不满的神情。
　　埃丽诺要做的是件痛苦的事情。她将搞掉的，她确信是她妹妹的主要精神慰藉；详细叙说一下爱德华的情况，这恐怕会永远毁坏她对他的良好印象。另外，在玛丽安看来，她们姐妹俩的遭遇极其相似，这也会重新勾起她自己的失望情绪。但是，尽管事情令人不快，还得照办不误，于是埃丽诺赶忙执行任务去了。
　　她绝不想多谈她自己的情感，不想多谈她自己如何痛苦，因为她从第一次获悉爱德华订婚以来所采取的克制态度，可以启迪玛丽安怎么办才比较现实。她说得简单明了，虽说没法做到不动感情，她还是没有过于激动，过于悲伤。真正激动、悲伤的倒是听的人，因为玛丽安惊骇地听着，痛哭不止。埃丽诺倒成了别人的安慰者：妹妹痛苦的时候她要安慰她，她自己痛苦的时候她还得安慰她。她甘愿主动地安慰她，一再保证说她心里很坦然，并且苦口婆心地替爱德华开脱罪责，只承认他有些轻率。
　　但是，玛丽安眼下不肯相信那两个人。爱德华好像是第二个威洛比。她像埃丽诺一样，明知她曾经真心实意地爱过他，这怎么能叫她心里感到好受呢！至于露西．斯蒂尔，她认为她一点也不可爱。一个有理智的男人根本不可能爱上她。因此，爱德华先前钟情于她，始而使她无法置信，继而使她无法谅解。她甚至不愿承认这本是很自然的事情。埃丽诺只好让她通过对世人的进一步了解，来认识事情的必然性，只有这样才能使她信服。
　　埃丽诺在第一次交谈中，只谈到订婚这件事以及订婚多长时间了。这时玛丽安心里实在忍受不了，打断了姐姐有条不紊的详细叙述。一时间，埃丽诺只能设法减轻她的痛苦，使她不要那么大惊小怪，满腹怨恨。玛丽安提出的第一个问题又引出了更多的细枝未节：
　　“埃丽诺，这个情况你知道有多久了？他给你写过信没有？”
　　“我知道有四个月了。露西去年十一月初次来巴顿庄园时，私下告诉我她已订了婚。”
　　听了这话，玛丽安嘴里没说，目光里却流露出十分惊讶的神气。她诧异地顿了顿，然后惊叹道：
　　“四个月！这事你已知道四个月啦？”
　　埃丽诺肯定了这一点。
　　“什么！我遭到不幸你来照料我的时候，原来自己也有这种伤心事儿？而我还责备你快活呢！”
　　“实际情况恰恰相反，但是当时还不便于让你知道。”
　　“四个月！”玛丽安再次嚷道，“这么镇定！这么乐观！你怎么忍得住啊？”
　　“我觉得我在尽我的本分。我向露西许过诺，一定要保守秘密。因此，我要向她负责，不能透露一点风声；我还要向我的亲友负责，不让他们为我担忧，我无法告诉他们事实真相。”
　　玛丽安似乎大为感动。
　　“我常想别再让你和母亲蒙在鼓里，”埃丽诺接着说，“我试过一两次，但是，要想让你们相信，你势必要违背自己的谎言。”
　　“四个月！可你还爱着他！”
　　“是的。当时，我不单单爱他，还生怕引起亲友的不安，宁愿不让大家知道我有多么难过。现在，无论想起这件事，还是谈起这件事，我都可以做到无动于衷。我不想让你们为我受苦，我可以向你保证，我已经不再过于悲痛了。我有很多可以聊以自慰的地方。我知道，这次失意决不是由于我自己的轻率引起的，而且我一直尽量忍着，没有宣扬出去。我还替爱德华开脱，说他没有什么大不了的过错。我希望他非常幸福，确信他一贯很尽职，现在虽说可能有点悔恨，最终一定会幸福的。露西并不缺乏理智，这是造成美满姻缘的基础。无论如何，玛丽安，尽管有关对象专一、始终不渝的爱情的概念十妥迷惑人，尽管人们可以说一个人的幸福完全依赖于某一个人，但是这并不意味应该如此－－那是不恰当，不可能的。爱德华要娶露西。他要娶一个才貌胜过半数女性的女人。随着时间的推移、习性的改变，他以后会忘记，他曾经认为有人比她强。”
　　“如果你这样思考问题，”玛丽安说，“如果失去最珍贵的东西可以如此轻易地用别的东西加以弥补，那么你的坚韧不拔和自我克制也许就不足怪了。这就让我更容易理解了。”
　　“我明白你的意思。你以为我一直无所谓似的。玛丽安，这四个月以来，这桩事一直坠在我的心上，我不能随意向任何一个人倾诉。我知道，一旦和向你和母亲作解释，非但不会让你们做好任何思想准备，反而会引起你们的极大痛苦。告诉我这件事的－－而且是强迫我听的，就是先前同爱德华订过婚，毁了我一生前程的那个人。我觉得，她是带着洋洋得意的神气告诉我的。这人对我有疑心，我只好和她对着来，当她讲到我最感兴趣的地方，我偏偏装出似听非听的样子。这事还不止发生过一次，我要三番五次地听好叙说她如何满怀希望，如何欣喜若狂。我知道我与爱德华永远
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Chapter Thirty-eight

Mrs. Jennings was very warm in her praise of Edward's conduct, but only Elinor and Marianne understood its true merit. THEY only knew how little he had had to tempt him to be disobedient, and how small was the consolation, beyond the consciousness of doing right, that could remain to him in the loss of friends and fortune. Elinor gloried in his integrity; and Marianne forgave all his offences in compassion for his punishment. But though confidence between them was, by this public discovery, restored to its proper state, it was not a subject on which either of them were fond of dwelling when alone. Elinor avoided it upon principle, as tending to fix still more upon her thoughts, by the too warm, too positive assurances of Marianne, that belief of Edward's continued affection for herself which she rather wished to do away; and Marianne's courage soon failed her, in trying to converse upon a topic which always left her more dissatisfied with herself than ever, by the comparison it necessarily produced between Elinor's conduct and her own.

She felt all the force of that comparison; but not as her sister had hoped, to urge her to exertion now; she felt it with all the pain of continual self-reproach, regretted most bitterly that she had never exerted herself before; but it brought only the torture of penitence, without the hope of amendment. Her mind was so much weakened that she still fancied present exertion impossible, and therefore it only dispirited her more.

Nothing new was heard by them, for a day or two afterwards, of affairs in Harley Street, or Bartlett's Buildings. But though so much of the matter was known to them already, that Mrs. Jennings might have had enough to do in spreading that knowledge farther, without seeking after more, she had resolved from the first to pay a visit of comfort and inquiry to her cousins as soon as she could; and nothing but the hindrance of more visitors than usual, had prevented her going to them within that time.

The third day succeeding their knowledge of the particulars, was so fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens, though it was only the second week in March. Mrs. Jennings and Elinor were of the number; but Marianne, who knew that the Willoughbys were again in town, and had a constant dread of meeting them, chose rather to stay at home, than venture into so public a place.

An intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Jennings joined them soon after they entered the Gardens, and Elinor was not sorry that by her continuing with them, and engaging all Mrs. Jennings's conversation, she was herself left to quiet reflection. She saw nothing of the Willoughbys, nothing of Edward, and for some time nothing of anybody who could by any chance whether grave or gay, be interesting to her. But at last she found herself with some surprise, accosted by Miss Steele, who, though looking rather shy, expressed great satisfaction in meeting them, and on receiving encouragement from the particular kindness of Mrs. Jennings, left her own party for a short time, to join their's. Mrs. Jennings immediately whispered to Elinor,

"Get it all out of her, my dear. She will tell you any thing if you ask. You see I cannot leave Mrs. Clarke."

It was lucky, however, for Mrs. Jennings's curiosity and Elinor's too, that she would tell any thing WITHOUT being asked; for nothing would otherwise have been learnt.

"I am so glad to meet you;" said Miss Steele, taking her familiarly by the arm—"for I wanted to see you of all things in the world." And then lowering her voice, "I suppose Mrs. Jennings has heard all about it. Is she angry?"

"Not at all, I believe, with you."

"That is a good thing. And Lady Middleton, is SHE angry?"

"I cannot suppose it possible that she should."

"I am monstrous glad of it. Good gracious! I have had such a time of it! I never saw Lucy in such a rage in my life. She vowed at first she would never trim me up a new bonnet, nor do any thing else for me again, so long as she lived; but now she is quite come to, and we are as good friends as ever. Look, she made me this bow to my hat, and put in the feather last night. There now, YOU are going to laugh at me too. But why should not I wear pink ribbons? I do not care if it IS the Doctor's favourite colour. I am sure, for my part, I should never have known he DID like it better than any other colour, if he had not happened to say so. My cousins have been so plaguing me! I declare sometimes I do not know which way to look before them."

She had wandered away to a subject on which Elinor had nothing to say, and therefore soon judged it expedient to find her way back again to the first.

"Well, but Miss Dashwood," speaking triumphantly, "people may say what they chuse about Mr. Ferrars's declaring he would not have Lucy, for it is no such thing I can tell you; and it is quite a shame for such ill-natured reports to be spread abroad. Whatever Lucy might think about it herself, you know, it was no business of other people to set it down for certain."

"I never heard any thing of the kind hinted at before, I assure you," said Elinor.

"Oh, did not you? But it WAS said, I know, very well, and by more than one; for Miss Godby told Miss Sparks, that nobody in their senses could expect Mr. Ferrars to give up a woman like Miss Morton, with thirty thousand pounds to her fortune, for Lucy Steele that had nothing at all; and I had it from Miss Sparks myself. And besides that, my cousin Richard said himself, that when it came to the point he was afraid Mr. Ferrars would be off; and when Edward did not come near us for three days, I could not tell what to think myself; and I believe in my heart Lucy gave it up all for lost; for we came away from your brother's Wednesday, and we saw nothing of him not all Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and did not know what was become of him. Once Lucy thought to write to him, but then her spirits rose against that. However this morning he came just as we came home from church; and then it all came out, how he had been sent for Wednesday to Harley Street, and been talked to by his mother and all of them, and how he had declared before them all that he loved nobody but Lucy, and nobody but Lucy would he have. And how he had been so worried by what passed, that as soon as he had went away from his mother's house, he had got upon his horse, and rid into the country, some where or other; and how he had stayed about at an inn all Thursday and Friday, on purpose to get the better of it. And after thinking it all over and over again, he said, it seemed to him as if, now he had no fortune, and no nothing at all, it would be quite unkind to keep her on to the engagement, because it must be for her loss, for he had nothing but two thousand pounds, and no hope of any thing else; and if he was to go into orders, as he had some thoughts, he could get nothing but a curacy, and how was they to live upon that?—He could not bear to think of her doing no better, and so he begged, if she had the least mind for it, to put an end to the matter directly, and leave him shift for himself. I heard him say all this as plain as could possibly be. And it was entirely for HER sake, and upon HER account, that he said a word about being off, and not upon his own. I will take my oath he never dropt a syllable of being tired of her, or of wishing to marry Miss Morton, or any thing like it. But, to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking; so she told him directly (with a great deal about sweet and love, you know, and all that—Oh, la! one can't repeat such kind of things you know)—she told him directly, she had not the least mind in the world to be off, for she could live with him upon a trifle, and how little so ever he might have, she should be very glad to have it all, you know, or something of the kind. So then he was monstrous happy, and talked on some time about what they should do, and they agreed he should take orders directly, and they must wait to be married till he got a living. And just then I could not hear any more, for my cousin called from below to tell me Mrs. Richardson was come in her coach, and would take one of us to Kensington Gardens; so I was forced to go into the room and interrupt them, to ask Lucy if she would like to go, but she did not care to leave Edward; so I just run up stairs and put on a pair of silk stockings and came off with the Richardsons."

"I do not understand what you mean by interrupting them," said Elinor; "you were all in the same room together, were not you?"

"No, indeed, not us. La! Miss Dashwood, do you think people make love when any body else is by? Oh, for shame!—To be sure you must know better than that. (Laughing affectedly.)—No, no; they were shut up in the drawing-room together, and all I heard was only by listening at the door."

"How!" cried Elinor; "have you been repeating to me what you only learnt yourself by listening at the door? I am sorry I did not know it before; for I certainly would not have suffered you to give me particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known yourself. How could you behave so unfairly by your sister?"

"Oh, la! there is nothing in THAT. I only stood at the door, and heard what I could. And I am sure Lucy would have done just the same by me; for a year or two back, when Martha Sharpe and I had so many secrets together, she never made any bones of hiding in a closet, or behind a chimney-board, on purpose to hear what we said."

Elinor tried to talk of something else; but Miss Steele could not be kept beyond a couple of minutes, from what was uppermost in her mind.

"Edward talks of going to Oxford soon," said she; "but now he is lodging at No. —, Pall Mall. What an ill-natured woman his mother is, an't she? And your brother and sister were not very kind! However, I shan't say anything against them to YOU; and to be sure they did send us home in their own chariot, which was more than I looked for. And for my part, I was all in a fright for fear your sister should ask us for the huswifes she had gave us a day or two before; but, however, nothing was said about them, and I took care to keep mine out of sight. Edward have got some business at Oxford, he says; so he must go there for a time; and after THAT, as soon as he can light upon a Bishop, he will be ordained. I wonder what curacy he will get!—Good gracious! (giggling as she spoke) I'd lay my life I know what my cousins will say, when they hear of it. They will tell me I should write to the Doctor, to get Edward the curacy of his new living. I know they will; but I am sure I would not do such a thing for all the world.— 'La!' I shall say directly, 'I wonder how you could think of such a thing? I write to the Doctor, indeed!'"

"Well," said Elinor, "it is a comfort to be prepared against the worst. You have got your answer ready."

Miss Steele was going to reply on the same subject, but the approach of her own party made another more necessary.

"Oh, la! here come the Richardsons. I had a vast deal more to say to you, but I must not stay away from them not any longer. I assure you they are very genteel people. He makes a monstrous deal of money, and they keep their own coach. I have not time to speak to Mrs. Jennings about it myself, but pray tell her I am quite happy to hear she is not in anger against us, and Lady Middleton the same; and if anything should happen to take you and your sister away, and Mrs. Jennings should want company, I am sure we should be very glad to come and stay with her for as long a time as she likes. I suppose Lady Middleton won't ask us any more this bout. Good-by; I am sorry Miss Marianne was not here. Remember me kindly to her. La! if you have not got your spotted muslin on!—I wonder you was not afraid of its being torn."

Such was her parting concern; for after this, she had time only to pay her farewell compliments to Mrs. Jennings, before her company was claimed by Mrs. Richardson; and Elinor was left in possession of knowledge which might feed her powers of reflection some time, though she had learnt very little more than what had been already foreseen and foreplanned in her own mind. Edward's marriage with Lucy was as firmly determined on, and the time of its taking place remained as absolutely uncertain, as she had concluded it would be;—every thing depended, exactly after her expectation, on his getting that preferment, of which, at present, there seemed not the smallest chance.

As soon as they returned to the carriage, Mrs. Jennings was eager for information; but as Elinor wished to spread as little as possible intelligence that had in the first place been so unfairly obtained, she confined herself to the brief repetition of such simple particulars, as she felt assured that Lucy, for the sake of her own consequence, would choose to have known. The continuance of their engagement, and the means that were able to be taken for promoting its end, was all her communication; and this produced from Mrs. Jennings the following natural remark.

"Wait for his having a living!—ay, we all know how THAT will end:—they will wait a twelvemonth, and finding no good comes of it, will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a-year, with the interest of his two thousand pounds, and what little matter Mr. Steele and Mr. Pratt can give her.—Then they will have a child every year! and Lord help 'em! how poor they will be!—I must see what I can give them towards furnishing their house. Two maids and two men, indeed!—as I talked of t'other day.—No, no, they must get a stout girl of all works.— Betty's sister would never do for them NOW."

The next morning brought Elinor a letter by the two-penny post from Lucy herself. It was as follows:

"Bartlett's Building, March.
"I hope my dear Miss Dashwood will excuse the liberty I take of writing to her; but I know your friendship for me will make you pleased to hear such a good account of myself and my dear Edward, after all the troubles we have went through lately, therefore will make no more apologies, but proceed to say that, thank God! though we have suffered dreadfully, we are both quite well now, and as happy as we must always be in one another's love. We have had great trials, and great persecutions, but however, at the same time, gratefully acknowledge many friends, yourself not the least among them, whose great kindness I shall always thankfully remember, as will Edward too, who I have told of it. I am sure you will be glad to hear, as likewise dear Mrs. Jennings, I spent two happy hours with him yesterday afternoon, he would not hear of our parting, though earnestly did I, as I thought my duty required, urge him to it for prudence sake, and would have parted for ever on the spot, would he consent to it; but he said it should never be, he did not regard his mother's anger, while he could have my affections; our prospects are not very bright, to be sure, but we must wait, and hope for the best; he will be ordained shortly; and should it ever be in your power to recommend him to any body that has a living to bestow, am very sure you will not forget us, and dear Mrs. Jennings too, trust she will speak a good word for us to Sir John, or Mr. Palmer, or any friend that may be able to assist us.—Poor Anne was much to blame for what she did, but she did it for the best, so I say nothing; hope Mrs. Jennings won't think it too much trouble to give us a call, should she come this way any morning, 'twould be a great kindness, and my cousins would be proud to know her.—My paper reminds me to conclude; and begging to be most gratefully and respectfully remembered to her, and to Sir John, and Lady Middleton, and the dear children, when you chance to see them, and love to Miss Marianne,

"I am, Lucy."       

As soon as Elinor had finished it, she performed what she concluded to be its writer's real design, by placing it in the hands of Mrs. Jennings, who read it aloud with many comments of satisfaction and praise.

"Very well indeed!—how prettily she writes!—aye, that was quite proper to let him be off if he would. That was just like Lucy.—Poor soul! I wish I COULD get him a living, with all my heart.—She calls me dear Mrs. Jennings, you see. She is a good-hearted girl as ever lived.—Very well upon my word. That sentence is very prettily turned. Yes, yes, I will go and see her, sure enough. How attentive she is, to think of every body!—Thank you, my dear, for shewing it me. It is as pretty a letter as ever I saw, and does Lucy's head and heart great credit."



　　詹宁斯太太对爱德华的行为大加赞扬，然而只有埃丽诺和玛丽安懂得这种行为的真正价值。只有她们知道，爱德华实在没有什么东西可以诱使他违抗母命，到头来失去了朋友，丢掉了财产，除了觉得自己做得对之外，别无其他安慰。埃丽诺为他的刚直不阿感到自豪；玛丽安因他受到了惩罚而怜悯他，宽恕了他的过失。不过，这件事情公开之后，姐妹俩虽说又成了知己，但她们单独在一起时，谁也不愿细谈这件事。埃丽诺原则上尽量避而不谈，因为玛丽安说话太偏激，太武断，总认为爱德华仍然钟情于她。埃丽诺本来希望她打消这个念头，可是玛丽安越说她考虑得越多。不久，玛丽安也失去了勇气，她抓住一个话题力争谈下去，但是拿埃丽诺的行为和她自己的一比较，总是对自己越来越不满意。
　　她感到了这种比较的效力，但是并非像姐姐希望的那样，促使她克制自己。她感到不断自责的百般痛苦，懊恼自己以前从没克制过自己。然而，这仅仅带来懊恼的痛苦，并没带来改过自新的希望。她的意志变得加此脆弱，以致仍然认为现在克制自己是不可能的，因此只落得越发沮丧。
　　尔后一两天，她们没听说哈利街和巴特利特大楼有什么新的动态。不过，虽说大家己经掌握了不少情况，詹宁斯太太不用进一步了解也足够传播一阵子了，但她从一开始就决定尽早去看看她的表侄女，安慰安慰她们，同时问问情况。不巧，这两天客人比往常都多，使她脱不了身。
　　她们获悉详情后的第三天，是个晴朗明丽的星期日，虽然才到三月份的第二周，却为肯辛顿花园招来了许多游客。詹宁斯太太和埃丽诺也夹在其中。但是玛丽安知道威洛比夫妇又来到城里，一直都怕碰见他们，因而宁肯呆在家里，也不愿进这种公共场所。
　　走进花园不久，詹宁斯太太的一位好友也加进来凑热闹，对此，埃丽诺并不感到遗憾，因为有她和她们呆在一起，不停地同詹宁斯太太交谈，她自己倒可以清静地想想心事。她没见到威洛比夫妇，也没见到爱德华，而且有一阵连个凑巧使她感兴趣的人都见不到。无论愉快的还是不愉快的机遇都没有。可是最后，她无意中发现斯蒂尔小姐来到她跟前，带着颇为缅腆的神气，表示见到她们十分高兴。经詹宁斯太太盛情邀请，她暂时离开她的同伙，来到她们之间。詹宁斯太太当即对埃丽诺低声说道：
　　“亲爱的，让她通通说出来。你只要一问，她什么都会告诉你。你看，我不能离开克拉克太太。”
　　幸好，詹宁斯太太和埃丽诺的好奇并非徒然，斯蒂尔小姐根本不用问，什么话都愿意说。不然的话，她们从别人嘴里是听不到这些话的。
　　“我很高兴见到你，”斯蒂尔小姐说，而亲呢地抓住埃丽诺的手臂，“因为我最要紧的就是想见到你。”接着放低声音说，
　　“我想詹宁斯太太都听说了。她生气了吧？”
　　“我想她一点也不生你的气。”
　　“这就好。米德尔顿夫人呢，她生气了吧：”
　　“我认为她不可能生气。”
　　“我太高兴啦。天哪：我心里是什么滋味啊！我从没见过露西这样勃然大怒。她一开始就发誓，她一生一世也不给我装饰一顶新帽子，也不再给我做任何别的事情。不过她现在已经完全恢复了正常，我们又依然如故地成了好朋友。瞧，她为我的帽子打了这个蝴蝶结，昨天晚上还给装饰了羽毛。好啦，你也要嘲笑我了。不过，我为什么就不能扎粉红丝带？我倒不在乎这是不是博士最喜爱的颜色。当然，他若没有亲口说过，我决不会知道他最喜欢这个颜色。我的表妹们真叫我烦恼。我有时候就说，我在她们面前眼睛都不知道往哪里看。”
　　她说着说着扯到了令一个话题上，埃丽诺对此无话可说，因而她觉得最好还是回到第一个话题上。
　　“不过，达什伍德小姐，”斯蒂尔小姐洋洋得意地说，“人们说费拉斯太太曾当众宣布爱德华不要露西了，他们爱怎么说就怎么说，不过说实在的，没有那回事。到处散布这种流言蜚语，真厚颜无耻。不管露西自己怎么看，别人没有权利信以为真。”
　　“说真话，我以前从没听人流露过这种意思，”埃丽诺说。
　　“噢！真的吗？但是我很清楚，确实有人说过，而且不止一个人。戈德比小姐就对斯帕克斯小姐说过：凡是有点理智的人，谁也不会认为费拉斯先生肯放弃像莫顿小姐这样一位有三万镑财产的女子，而去娶—个一无所有的露西．斯蒂尔。这话我是听斯帕克斯小姐亲口说的。况且，我表兄理查德还亲自说过，到了节骨眼上，他担心费拉斯先生会变卦。爱德华有三天没接近我们了，我也说不出自己该怎么想。我从心底里相信，露西己经认定没有希望了，因为我们星期三离开你哥哥家，星期四、五、六整整三天都没见到他，也不知道爱德华怎么样啦。露西一度想给他写信，随即又打消了这个念头。不过，我们今天上午刚从教堂回到家，他就来了，于是事情全搞清楚了。原来，他星期三被叫到哈利街，他母亲一伙找他谈话，他当着她们大家公开宣布：他是非露西不爱，非露西不娶。他被这些事情搞得心烦意乱，一跨出他母亲的门槛便骑上马，跑到了乡下什么地方。星期四、五两天，他呆在一家客栈里，以便消消气。经过再三考虑，他说他现在没有财产，没有一切，再和露西继续保持婚约，似乎太不人道，那要让她跟着受苦了，因为他只有两千镑，没有希望得到别的收入。他想过，去做牧师，即使这祥，也只能捞个副牧师的职位，他们怎么能靠此维持生活呢？一想到露西不能生活得更好些，他就难以忍受，因此他恳求说：露西只要愿意，可以马上终止婚约，让他去独自谋生。这一切我听他说得清清楚楚。他提到解除婚约的事，那完全是看在露西的份上，完全是为露西好，而不是为他自己。我愿发誓，他从没说过厌烦露西，没说过想娶莫顿小姐，诸如此类的话他一句也没说过。不过，露西当然不愿听他那样说，因此她马上对他说（你知道，又把那表示柔情蜜意的话说了一大堆——天哪，这种话你知道是没法重复的）——她马上对他说，她绝对不想解除婚约，只要有点微薄的收入，她就能和他生活下去。不管他只有多么少的一点点钱，她愿意全部掌管起来，反正就是这一类话。这一来，爱德华高兴极了，谈论了一会儿他们该怎么办，最后商定：爱德华应该马上去做牧师，等他得到一份牧师俸禄的时候，他们再结婚。恰在这时，我再也听不见了，因为我表兄在楼下叫我，说是“我不懂你说的‘打断他们’是什么意思，”埃丽诺说，“你们不是一起呆在一个房间里吗？”
　　“当然不！我“怎么！”埃丽诺嚷道，“你说来说去，原来只是在门口听到的？很遗憾，我事先不知道，不然我不会让你来细说这次谈话内容的，因为你自己都是不该知道的嘛。你怎么能对妹妹采取如此不正当的行为？”
　　“啊呀!那没什么。我不过站在门口，能听多少就听多少。我相信，要是换成露西，她准会采取同样的办法对待我。在过去一两年里，我和玛莎．夏普经常有许多私房话要说，她总是毫不顾忌地藏在壁橱里、壁炉板后面，偷听我们说话。”
　　埃丽诺试图谈点别的，但是斯蒂尔小姐一心想着这件事，让她抛开两三分钟都不可能。
　　“爱德华说他不久要去牛津，”她说，“不过他现在寄住在帕尔美尔街一号。他母亲真是个性情乖戾的女人，对吧？你兄嫂也不大厚道：不过，我不能当着你的面说他们的坏话；当然，他们打发自己的马车把我们送回家，这是我没料到的。我当时吓得要命，就怕你嫂嫂向我们要还她头两天送给我们的计肃盒。不过，她没说起这件事，我小心翼翼地把我的针肃盒藏了起来。爱德华说他在牛津有点事，要去一段时间。在那之后，一碰到那位主教，就接受圣职，我真不知道他会得到什么样的圣职！天哪！（边说边吃吃发笑，）我敢以性命打赌，我知道我的表妹们听到后会说什么。她们会对我说，我该给博士写封信，叫他在他新近工作的教区给爱德华找个牧师职位。我知道她们会这么说，不过我当然决不会干这种事。‘哎呀！’我马上会说，‘我不知道你们怎么会想到这种多。当真让我给博士写信！’”
　　“好啊，”埃丽诺说，“有备无患嘛，你把答话都准备好了。”
　　斯蒂尔小姐刚要回答，不想她的同伙们来了，她只好换个话题。
　　“啊呀！理查森夫妇来了，我本来还有许多话要对你说，可是又不能离开他们太久了。老实跟你说吧，他们是很有体面的人。那男的挣好多好多的钱，他们有自己的马车。我没有时间亲自和詹宁斯太太谈谈这件事，不过请你转告她，听说她不生我们的气，还有米德尔顿夫人也是如此，我感到非常高兴。万一你和你妹妹有事要走，我们一定愿意来同她作伴，她要我们呆多久，我们就呆多久。我想，米德尔顿夫人这次不会再叫我们去了。再见。很遗憾，玛丽安小姐不在这里。请代我向她问好。啊呀！你不该穿上这件花斑细洋纱衣服。真奇怪，你也不怕给撕破了。”
　　这就是她临别时所表示的担心。说完这话，她刚刚向詹宁斯太太最后恭维了几句，便被理查森夫人叫走了。埃丽诺从她那儿了解到一些情况，虽说都是她早已预想得到的，倒可以促使她再冥思暇想一阵子。同她推断的情况一样，爱德华要同露西结婚，这是确定无疑的，至于何时举行婚礼，却不能确定。正如她所料，一切取决于他获得那个牧师职位，但这在当前是没有丝毫指望的。
　　她们一回到马车里，詹宁斯太太就迫不及待地打听消息。但是埃丽诺觉得那些消息起先是通过不正当途径窃取的，还是尽量少传播为好，因而她只是敷衍了事地重复了几个简单的情况。她确信，露西为了抬高自己的身价，也愿意让人知道这些情况。他们还继续保持着婚约，以及采取什么办法来达到目的，这是她叙说的全部内容。詹宁斯太太听了之后，自然而然地发出了以下的议论：
　　“等他得到一份牧师俸禄！哎，我们都知道那会是个什么结局。他们等上一年，发现一无所获，到头来只好依赖一年五十镑的牧师俸禄，还有那两千镑所得到的利息，以及斯蒂尔先生和普赖特先生的一点点布施。而且，他们每年要生一个孩子！老天保佑！他们将穷到什么地步！我要看看能送她们点什么，帮他们布置布置家庭。我那天说过，他们当真还能雇用两个女仆、两个男仆！不，不，他们必须雇佣一个身强力壮的站娘，什么活儿都能干。贝蒂的妹妹现在绝对不合适。”
　　第二天上午，邮局给埃丽诺送来一封信，是露西写来的。内容如下：
　　三月写于巴特利特大楼
　　希望亲爱的达什伍德小姐原谅我冒昧地给你写来这封信。不过我知道你对我非常友好，在我们最近遭到这些不幸之时，你一定很愿意听我好好讲讲我自己和我亲爱的爱德华。因此，我不想过多地表示歉意，而倒想这样说：谢天谢地！我们虽然吃尽了苦头，但是现在却都很好，我们相亲相爱，永远都是那样幸福。我们忍受了巨大的磨难和巨大的迫害，但是在这同时，我们又非常感激许多朋友们，其中特别是你。我将永远铭记你的深情厚谊，我还转告了爱德华，他也仍对你铭感终身。我相信，你和亲爱的詹宁斯太太听到下面的情况一定会很高兴：昨天下午，我和他幸福地在一起度过了两个小时。我觉得自已有义务劝说他，便敦促他为了谨慎起见，还是与我断绝关系，假使他同意的话，我愿意当即同他分手。尽管我说得语重心长，可他怎么也不同意。他说我们决不分离，只要我爱他，他就不在乎他母亲发不发火。当然，我们的前景不很光明，但是我们必须等待，要从最好的方面着想。他不久就想去当牧师，你若是有门路的话，能把他举荐给什么人，赐给他个牧师的职位，我知道你准忘不了我们。还有亲爱的詹宁斯太太，我相信她会向约翰爵士、帕尔默先生等一伙能够帮忙的朋友美言我们几句。可怜的安妮不该说那些话，不过她是出于一片好心，所以我也就不再赘述。希望詹宁斯太太哪天上午路过此地时，光临寒舍。这将是莫大的盛情厚谊，我表姐妹仍会很荣幸地结识她。信纸不够了，提醒我就此搁笔。你若有机会见到詹宁斯太太、约翰爵士、米德尔顿夫人以及那些可爱的孩子，请代我向他们问好，向他们转告我的谢忱和敬意，代问玛丽安小姐好。
　　
你的露西        

　　埃丽诺一看完信，就遵照她推想的写信人的真实意图，把信交给了詹宁斯太太。詹宁斯太太一边朗读，一边洋洋得意地赞不绝口。
　　“真是好极了：她写得多动人啊！啊！爱德华假如愿意的话，让他解除婚约倒十分恰当，真不愧是露西呀。可怜的人儿！我衷心地希望，我能替他搞到个牧师的职位。你瞧，她称我为亲爱的詹宁斯太太。她真是天下心肠最好的姑娘。—点不假，千真万确。那句活写得好极了。是的，是的，我肯定要去看她。她考虑得多么周到，把每个人都想到了！亲爱的，谢激你把信拿给我看。这是我见到的写得最动人的一封信，说明露西很有理智，很有情感。” 　
  
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