Читать книгу Sense and Sensibility / Чувство и чувствительность. Уровень 3 - Джейн Остин, Сет Грэм-Смит - Страница 5

“What a pity it is, Elinor,” said Marianne, “that Edward has no taste for drawing.”

“No taste for drawing!” replied Elinor, “why do you think so? He does not draw himself, indeed, but he has great pleasure in seeing the performances of other people. He distrusts his own judgment, so he is always unwilling to give his opinion on any picture. I hope, Marianne, you do not consider him as deficient in general taste.”

Marianne hardly knew what to say. She did not want to wound the feelings of her sister, and yet to say what she did not believe was impossible. She replied:

“Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your sense of his merits. I have the highest opinion in the world of his goodness and sense. I think him worthy and amiable.”

“I do not perceive,” replied Elinor, with a smile, “how you can express yourself more warmly. Of his sense and his goodness, no one can, I think, be in doubt. He and I have been often together. I have seen a great deal of him, have studied his sentiments and heard his opinion on subjects of literature and taste. I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-informed, enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation correct, and his taste delicate and pure. At first sight, his person can hardly be called handsome, till the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good is perceived. At present, I know him so well, that I think him really handsome; or at least, almost so. And you, Marianne?”

“I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor. When you tell me to love him as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection in his face.”

Elinor started at this declaration. She felt that Edward stood very high in her opinion.

“I do not attempt to deny,” said she, “that I think very highly of him – that I greatly esteem, that I like him.”

“Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment.”

Elinor laughed.

“Excuse me,” said she. “I am by no means assured of his love for me. There are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful. But there are other points to be considered. He is not independent. What his mother really is we cannot know. Edward himself can understand that there will be many difficulties, if he wishes to marry a woman who has not either a great fortune or high rank.”

“And you really are not engaged to him!” said Marianne. “Yet it certainly soon will happen.”

It was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the subject. The longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard. Sometimes she believed it to be no more than friendship.

But his sister was uneasy. She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law on the occasion, talking to her expressively of her brother’s great expectations, of Mrs. Ferrars’s resolution that both her sons could marry very well.

One day a letter was delivered to Mrs. Dashwood. It contained a proposal. It was the offer of a small house, belonging to a relation of her own, a rich gentleman from Devonshire. The letter was from this gentleman himself, and written in the true spirit of friendly accommodation. He understood that she was in need of a dwelling. Though the house he now offered her was merely a cottage, he assured her that everything was good there. He invited her to come with her daughters to Barton Park, the place of his own residence. There she will judge, herself, whether Barton Cottage is comfortable to her. He seemed really anxious to accommodate them and the whole of his letter was written in a friendly style. Her resolution was formed as she read. She instantly wrote Sir John Middleton her acceptance of his proposal; and then hastened to show the letters to her daughters.