Chapter 8

by Jane Austen

　　Mrs. Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure.She had only two daughters, both of whom she had livedto see respectably married, and she had now thereforenothing 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 opportunityof projecting weddings among all the young peopleof her acquaintance. She was remarkably quick in thediscovery of attachments, and had enjoyed the advantageof raising the blushes and the vanity of many a younglady by insinuations of her power over such a young man;and this kind of discernment enabled her soon after herarrival at Barton decisively to pronounce that ColonelBrandon was very much in love with Marianne Dashwood.She rather suspected it to be so, on the very firstevening of their being together, from his listeningso attentively while she sang to them; and when the visitwas 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 shewas handsome. Mrs. Jennings had been anxious to seeColonel Brandon well married, ever since her connectionwith Sir John first brought him to her knowledge;and she was always anxious to get a good husband for everypretty girl.The immediate advantage to herself was by no meansinconsiderable, for it supplied her with endless jokesagainst them both. At the park she laughed at the colonel,and in the cottage at Marianne. To the former herraillery was probably, as far as it regarded only himself,perfectly indifferent; but to the latter it was atfirst 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 anunfeeling 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 yearsyounger than herself, so exceedingly ancient as he appearedto the youthful fancy of her daughter, ventured to clearMrs. Jennings from the probability of wishing to throwridicule on his age."But at least, Mamma, you cannot deny the absurdityof the accusation, though you may not think it intentionallyill-natured. Colonel Brandon is certainly younger thanMrs. 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 Brandoninfirm? I can easily suppose that his age may appear muchgreater to you than to my mother; but you can hardlydeceive 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 beenextended to the advanced age of forty.""Mamma, you are not doing me justice. I know very wellthat Colonel Brandon is not old enough to make his friendsyet apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature.He may live twenty years longer. But thirty-five hasnothing to do with matrimony.""Perhaps," said Elinor, "thirty-five and seventeen hadbetter not have any thing to do with matrimony together.But if there should by any chance happen to be a womanwho is single at seven and twenty, I should not thinkColonel Brandon's being thirty-five any objection to hismarrying her.""A woman of seven and twenty," said Marianne,after pausing a moment, "can never hope to feel or inspireaffection again, and if her home be uncomfortable,or her fortune small, I can suppose that she mightbring 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 benothing unsuitable. It would be a compact of convenience,and the world would be satisfied. In my eyes it wouldbe no marriage at all, but that would be nothing.To me it would seem only a commercial exchange, in whicheach 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 couldfeel for a man of thirty-five anything near enoughto love, to make him a desirable companion to her.But I must object to your dooming Colonel Brandon andhis wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber,merely because he chanced to complain yesterday (avery cold damp day) of a slight rheumatic feel in oneof his shoulders.""But he talked of flannel waistcoats," said Marianne;"and with me a flannel waistcoat is invariably connectedwith aches, cramps, rheumatisms, and every species ofailment that can afflict the old and the feeble.""Had he been only in a violent fever, you would nothave despised him half so much. Confess, Marianne, is notthere 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 subjectof illness which I cannot conceal from you. I am sureEdward Ferrars is not well. We have now been here almosta fortnight, and yet he does not come. Nothing but realindisposition 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 hasbeen in recollecting that he sometimes showed a wantof pleasure and readiness in accepting my invitation,when I talked of his coming to Barton. Does Elinorexpect him already?""I have never mentioned it to her, but of courseshe must.""I rather think you are mistaken, for when Iwas talking to her yesterday of getting a new gratefor the spare bedchamber, she observed that therewas no immediate hurry for it, as it was not likelythat 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 beenunaccountable! How cold, how composed were their lastadieus! How languid their conversation the last eveningof their being together! In Edward's farewell there was nodistinction between Elinor and me: it was the good wishesof an affectionate brother to both. Twice did I leavethem purposely together in the course of the last morning,and each time did he most unaccountably follow me outof 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 tryto avoid society, or appear restless and dissatisfiedin it?"