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Chapter 9
The
Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with tolerable comfort to
themselves. The
house and the garden, with all the objects surrounding them,
were now
become familiar, and the ordinary pursuits which had
given to Norland half its charms were engaged in again
with far greater enjoyment than Norland had been able to
afford, since the loss of their father.
Sir John Middleton, who called on them
every day for the first fortnight,
and who was not 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 entreaties that they would mix more in the
neighbourhood, and repeated assurances of his carriage being
always
at their service, the independence of Mrs. Dashwood's
spirit overcame the wish of society for her children; and
she was resolute in declining to visit any family beyond
the distance of 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 narrow winding valley of Allenham, which
issued
from that of Barton, as formerly described, the girls had, in
one of their earliest walks, discovered an ancient
respectable looking mansion which, by reminding them a
little of Norland, interested their imagination and made
them wish to be better 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 window of the cottage to seek the exquisite
enjoyment of air on their summits, were a happy
alternative when the dirt of the valleys beneath shut up their
superior beauties; and towards one of these hills did
Marianne and Margaret one memorable morning direct their
steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of a showery sky, and
unable longer to bear the confinement which the settled rain
of the two preceding days had occasioned.
The weather was not tempting enough to draw
the two others from their pencil
and their book, in spite of Marianne's declaration that
the day would be lastingly fair, and that every
threatening cloud would be drawn off from their hills; and the
two girls set off together.
They
gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own penetration
at every glimpse of blue
sky; and when they caught in their faces the animating
gales of a high south-westerly wind, they pitied the
fears which had prevented their 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 least two hours."
Margaret
agreed, and they pursued their way against the wind, resisting
it with laughing
delight for about twenty minutes longer, when suddenly the
clouds united over their 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 the exigence of the moment gave more than
usual propriety; it was that of running with all possible
speed down the steep side 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 bottom in safety.
A
gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing round him,
was passing up the
hill and within a few yards of Marianne, when her
accident happened. He put down his gun and ran to
her
assistance. She
had raised herself from the ground, but her
foot had been twisted in her fall, and she was
scarcely able to stand. The gentleman offered his services;
and
perceiving that her modesty declined what her situation
rendered necessary, took her up in his arms without farther
delay, and carried her down the hill.
Then passing through the garden, the gate
of which had been left open by
Margaret, he bore her directly into the house, whither
Margaret was just arrived, and quitted not his hold till he
had
seated her in a chair in the parlour.
Elinor
and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance, and
while the eyes of
both were fixed on him with an evident wonder and a
secret admiration which equally sprung from his
appearance, he apologized for his intrusion by relating its
cause,
in a manner so frank and so graceful that his
person, which was uncommonly handsome, received additional
charms from his voice and expression.
Had he been even old, ugly, and vulgar, the
gratitude and kindness of Mrs.
Dashwood would have 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 sweetness of address
which always attended her,
invited him to be 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 present home was at Allenham, from whence he
hoped she would allow him the honour of calling tomorrow
to enquire after 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 gracefulness were instantly
the theme of general
admiration, and the laugh which his gallantry raised
against Marianne received 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 his lifting her up, had robbed her of the
power of regarding him after their entering the house. But she had
seen enough
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 ever drawn for the hero of a favourite story;
and in his carrying her into the house with so little
previous formality, there was a rapidity of thought which
particularly recommended the action to her.
Every circumstance belonging to him was
interesting. His
name was good, his residence was in their favourite village,
and she soon
found out that of all manly 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 interval of fair
weather that morning allowed him
to get out of doors; and Marianne's accident being
related to him, he was eagerly asked whether he knew any
gentleman of the name of Willoughby at Allenham.
"Willoughby!"
cried Sir John; "what, is he in the country? That is good news
however; I will ride 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 here every 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 rider in England."
"And is that all you can say for
him?" cried Marianne, indignantly.
"But what are his manners on more
intimate acquaintance? What his pursuits, his
talents, and genius?"
Sir
John was rather puzzled.
"Upon
my soul," said he, "I do not know much about him as to all
that. But he is a
pleasant, good humoured fellow, and has got the nicest little
black
bitch of a pointer I ever saw. Was she out with him
today?"
But
Marianne could no more satisfy him as to the colour of Mr.
Willoughby's pointer, than
he could describe to her the shades of his mind.
"But
who is he?" said Elinor. "Where
does he come from? 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 property of his own in the country; that he
resided there only while he was visiting the old lady at
Allenham Court, to whom he was related, and whose
possessions he was to inherit; adding, "Yes, yes, he
is very well worth catching, I can tell you, Miss Dashwood;
he has a pretty little estate of his own in
Somersetshire besides; and if I were you, I would not give him
up to my younger 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 a good humoured
smile, "that Mr.
Willoughby will be incommoded by the attempts of either of my
daughters towards what you call catching him.
It is not an employment to which they 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
remember last Christmas at a little hop at the
park, he danced from 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 ought to be. Whatever be his pursuits,
his eagerness in
them should know no moderation, and leave him
no sense of fatigue."
"Aye,
aye, I see how it will be," said Sir John, "I see how 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
every common-place phrase by which wit is
intended; and 'setting one's cap at a man,' or 'making a
conquest,' are the most odious 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 can tell you, in spite of all this tumbling
about and spraining of ankles."
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