Читать книгу Sense and Sensibility / Чувство и чувствительность. Уровень 3 - Джейн Остин, Сет Грэм-Смит - Страница 15

The sudden termination of Colonel Brandon’s visit filled the mind and raised the wonder of Mrs. Jennings for two or three days. She wondered what could be the reason of it.

“Something very melancholy must be the matter, I am sure,” said she. “I saw it in his face. Poor man! I am afraid his circumstances may be bad. I will give anything to know the truth. Perhaps it is about Miss Williams and, I dare say it is, because he looked so conscious when I mentioned her. May be she is ill in town. Or may be his sister is ill at Avignon. Who knows.”

So wondered, so talked Mrs. Jennings. Her opinion varied. Elinor, though she felt really interested in the welfare of Colonel Brandon, did not pay much attention. She was more interested in the extraordinary silence of her sister and Willoughby. As this silence continued, every day made it appear more strange. Why they did not openly acknowledge to her mother and herself, what their behaviour meant, Elinor could not imagine.

She can easily conceive that marriage will not take place tomorrow; for though Willoughby is independent, there is no reason to believe him rich.

Nothing could be more expressive of attachment to them all, than Willoughby’s behaviour. The cottage was considered and loved by him as his home; many hours were spent there.

One evening, about a week after Colonel Brandon left, Mrs. Dashwood mentioned her design of improving the cottage in the spring. He warmly opposed every alteration of the place.

“What!” he exclaimed – “Improve this dear cottage! No. Never! Not a stone must be added to its walls, not an inch to its size!”

“Do not be alarmed,” said Miss Dashwood, “nothing of the kind will be done. My mother will never have money enough to attempt it.”

“I am glad of it,” he cried. “May she always be poor, if she can employ her riches no better.”

“Thank you, Willoughby. But are you really so attached to this place?”

“I am,” said he. “To me it is faultless. I consider it as the only form of building in which happiness is attainable.”

“With dark narrow stairs and a kitchen that smokes, I suppose,” said Elinor.

“Yes,” cried he in the same eager tone, “with all and everything belonging to it. Under such a roof, I may perhaps be happy.”

Mrs. Dashwood looked with pleasure at Marianne.

“Mrs. Dashwood,” added he, “do you really want to spoil this house? You want to rob it of its simplicity by imaginary improvement! This dear parlour in which our acquaintance first began, and in which so many happy hours have been since spent by us together!”

Mrs. Dashwood assured him that no alteration of the kind would be attempted.

“You are a good woman,” he warmly replied. “Your promise makes me easy.”

“Shall we see you tomorrow to dinner?” said Mrs. Dashwood, when he was leaving them. “I do not ask you to come in the morning, for we must walk to the park, to visit Lady Middleton.”

He promised to come by four o’clock.