Pride and Prejudice; Sense and Sensibility

Chapter 82 Unexpected visitor
It would have seemed absolutely inexcusable to Marianne if she should have been able to sleep the night after parting from Willoughby.If she didn't wake up the next morning feeling more in need of rest than when she went to bed, she would feel ashamed to see her family again.The more she regarded her composure as a shame, the more she could not keep her composure.She stayed up all night and cried most of the time.When she got up, she felt a headache, could not speak, and did not want to eat. This made her mother and sisters feel sad all the time. No matter how they tried to persuade her, it was useless.Her sentimentality was strong enough!
After breakfast she went out alone, and spent the greater part of the morning in the village of Allenham, brooding over her present misfortunes and recalling her former joys.

At night, she also spent the same mood.She played every favorite song which she used to play to Willoughby; she played every ditty which they used to sing together.Then she sat in front of the piano and gazed at each line of music that Willoughby had copied for her, and as she looked at it, her heart couldn't be more sad.Moreover, she adds to her pain every day in this way.She can sit in front of the piano for hours, singing and crying, crying and singing, often crying.Her reading, like her singing, always sought to bring to mind the pain of the contrast between the present and the past.She read no other books except the ones they had read together in the past.

Indeed, it is difficult for this kind of broken heart to last for a long time.After a few days, her mood gradually eased, and she became just sad.However, she still has to go out for a walk alone every day, meditating silently, and some things will occasionally cause her grief, and as a result, she vents as out of control as before.

There was no letter from Willoughby, nor did Marianne seem to expect to hear from him.The mother was surprised by this, and Eleanor became anxious again.But Mrs. Dashwood could always and everywhere find explanations which at least satisfied herself.

"Remember, Elinor," said she, "that most of our letters are picked up by Sir John himself at the post-office. We have agreed that it is necessary to keep the secrecy. We should admit that if their letters reach John In Jazz's hands, there is no secret."

Eleanor cannot deny this fact, and she tries to find in it a motive for their silence.In this regard, she had a straightforward and simple solution, which she thought was very suitable, and could immediately find out the truth and solve all the mysteries, so she couldn't help bringing it up to her mother.

"Why don't you ask Marianne at once," said she, "if she is really engaged to Willoughby? You are a mother, and you are so kind and forgiving to her that it will not offend her to ask the question." .It is only natural that you should love her so much. She has always been very frank, especially with you."

"I could never ask such a question under any circumstances. What anguish it would cause me to ask if they were not engaged! Anyway, it would be too inconsiderate to do so. She won't say it to anyone just now. If I try to force her to confess, I will never gain her trust again. I know Marianne's heart! I know that she loves me deeply, and if she is willing to reveal the truth once the conditions are ripe, I will never be the last to reveal to me. I don’t want to force anyone to confess to me, especially my own children. speak out."

Elinor felt that, in view of her young age, her mother had been too generous with her, and she urged her mother to ask again, but it was in vain.The rudimentary common sense, the rudimentary solicitude, the rudimentary prudence, were left behind by Mrs. Dashwood's romantic delicacy.

For several days no one of the Dashwoods dared to mention Willoughby's name before Marianne.And Sir John and Mrs. Jennings were not so considerate indeed, and their witticisms had many times aggravated Marianne's heart.One evening, however, Mrs. Dashwood accidentally picked up a Selected Works of Shakespeare, and exclaimed:

"Marian, we never finished Hamlet. Our dear Willoughby left before we finished. We put the book away till he comes back... But that may take several What about the month?"

"Months!" exclaimed Marianne in great surprise. "No—not weeks."

Mrs. Dashwood regretted the remark, but Elinor was glad that it evoked a reply from Marianne which showed her confidence in Willoughby, and understanding of his intentions.

About a week after Willoughby left the country, Marianne was at last persuaded one morning, and instead of slipping away alone, agreed to go for a walk with her sister and sister.In the past, every time she went out to hang out, she always deliberately avoided others.If the sister and sister wanted to take a walk on the high ground, she would always slip away towards the path; if they said they were going to the valley, she would immediately run up the mountain-she had disappeared without a trace before the sisters set off.Eleanor, who disapproved of her avoiding others in this way, finally persuaded her.They walked along the valley all the way, most of the time in silence, partly because Marianne's emotions were still difficult to calm down, and partly because Eleanor was satisfied with the little progress just made and didn't want to go any further. There is more to be desired.At the entrance of the valley, although the soil is still very fertile, it is not so overgrown with weeds, so it looks more open.Outside the entrance, a long road stretched before them. This was the road they took when they first came to Barton.Once at the entrance, they stopped and looked around.When they looked out from the cottage in the past, this was the end of their line of sight.Now they were standing in a place they had never been to in their walks, and they were watching the scenery carefully.

Among these scenes they soon saw a moving object, a man riding towards them on horseback.After a few minutes it became clear to them that the man on horseback was a gentleman.After a while, Marianne exclaimed in ecstasy:
"It's him, it's really him, I knew it was him!" After saying that, she rushed forward, but Eleanor shouted loudly:
"Really, Marianne, I reckon you're delusional. That's not Willoughby. He's not taller than Willoughby, and he doesn't look like him."

"He has, he has," cried Marianne, "he certainly has! His manner, his coat, his horse, I knew he would be back soon."

As she spoke, she couldn't wait to move forward.Eleanor was almost certain that the person who came was not Willoughby. In order not to make Marianne too intimate, she also quickened her pace and chased after her.In an instant they were within thirty yards of the gentleman.Marianne took a closer look, her heart turned cold, and she suddenly turned around and ran back in a hurry.Just as the two sisters raised their voices to her to stop, she heard a voice almost as familiar as Willoughby's, entreating her to stop.Marianne turned around in amazement, and when she saw Edward Ferrars, she hurried forward to welcome him.

At that juncture Edward was the only visitor in all the world whom she could forgive who was not Willoughby, and the only visitor who could win Marianne's smile as she wiped away her tears and smiled at him.Glad for her sister, Marianne for a moment forgot her own disappointment.

Edward jumped off his horse, handed the horse to the servants, and walked with them to Barton.He had come here specially to visit them.

He was very warmly received by all of them, especially by Marianne, who was received even more cordially than Eleanor.Indeed, Marianne had often seen this incredible indifference in their attitude at Norland Manor, and now it seemed to her that this meeting between Edward and his sister was just a continuation of the previous indifference. That's all.Especially Edward, he completely lacked the manners and speech that a lover should have on this occasion.He looked flustered, he didn't seem happy to see them, he looked neither happy nor happy.He was reticent, and only had to answer a few questions correctly when asked, and he showed no particular affection to Eleanor.Marianne was more and more amazed to see and hear all this.She had developed a sort of distaste for Edward, which, like her other affections, ultimately reminded her of Willoughby, whose manners were in stark contrast to that of his future brother-in-law.

After the surprised pleasantries, there was a silence at first, and then Marianne asked Edward if he had come directly from London.No, it turned out that he had been in Devonshire for a fortnight.

"Two weeks!" repeated Marianne, who was astonished that he had been in the same county with Elinor for so long and had not come to see her!

Edward, looking a little uneasy, added that he was near Plymouth and had been staying with a few friends.

"Have you been to Sussex lately?" asked Eleanor.

"I went to Norland Park about a month ago."

"What is the sweetest Nolan estate now?" asked Marianne aloud.

"Lovest Norland Park," said Eleanor, "is about as it always is at this time of year—the woods and roads are thick with dead leaves."

"Oh!" exclaimed Marianne, "I used to be so excited when I saw the leaves falling! It was so pleasant to walk and watch the autumn wind sweeping the fallen leaves, how pleasant it was! At that time, the autumn air was high and fresh, and how deeply it aroused people's feelings." What a pity! Nowadays, no one looks at the fallen leaves anymore. They are just disgusting waste, swept away with a splash, and then swept away by the wind without a trace."

"Not everybody," said Eleanor, "has a passion for fallen leaves as you do."

"Yes, my feelings are not common to people, nor are they often understood by people. However, sometimes people can resonate with me." While speaking, Marianne unconsciously fell into deep thought, and after a while , she woke up again. "Edward," she said, wanting to show him the view, "this is Barton's Valley. Look up, it's so nice, I'm sure you're not excited. Look at those mountains! Have you ever seen such beautiful mountains?" On the left is Barton Hall, set amidst woods and plantations. You can see the house at one end. And there, at the foot of the farthest hill standing tall, is our country house."

"It's a beautiful place," replied Edward, "but these low valleys must be muddy in winter."

"Faced with such a scene, how can you think of mud?"

"Because," he replied, smiling, "I see another very muddy track in the scene before me."

"What a queer fellow!" said Marianne to herself, as they walked.

"Do you get along well with your neighbors here? The Middletons are lovely, right?"

"No, not at all," answered Marianne, "we are in a very bad position."

"Marian," cried her sister, "how can you talk like that? How can you be so unfair? They are a very respectable family, Mr. Ferrars, and have been very friendly to us. Don't you forget, Marianne, How many happy days have they brought us?"

"Not forgotten," whispered Marianne, "nor how many painful moments they have given us." Eleanor ignored the words, focusing only on her guests, thinking Find something to talk to him as best you can.What she talked to him was nothing more than the situation of their present house, its conveniences, etc., and occasionally drew him to ask a question and make a comment.Humiliated by his coldness and reticence, she could not help being annoyed and a little angry.But she decided to keep her attitude in check, so she avoided showing resentment as much as possible, and treated him as she thought a relative should be treated.

(End of this chapter)