Is there nothing one can get to comfort her? Poor dear, it seems quite cruel to let her be alone. Well, by-and-by we shall have a few friends, and that will amuse her a little.
What shall we play at? She hates whist I know; but is there no round game she cares for?”
“Dear ma’am, this kindness is quite unnecessary.
Marianne, I dare say, will not leave her room again this evening. I shall persuade her if I can to go early to bed, for I am sure she wants rest.”
“Aye, I believe that will be best for her. Let her name her own supper, and go to bed. Lord! no wonder she has been looking so bad and so cast down this last week or two, for this matter I suppose has been hanging over her head as long as that. And so the letter that came today finished it!
Poor soul! I am sure if I had had a notion of it, I would not have joked her about it for all my money.
But then you know, how should I guess such a thing? I made sure of its being nothing but a common love letter, and you know young people like to be laughed at about them. Lord!
how concerned Sir John and my daughters will be when they hear it! If I had my senses about me I might have called in Conduit Street in my way home, and told them of it.
But I shall see them tomorrow.”
“It would be unnecessary I am sure, for you to caution Mrs. Palmer and Sir John against ever naming Mr. Willoughby, or making the slightest allusion to what has passed, before my sister. Their own good-nature must point out to them the real cruelty of appearing to know any thing about it when she is present; and the less that may ever be said to myself on the subject, the more my feelings will be spared, as you my dear madam will easily believe.”
“Oh! Lord! yes, that I do indeed. It must be terrible for you to hear it talked of; and as for your sister, I am sure I would not mention a word about it to her for the world. You saw I did not all dinner time.
No more would Sir John, nor my daughters, for they are all very thoughtful and considerate; especially if I give them a hint, as I certainly will. For my part, I think the less that is said about such things, the better, the sooner ’tis blown over and forgot. And what does talking ever do you know?”
“In this affair it can only do harm; more so perhaps than in many cases of a similar kind, for it has been attended by circumstances which, for the sake of every one concerned in it, make it unfit to become the public conversation. I must do THIS justice to
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
134
Mr. Willoughby–he has broken no positive engagement with my sister.”
“Law, my dear! Don’t pretend to defend him.
No positive engagement indeed! after taking her all over Allenham House, and fixing on the very rooms they were to live in hereafter!”
Elinor, for her sister’s sake, could not press the subject farther, and she hoped it was not required of her for Willoughby’s; since, though Marianne might lose much, he could gain very little by the enforcement of the real truth.
After a short silence on both sides, Mrs. Jennings, with all her natural hilarity, burst forth again.
“Well, my dear, ’tis a true saying about an ill-wind, for it will be all the better for Colonel Brandon.
He will have her at last; aye, that he will. Mind me, now, if they an’t married by Mid-summer. Lord! how he’ll chuckle over this news! I hope he will come tonight.
It will be all to one a better match for your sister.
Two thousand a year without debt or drawback–except the little love-child, indeed; aye, I had forgot her; but she may be ‘prenticed out at a small cost, and then what does it signify? Delaford is a nice place, I can tell you; exactly what I call a nice old fashioned place, full of comforts and conveniences; quite shut in with great garden walls that are covered with the best fruit-trees in the country; and such a mulberry tree in one corner!