第 23 节
作者:南方网      更新:2021-02-19 19:55      字数:9296
  mother; to acknowledge the probability of many; and hope for the
  justice of all。
  They     saw    nothing     of  Marianne      till  dinner   time;    when    she
  entered the room and took her place at the table without saying a
  word。 Her eyes were red and swollen; and it seemed as if her tears
  were even then restrained with difficulty。 She avoided the looks of
  them all; could neither eat nor speak; and after some time; on her
  mother’s   silently  pressing  her  hand   with   tender   compassion;   her
  small degree of fortitude was quite overcome; she burst into tears
  and left the room。
  This violent oppression of spirits continued the whole evening。
  She was without any power; because she was without any desire of
  command over herself。 The slightest mention of anything relative
  to   Willoughby       overpowered       her   in  an  instant;    and   though     her
  family     were    most    anxiously      attentive    to  her    comfort;    it  was
  impossible   for   them;   if   they   spoke   at   all;   to   keep   clear   of   every
  subject which her feelings connected with him。
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  CHAPTER XVI
  arianne   would   have   thought   herself   very   inexcusable
  had   she   been   able   to   sleep   at   all   the   first   night   after
  M
  parting      from    Willoughby。      She    would     have    been
  ashamed to look her family in the face the next morning; had she
  not risen from her bed in more need of repose than when she lay
  down      in  it。  But  the   feelings   which    made     such   composure      a
  disgrace; left her in no danger of incurring it。 She was awake the
  whole night; and she wept the greatest part of it。 She got up with a
  headache;       was    unable    to   talk;   and    unwilling    to   take   any
  nourishment; giving pain every moment to her mother and sisters;
  and     forbidding     all  attempt     at  consolation     from    either。   Her
  sensibility was potent enough!
  When      breakfast    was   over   she   walked     out   by  herself;   and
  wandered about the village of Allenham; indulging the recollection
  of past enjoyment and crying over the present reverse for the chief
  of the morning。
  The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of feeling。 She
  played over every favourite song that she had been used to play to
  Willoughby;      every   air  in  which    their   voices   had   been   oftenest
  joined; and sat at the instrument gazing on every line of music that
  he   had   written   out   for   her;   till   her   heart   was   so   heavy   that   no
  farther sadness could be gained; and this nourishment of grief was
  every     day   applied。    She   spent    whole    hours   at   the  pianoforté
  alternately   singing  and   crying;   her   voice   often   totally   suspended
  by   her   tears。   In   books   too;   as   well   as   in   music;   she   courted   the
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  misery which a contrast between the past and present was certain
  of giving。 She read nothing but what they had been used to read
  together。
  Such   violence   of   affliction   indeed   could   not   be   supported   for
  ever; it sunk within a few days into a calmer melancholy; but these
  employments; to which she daily recurred; her solitary walks and
  silent meditations; still produced occasional effusions of sorrow as
  lively as ever。
  No letter from Willoughby came; and none seemed expected by
  Marianne。   Her   mother   was   surprised;   and   Elinor   again   became
  uneasy。 But Mrs。 Dashwood could find explanations whenever she
  wanted them; which at least satisfied herself。
  “Remember; Elinor;” said she; “how very often Sir John fetches
  our letters himself from the post; and carries them to it。 We have
  already     agreed    that   secrecy   may    be   necessary;    and    we   must
  acknowledge         that    it   could    not    be    maintained       if   their
  correspondence were to pass through Sir John’s hands。”
  Elinor could not deny the truth of this; and she tried to find in it
  a motive sufficient for their silence。 But there was one method so
  direct; so simple; and in her opinion so eligible of knowing the real
  state of the affair; and of instantly removing all mystery; that she
  could not help suggesting it to her mother。
  “Why do you not ask Marianne at once;” said she; “whether she
  is or she is not engaged to Willoughby? From you; her mother; and
  so kind; so indulgent a mother; the question could not give offence。
  It would be the natural result of your affection for her。 She used to
  be all unreserve; and to you more especially。”
  “I   would   not   ask   such   a   question   for   the   world。   Supposing   it
  possible that they are not engaged; what distress would not  such
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  an   inquiry   inflict!   At   any   rate   it   would   be  most   ungenerous。       I
  should never deserve her confidence again; after forcing from her
  a confession of what is meant at present to be unacknowledged to
  any   one。   I   know   Marianne’s   heart:   I   know   that   she   dearly   loves
  me;   and   that   I   shall   not   be   the   last   to   whom   the   affair   is   made
  known; when circumstances   make   the   revealment  of it  eligible。   I
  would   not   attempt   to   force   the   confidence   of   any   one;   of  a   child
  much less; because a sense of duty would prevent the denial which
  her wishes might direct。”
  Elinor    thought     this  generosity     overstrained;      considering     her
  sister’s youth; and urged the matter farther; but in vain; common
  sense;   common   care;   common   prudence;   were   all   sunk   in   Mrs。
  Dashwood’s romantic delicacy。
  It   was   several   days   before   Willoughby’s   name   was   mentioned
  before Marianne by any of her family; Sir John and Mrs。 Jennings;
  indeed;   were   not   so  nice;   their   witticisms   added   pain   to   many   a
  painful     hour;—but       one    evening;     Mrs。   Dashwood;       accidentally
  taking up a volume of Shakespeare; exclaimed;
  “We      have     never     finished     Hamlet;      Marianne;       our    dear
  Willoughby went away before we could get through it。 We will put
  it  by;   that   when    he   comes     again   。  。  。  But  it  may   be   months;
  perhaps; before that happens。”
  “Months!”       cried    Marianne;      with   strong    surprise。     “No—nor
  many weeks。”
  Mrs。   Dashwood   was   sorry   for   what   she   had   said;   but   it   gave
  Elinor     pleasure;     as   it  produced      a   reply    from    Marianne       so
  expressive      of  confidence      in  Willoughby       and   knowledge       of  his
  intentions。
  One     morning;     about    a   week    after   his  leaving    the   country;
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  Marianne was prevailed on to join her sisters in their usual walk;
  instead of wandering away by herself。   Hitherto  she   had carefully
  avoided every companion in her rambles。 If her sisters intended to
  walk   on   the   downs;   she   directly   stole   away   towards   the   lanes;   if
  they talked of the valley; she was as speedy in climbing the   hills;
  and  could   never be   found   when   the   others   set   off。   But   at   length
  she     was    secured      by    the   exertions      of   Elinor;    who     greatly
  disapproved such continual seclusion。 They walked along the road
  through   the      valley;  and    chiefly   in  silence;   for   Marianne’s  mind
  could   not   be    controlled;    and   Elinor;    satisfied    with   gaining    one
  point;   would  not  then attempt  more。   Beyond   the   entrance   of   the
  valley; where the country; though still rich; was less wild and more
  open; a long stretch of the road which they had travelled on first
  coming   to   Barton;   lay   before   them;   and   on   reaching   that   point;
  they stopped to look around them; and examine a prospect which
  formed   the   distance   of   their   view   from   the   cottage;   from   a   spot
  which   they   had   never   h