Pride and Prejudice; Sense and Sensibility

Chapter 98 The Colonel's Painful Memories (1)
Marianne awoke the next morning, and though she had slept longer than she expected, she awoke the next morning with as much pain as when she closed her eyes last night.

Eleanor tried to encourage her to talk more about her feelings, and by the time breakfast was ready they had talked about it over and over.Every time they talked about it, Eleanor always held a fixed opinion, thinking that it was Willoughby's fault, and enlightened her affectionately, while Marianne was still as emotional and undecided as before.Sometimes she thinks Willoughby is as innocent and unfortunate as herself, and sometimes she despairs that he is unforgivable.Sometimes she is not afraid of the world's discussion, sometimes she wants to be isolated from the world forever, and sometimes she wants to fight against the world.One thing, however, was invariable to her, that whenever Mrs. Jennings was present, she always avoided her if she could, and if she had to, she was sure to keep silent.She had made up her mind not to believe that Mrs. Jennings would understand her pain.

"No, no, no, it can't be," she cried, "she has no feelings at all. Her kindness is not sympathy, her kindness is not thoughtfulness. All she wants is gossip, and the reason she likes me now , it’s just because I gave her something to talk about.”

Even if Elinor did not listen to her sister's words, she knew that her sister was often unfair to others. It was because of her own sensitive and delicate thoughts that she placed too much importance on people's sentimentality and refinement of manners.If more than half of the people in the world are smart and kind, then Marianne is like the other half of the people. Although she has outstanding talents and temperament, she is prone to impulsiveness and prejudice.She expects others to share her feelings and opinions, and she judges the motives of others by the immediate consequences of their actions on herself.One day after breakfast, while the sisters were together in the room, an incident occurred which further lowered Marianne's opinion of Mrs. Jennings.It turned out that it was her own fault, and though Mrs. Jennings's well-intentioned and involuntary action had caused Marianne new pains because of her frailty.

Mrs. Jennings, holding a letter in her hand, which she thought must be a comfort to Marianne, stretched out her hand from afar, came in with a beaming face, and said:
"Hey, dear, I've brought you something that will please you."

Marianne heard it all.For a moment she fancied that the letter was from Willoughby, and that it was full of tenderness and confession, and explained all that had happened in a satisfactory and convincing way.In a second she seemed to see Willoughby hastening into the room again, and prostrating himself at her feet, looking at her with tender eyes, assuring again and again that everything he said in his letter was true.Who would have thought that all this would come to naught in an instant.It was her mother's handwriting that was presented to her, which was never unwelcome, but the arrival of this letter at this time seemed a little out of place.Marianne could not help feeling that the ecstasy of the ecstasy had been followed by a terrific disappointment that made her feel more miserable than ever.

Mrs. Jennings' cruelty was beyond description, even in the moments when Marianne was most eloquent.Now she could only reproach her with unceasing tears--but such reproaches were not understood, and Mrs. Jennings said many more sympathetic words, and went out, exhorting her to read the letter, Relieve yourself.But when Marianne calmed down and read the letter, she was not comforted at all.Every page of the stationery was covered with Willoughby's name.The mother was still convinced of her daughter's engagement, and was as sure of Willoughby's fidelity as ever, for it was only at Elinor's entreaty that she wrote to beg Marianne to be frank with them both.The lines were full of tenderness for her daughter, great love for Willoughby, and confidence in their future happiness, and Marianne wept bitterly while reading.

At this time Marianne had another urgent desire to go home.Her mother was more gracious to her than she had ever been, and it was doubly lovable because she had so mistrusted Willoughby.Marianne couldn't wait to leave, and Eleanor couldn't decide whether Marianne should stay in London or Barton, so she didn't put forward any opinions, but advised Marianne to wait patiently for her mother's opinion before making a decision.Finally, she finally persuaded her sister to agree to listen to her mother's opinion.

Mrs. Jennings left them earlier than usual.She was always uneasy about keeping the Middletons and Palmers from feeling as sentimental as she had.Eleanor offered to accompany her, but she flatly refused, and she went out alone, all morning.Eleanor was worried, knowing that she was going to spread these sad stories, and at the same time, it could be seen from the letter Marianne received that she had not prepared her mother for this matter, so Eleanor sat down Write a letter to my mother, tell what happened, and ask her what to do in the future.Meanwhile Marianne, after Mrs. Jennings had gone, had come into the drawing-room, and was now sitting motionless at the desk at which Eleanor was writing letters, staring at her dancing pen, not only doing this for her sister. Grieving over something difficult and worrying about how her mother would react.

This situation lasted for about a quarter of an hour.At this moment a knock at the door startled Marianne.Her nerves were too tense to bear any sudden noise.

"Who is this?" cried Eleanor, "so early! I thought no one would disturb me."

Marianne went to the window.

"It's Colonel Bland!" she said angrily. "We'll never get rid of him!"

"Mrs. Jennings is not at home, and he won't come in."

"I don't believe you," she said, and walked into her room, "A person who has nothing to do by himself always has the cheek to occupy other people's time."

Unjust as Marianne's guess was, she proved to be right, for Colonel Bland did come in.Elinor knew very well that he had come here because of Marianne, and she saw it in his troubled and melancholy eyes, and in his brief but anxious greeting to Marianne, and she Can't forgive my sister for disrespecting him so much.

"I met Mrs. Jennings in Bond Street," said the Colonel, after some pleasantries, "and she persuaded me to come, and I am easy to be persuaded, for I would very much like to see you alone, and I thought, I will come." It is very likely that I will see you alone, and that is what I wish for. My purpose in seeing you alone—no, wish—my only wish—I hope, I think it is—is to bring your sister A little consolation—no, I should not say consolation—not a momentary consolation—but faith, an abiding faith in the purity of your sister's heart. My respect to her, to you, to your mother— - Allow me to set out some circumstances to prove it, it's all very sincere respect - just a sincere wish to help - I think I should say it - although it took me a lot to convince myself that I was doing the right thing It's been hours, and I'm still wondering if maybe I'm doing it wrong?" He paused.

"I understand you," said Elinor, "that you wish to tell me something about Mr. Willoughby, and reveal something further about his character. It will be of the greatest importance to Marianne that you say what you have to say." If your information is of any use to that end, I am indebted to you now, and Marianne will be indebted to you someday. Please, tell me quickly."

"Well, you will hear, briefly, last October, when I left Barton—but that will confuse you. I must go further. Miss Dashwood, will you Finding me clumsy, I simply don't know where to begin. I think I must first tell a little about myself, and I'm going to be very short on this point," he said with a deep sigh. , "I have nothing worth talking about."

He paused, thought for a moment, then sighed again, and continued.

"Perhaps you have quite forgotten that conversation--(it would have been impossible to impress you)--it was a conversation we had at Barton Park one night--there was a dance that night-- —I mentioned that I used to know a lady who looked a little like your sister Marianne."

"No," replied Elinor, "I have not forgotten." The Colonel, looking pleased to learn that she remembered, went on:

(End of this chapter)