Chapter 14

by Jane Austen

　　The sudden termination of Colonel Brandon's visitat the park, with his steadiness in concealing its cause,filled the mind, and raised the wonder of Mrs. Jenningsfor two or three days; she was a great wonderer, as everyone must be who takes a very lively interest in all thecomings and goings of all their acquaintance. She wondered,with little intermission what could be the reason of it;was sure there must be some bad news, and thought overevery kind of distress that could have befallen him,with a fixed determination that he should not escapethem all."Something very melancholy must be the matter,I am sure," said she. "I could see it in his face.Poor man! I am afraid his circumstances may be bad.The estate at Delaford was never reckoned more than two thousanda year, and his brother left everything sadly involved.I do think he must have been sent for about money matters,for what else can it be? I wonder whether it is so.I would give anything to know the truth of it. Perhaps itis about Miss Williams and, by the bye, I dare say it is,because he looked so conscious when I mentioned her.May be she is ill in town; nothing in the world more likely,for I have a notion she is always rather sickly.I would lay any wager it is about Miss Williams.It is not so very likely he should be distressed inhis circumstances now, for he is a very prudent man,and to be sure must have cleared the estate by this time.I wonder what it can be! May be his sister is worseat Avignon, and has sent for him over. His setting offin such a hurry seems very like it. Well, I wish him outof all his trouble with all my heart, and a good wife intothe bargain."So wondered, so talked Mrs. Jennings. Her opinionvarying with every fresh conjecture, and all seemingequally probable as they arose. Elinor, though she feltreally interested in the welfare of Colonel Brandon,could not bestow all the wonder on his going so suddenlyaway, which Mrs. Jennings was desirous of her feeling;for besides that the circumstance did not in her opinionjustify such lasting amazement or variety of speculation,her wonder was otherwise disposed of. It was engossedby the extraordinary silence of her sister and Willoughbyon the subject, which they must know to be peculiarlyinteresting to them all. As this silence continued,every day made it appear more strange and more incompatiblewith the disposition of both. Why they should not openlyacknowledge to her mother and herself, what their constantbehaviour to each other declared to have taken place,Elinor could not imagine.She could easily conceive that marriage might notbe immediately in their power; for though Willoughbywas independent, there was no reason to believe him rich.His estate had been rated by Sir John at about six or sevenhundred a year; but he lived at an expense to which that incomecould hardly be equal, and he had himself often complainedof his poverty. But for this strange kind of secrecymaintained by them relative to their engagement, whichin fact concealed nothing at all, she could not account;and it was so wholly contradictory to their generalopinions and practice, that a doubt sometimes enteredher mind of their being really engaged, and this doubtwas enough to prevent her making any inquiry of Marianne.Nothing could be more expressive of attachmentto them all, than Willoughby's behaviour. To Marianneit had all the distinguishing tenderness which a lover'sheart could give, and to the rest of the family it was theaffectionate attention of a son and a brother. The cottageseemed to be considered and loved by him as his home;many more of his hours were spent there than at Allenham;and if no general engagement collected them at the park,the exercise which called him out in the morning wasalmost certain of ending there, where the rest of the daywas spent by himself at the side of Marianne, and by hisfavourite pointer at her feet.One evening in particular, about a week afterColonel Brandon left the country, his heart seemedmore than usually open to every feeling of attachmentto the objects around him; and on Mrs. Dashwood'shappening to mention her design of improving the cottagein the spring, he warmly opposed every alterationof a place which affection had established as perfect with him."What!" he exclaimed--"Improve this dear cottage!No. That I will never consent to. Not a stone mustbe added to its walls, not an inch to its size,if my feelings are regarded.""Do not be alarmed," said Miss Dashwood,"nothing of the kind will be done; for my motherwill never have money enough to attempt it.""I am heartily glad of it", he cried. "May shealways be poor, if she can employ her riches no better.""Thank you, Willoughby. But you may be assured that Iwould not sacrifice one sentiment of local attachmentof yours, or of any one whom I loved, for all the improvementsin the world. Depend upon it that whatever unemployedsum may remain, when I make up my accounts in the spring,I would even rather lay it uselessly by than disposeof it in a manner so painful to you. But are you reallyso attached to this place as to see no defect in it?""I am," said he. "To me it is faultless. Nay, more,I consider it as the only form of building in which happinessis attainable, and were I rich enough I would instantly pullCombe down, and build it up again in the exact plan of thiscottage.""With dark narrow stairs and a kitchen that smokes,I suppose," said Elinor."Yes," cried he in the same eager tone, "with alland every thing belonging to it;--in no one convenienceor inconvenience about it, should the least variationbe perceptible. Then, and then only, under such a roof, Imight perhaps be as happy at Combe as I have been at Barton.""I flatter myself," replied Elinor, "that even underthe disadvantage of better rooms and a broader staircase,you will hereafter find your own house as faultless as younow do this.""There certainly are circumstances," said Willoughby,"which might greatly endear it to me; but this place willalways have one claim of my affection, which no other canpossibly share."Mrs. Dashwood looked with pleasure at Marianne,whose fine eyes were fixed so expressively on Willoughby,as plainly denoted how well she understood him."How often did I wish," added he, "when I was atAllenham this time twelvemonth, that Barton cottage wereinhabited! I never passed within view of it without admiringits situation, and grieving that no one should live in it.How little did I then think that the very first newsI should hear from Mrs. Smith, when I next came intothe country, would be that Barton cottage was taken: and Ifelt an immediate satisfaction and interest in the event,which nothing but a kind of prescience of what happiness Ishould experience from it, can account for. Must it not havebeen so, Marianne?" speaking to her in a lowered voice.Then continuing his former tone, he said, "And yet thishouse you would spoil, Mrs. Dashwood? You would rob itof its simplicity by imaginary improvement! and this dearparlour in which our acquaintance first began, and in whichso many happy hours have been since spent by us together,you would degrade to the condition of a common entrance,and every body would be eager to pass through the roomwhich has hitherto contained within itself more realaccommodation and comfort than any other apartment ofthe handsomest dimensions in the world could possibly afford."Mrs. Dashwood again assured him that no alterationof the kind should be attempted."You are a good woman," he warmly replied."Your promise makes me easy. Extend it a little farther,and it will make me happy. Tell me that not only yourhouse will remain the same, but that I shall ever findyou and yours as unchanged as your dwelling; and that youwill always consider me with the kindness which has madeeverything belonging to you so dear to me."The promise was readily given, and Willoughby'sbehaviour during the whole of the evening declaredat once his affection and happiness."Shall we see you tomorrow to dinner?" said Mrs. Dashwood,when he was leaving them. "I do not ask you to come inthe morning, for we must walk to the park, to call on LadyMiddleton."He engaged to be with them by four o'clock.