Chapter 9

by Jane Austen

　　The Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with tolerablecomfort to themselves. The house and the garden, with allthe objects surrounding them, were now become familiar,and the ordinary pursuits which had given to Norlandhalf its charms were engaged in again with far greaterenjoyment than Norland had been able to afford, since theloss of their father. Sir John Middleton, who calledon them every day for the first fortnight, and who wasnot in the habit of seeing much occupation at home,could not conceal his amazement on finding them always employed.Their visitors, except those from Barton Park,were not many; for, in spite of Sir John's urgent entreatiesthat they would mix more in the neighbourhood, and repeatedassurances of his carriage being always at their service,the independence of Mrs. Dashwood's spirit overcame thewish of society for her children; and she was resolutein declining to visit any family beyond the distanceof a walk. There were but few who could be so classed;and it was not all of them that were attainable.About a mile and a half from the cottage, along the narrowwinding valley of Allenham, which issued from that of Barton,as formerly described, the girls had, in one of theirearliest walks, discovered an ancient respectable lookingmansion which, by reminding them a little of Norland,interested their imagination and made them wish to bebetter acquainted with it. But they learnt, on enquiry,that its possessor, an elderly lady of very good character,was unfortunately too infirm to mix with the world,and never stirred from home.The whole country about them abounded in beautiful walks.The high downs which invited them from almost every windowof the cottage to seek the exquisite enjoyment of airon their summits, were a happy alternative when the dirtof the valleys beneath shut up their superior beauties;and towards one of these hills did Marianne and Margaretone memorable morning direct their steps, attracted by thepartial sunshine of a showery sky, and unable longer to bearthe confinement which the settled rain of the two precedingdays had occasioned. The weather was not tempting enoughto draw the two others from their pencil and their book,in spite of Marianne's declaration that the day wouldbe lastingly fair, and that every threatening cloud wouldbe drawn off from their hills; and the two girls set offtogether.They gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their ownpenetration at every glimpse of blue sky; and when theycaught in their faces the animating gales of a highsouth-westerly wind, they pitied the fears which had preventedtheir mother and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations."Is there a felicity in the world," said Marianne,"superior to this?--Margaret, we will walk here at leasttwo hours."Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way againstthe wind, resisting it with laughing delight for abouttwenty minutes longer, when suddenly the clouds united overtheir heads, and a driving rain set full in their face.--Chagrined and surprised, they were obliged, though unwillingly,to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their own house.One consolation however remained for them, to which theexigence of the moment gave more than usual propriety;it was that of running with all possible speed down the steepside of the hill which led immediately to their garden gate.They set off. Marianne had at first the advantage,but a false step brought her suddenly to the ground;and Margaret, unable to stop herself to assist her,was involuntarily hurried along, and reached the bottomin safety.A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointersplaying round him, was passing up the hill and withina few yards of Marianne, when her accident happened.He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. She hadraised herself from the ground, but her foot had beentwisted in her fall, and she was scarcely able to stand.The gentleman offered his services; and perceiving that hermodesty declined what her situation rendered necessary,took her up in his arms without farther delay, and carriedher down the hill. Then passing through the garden,the gate of which had been left open by Margaret, he bore herdirectly into the house, whither Margaret was just arrived,and quitted not his hold till he had seated her in a chairin the parlour.Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement attheir entrance, and while the eyes of both were fixedon him with an evident wonder and a secret admirationwhich equally sprung from his appearance, he apologizedfor his intrusion by relating its cause, in a mannerso frank and so graceful that his person, which wasuncommonly handsome, received additional charms from his voiceand expression. Had he been even old, ugly, and vulgar,the gratitude and kindness of Mrs. Dashwood wouldhave been secured by any act of attention to her child;but the influence of youth, beauty, and elegance,gave an interest to the action which came home to her feelings.She thanked him again and again; and, with a sweetnessof address which always attended her, invited him tobe seated. But this he declined, as he was dirty and wet.Mrs. Dashwood then begged to know to whom she was obliged.His name, he replied, was Willoughby, and his presenthome was at Allenham, from whence he hoped she wouldallow him the honour of calling tomorrow to enquireafter Miss Dashwood. The honour was readily granted,and he then departed, to make himself still more interesting,in the midst of an heavy rain.His manly beauty and more than common gracefulnesswere instantly the theme of general admiration,and the laugh which his gallantry raised against Mariannereceived particular spirit from his exterior attractions.--Marianne herself had seen less of his person that the rest,for the confusion which crimsoned over her face, on hislifting her up, had robbed her of the power of regardinghim after their entering the house. But she had seenenough of him to join in all the admiration of the others,and with an energy which always adorned her praise.His person and air were equal to what her fancy had everdrawn for the hero of a favourite story; and in his carryingher into the house with so little previous formality, therewas a rapidity of thought which particularly recommendedthe action to her. Every circumstance belonging to himwas interesting. His name was good, his residence was intheir favourite village, and she soon found out that of allmanly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming.Her imagination was busy, her reflections were pleasant,and the pain of a sprained ankle was disregarded.Sir John called on them as soon as the next intervalof fair weather that morning allowed him to get outof doors; and Marianne's accident being related to him,he was eagerly asked whether he knew any gentlemanof the name of Willoughby at Allenham."Willoughby!" cried Sir John; "what, is hein the country? That is good news however; I willride over tomorrow, and ask him to dinner on Thursday.""You know him then," said Mrs. Dashwood."Know him! to be sure I do. Why, he is down hereevery year.""And what sort of a young man is he?""As good a kind of fellow as ever lived, I assure you.A very decent shot, and there is not a bolder riderin England.""And is that all you can say for him?" cried Marianne,indignantly. "But what are his manners on more intimateacquaintance? What his pursuits, his talents, and genius?"Sir John was rather puzzled."Upon my soul," said he, "I do not know much about himas to all that. But he is a pleasant, good humoured fellow,and has got the nicest little black bitch of a pointerI ever saw. Was she out with him today?"But Marianne could no more satisfy him as to thecolour of Mr. Willoughby's pointer, than he coulddescribe to her the shades of his mind."But who is he?" said Elinor. "Where does he comefrom? Has he a house at Allenham?"On this point Sir John could give more certain intelligence;and he told them that Mr. Willoughby had no propertyof his own in the country; that he resided there onlywhile he was visiting the old lady at Allenham Court,to whom he was related, and whose possessions he wasto inherit; adding, "Yes, yes, he is very well worthcatching I can tell you, Miss Dashwood; he has a prettylittle estate of his own in Somersetshire besides;and if I were you, I would not give him up to myyounger sister, in spite of all this tumbling down hills.Miss Marianne must not expect to have all the men to herself.Brandon will be jealous, if she does not take care.""I do not believe," said Mrs. Dashwood, with agood humoured smile, "that Mr. Willoughby will be incommodedby the attempts of either of my daughters towards whatyou call catching him. It is not an employment to whichthey have been brought up. Men are very safe with us,let them be ever so rich. I am glad to find, however,from what you say, that he is a respectable young man,and one whose acquaintance will not be ineligible.""He is as good a sort of fellow, I believe,as ever lived," repeated Sir John. "I rememberlast Christmas at a little hop at the park, he dancedfrom eight o'clock till four, without once sitting down.""Did he indeed?" cried Marianne with sparkling eyes,"and with elegance, with spirit?""Yes; and he was up again at eight to ride to covert.""That is what I like; that is what a young man oughtto be. Whatever be his pursuits, his eagerness in themshould know no moderation, and leave him no sense of fatigue.""Aye, aye, I see how it will be," said Sir John, "I seehow it will be. You will be setting your cap at him now,and never think of poor Brandon.""That is an expression, Sir John," said Marianne,warmly, "which I particularly dislike. I abhor everycommon-place phrase by which wit is intended; and 'settingone's cap at a man,' or 'making a conquest,' are the mostodious of all. Their tendency is gross and illiberal;and if their construction could ever be deemed clever,time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity."Sir John did not much understand this reproof;but he laughed as heartily as if he did, and then replied,"Ay, you will make conquests enough, I dare say,one way or other. Poor Brandon! he is quite smitten already,and he is very well worth setting your cap at, I cantell you, in spite of all this tumbling about and sprainingof ankles."