Sense and Sensibility

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mrs. Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure. She had only

two daughters, both of whom she had lived to see respectably

married, and she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all

the rest of the world. In the promotion of this object she was

zealously active, as far as her ability reached; and missed no

opportunity of projecting weddings among all the young people of

her acquaintance. She was remarkably quick in the discovery of

attachments, and had enjoyed the advantage of raising the blushes

and the vanity of many a young lady by insinuations of her power

over such a young man; and this kind of discernment enabled her

soon after her arrival at Barton decisively to pronounce that

Colonel Brandon was very much in love with Marianne Dashwood. She

rather suspected it to be so, on the very first evening of their

being together, from his listening so attentively while she sang to

them; and when the visit was returned by the Middletons' dining at

the cottage, the fact was ascertained by his listening to her

again. It must be so. She was perfectly convinced of it. It would

be an excellent match, for HE was rich, and SHE was handsome. Mrs.

Jennings had been anxious to see Colonel Brandon well married, ever

since her connection with Sir John first brought him to her

knowledge; and she was always anxious to get a good husband for

every pretty girl.

The immediate advantage to herself was by no means

inconsiderable, for it supplied her with endless jokes against them

both. At the park she laughed at the colonel, and in the cottage at

Marianne. To the former her raillery was probably, as far as it

regarded only himself, perfectly indifferent; but to the latter it

was at first incomprehensible; and when its object was understood,

she hardly knew whether most to laugh at its absurdity, or censure

its impertinence, for she considered it as an unfeeling reflection

on the colonel's advanced years, and on his forlorn condition as an

old bachelor.

Mrs. Dashwood, who could not think a man five years younger than

herself, so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful

fancy of her daughter, ventured to clear Mrs. Jennings from the

probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age.

"But at least, Mamma, you cannot deny the absurdity of the

accusation, though you may not think it intentionally ill-natured.

Colonel Brandon is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he is

old enough to be MY father; and if he were ever animated enough to

be in love, must have long outlived every sensation of the kind. It

is too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe from such wit, if age

and infirmity will not protect him?"

"Infirmity!" said Elinor, "do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I

can easily suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than

to my mother; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having

the use of his limbs!"

"Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? and is not

that the commonest infirmity of declining life?"

"My dearest child," said her mother, laughing, "at this rate you

must be in continual terror of MY decay; and it must seem to you a

miracle that my life has been extended to the advanced age of

forty."

"Mamma, you are not doing me justice. I know very well that

Colonel Brandon is not old enough to make his friends yet

apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature. He may live

twenty years longer. But thirty-five has nothing to do with

matrimony."

"Perhaps," said Elinor, "thirty-five and seventeen had better

not have any thing to do with matrimony together. But if there

should by any chance happen to be a woman who is single at seven

and twenty, I should not think Colonel Brandon's being thirty-five

any objection to his marrying HER."

"A woman of seven and twenty," said Marianne, after pausing a

moment, "can never hope to feel or inspire affection again, and if

her home be uncomfortable, or her fortune small, I can suppose that

she might bring herself to submit to the offices of a nurse, for

the sake of the provision and security of a wife. In his marrying

such a woman therefore there would be nothing unsuitable. It would

be a compact of convenience, and the world would be satisfied. In

my eyes it would be no marriage at all, but that would be nothing.

To me it would seem only a commercial exchange, in which each

wished to be benefited at the expense of the other."

"It would be impossible, I know," replied Elinor, "to convince

you that a woman of seven and twenty could feel for a man of

thirty-five anything near enough to love, to make him a desirable

companion to her. But I must object to your dooming Colonel Brandon

and his wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber, merely

because he chanced to complain yesterday (a very cold damp day) of

a slight rheumatic feel in one of his shoulders."

"But he talked of flannel waistcoats," said Marianne; "and with

me a flannel waistcoat is invariably connected with aches, cramps,

rheumatisms, and every species of ailment that can afflict the old

and the feeble."

"Had he been only in a violent fever, you would not have

despised him half so much. Confess, Marianne, is not there

something interesting to you in the flushed cheek, hollow eye, and

quick pulse of a fever?"

Soon after this, upon Elinor's leaving the room, "Mamma," said

Marianne, "I have an alarm on the subject of illness which I cannot

conceal from you. I am sure Edward Ferrars is not well. We have now

been here almost a fortnight, and yet he does not come. Nothing but

real indisposition could occasion this extraordinary delay. What

else can detain him at Norland?"

"Had you any idea of his coming so soon?" said Mrs. Dashwood. "I

had none. On the contrary, if I have felt any anxiety at all on the

subject, it has been in recollecting that he sometimes showed a

want of pleasure and readiness in accepting my invitation, when I

talked of his coming to Barton. Does Elinor expect him

already?"

"I have never mentioned it to her, but of course she must."

"I rather think you are mistaken, for when I was talking to her

yesterday of getting a new grate for the spare bedchamber, she

observed that there was no immediate hurry for it, as it was not

likely that the room would be wanted for some time."

"How strange this is! what can be the meaning of it! But the

whole of their behaviour to each other has been unaccountable! How

cold, how composed were their last adieus! How languid their

conversation the last evening of their being together! In Edward's

farewell there was no distinction between Elinor and me: it was the

good wishes of an affectionate brother to both. Twice did I leave

them purposely together in the course of the last morning, and each

time did he most unaccountably follow me out of the room. And

Elinor, in quitting Norland and Edward, cried not as I did. Even

now her self-command is invariable. When is she dejected or

melancholy? When does she try to avoid society, or appear restless

and dissatisfied in it?"