© Матвеев С. А., адаптация, словарь, 2022

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2022

Chapter I

The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland Park, in the centre of their property, where, for many generations, they had lived. The late owner of this estate was a single man, who for many years of his life had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister. But her death, which happened ten years before his own, produced a great alteration in his home. He invited and received into his house the family of his nephew Mr. Henry Dashwood, the legal inheritor^[1] of the Norland estate. In the society of his nephew and niece, and their children, the old Gentleman’s days were comfortably spent.

By a former marriage, Mr. Henry Dashwood had one son: by his present lady, three daughters. The son was provided for by the fortune of his mother, which had been large. By his own marriage, he added to his wealth. To him therefore the succession to the Norland estate was not so really important as to his sisters.

The old gentleman died: his will was read, and gave as much disappointment as pleasure. He left his estate to his nephew; but he left it to him on such terms as destroyed half the value of the bequest. Mr. Dashwood had wished for it more for the sake of his wife and daughters than for himself or his son. But to his son, and his son’s son, a child of four years old, it was secured. As a mark of his affection for the three girls, the old gentleman left them three thousand pounds.

Mr. Dashwood’s disappointment was, at first, severe; but his temper was cheerful and sanguine. He hoped to live many years, but the fortune was his only one year. He survived his uncle no longer. Ten thousand pounds was all that remained for his widow and daughters.

His son was sent for^[2], and to him Mr. Dashwood recommended his mother-in-law and sisters. Mr. John Dashwood promised to do everything to make them comfortable, for example, to give them three thousand pounds from the fortune. He was not an ill-disposed young man. But Mrs. John Dashwood was a caricature of himself; narrow-minded and selfish.

No sooner was his father’s funeral over, than Mrs. John Dashwood arrived with her child and their attendants. Of course, the house was her husband’s from the moment of his father’s decease; but the indelicacy of her conduct was great.

Mrs. Dashwood felt this ungracious behaviour, and she earnestly despised her daughter-in-law. But her own tender love for all her three children determined her afterwards to stay, and for their sakes avoid a breach with their brother.

Elinor, the eldest daughter, possessed a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgment, which qualified her, though only nineteen, to be the counsellor of her mother.

Marianne was the second sister. Marianne’s abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor’s. She was sensible and clever; but eager in everything: her sorrows, her joys, had no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting. The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great.

Margaret, the third sister, was thirteen. She was a good-humored, well-disposed girl; but she had already imbibed a good deal of Marianne’s romance.

Chapter II

Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mistress of Norland. Her mother and sisters-in-law were degraded to the condition of visitors. However, they were treated by her with quiet civility; and by her husband with kindness. He really pressed them to consider Norland as their home. Mrs. Dashwood remained there till she could accommodate herself with a house in the neighbourhood, so his invitation was accepted.

Mrs. John Dashwood did not at all approve of what her husband intended to do for his sisters. To take three thousand pounds from the fortune of their dear little boy will be dreadful! She begged him to think again on the subject. How can he rob his child of so large a sum? Those young Dashwoods were related to him only by half blood (which she considered as no relationship at all)! Why did he want to ruin himself, and their poor little Harry, by giving away all his money to his half sisters?

“It was my father’s last request to me,” replied her husband, “I must assist his widow and daughters.”

“He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say. Sure, he was a little bit crazy then: to give away half your fortune from your own child!”

“He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny. He only requested me, in general terms, to assist them, and make their situation comfortable. He required the promise, and I gave it. The promise must be performed. Something must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home.”

“Well, then, let something be done for them; but that something need not be three thousand pounds. Consider,” she added, “that when the money is once parted with, it never can return. Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone for ever. If, indeed, it will be restored to our poor little boy – ”

“Yes,” said her husband, very gravely, “that will make great difference. The time may come when Harry will regret that. If he has a numerous family, for instance…”

“Sure.”

“Perhaps, then, it will be better… five hundred pounds will be enough for them!”

“Oh! What brother on earth does half so much for his sisters! And for half blood sisters! You have such a generous spirit!”

“I think I may afford to give them that money: five hundred pounds to every sister.”

“Perhaps they do not even want that. If they marry, they will have rich husbands, and if they do not, they may all live very comfortably together.”

“That is very true. And what to do for their mother? Something of the annuity kind I mean. A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable.”

His wife hesitated a little.

“To be sure,” said she, “it is better than parting with fifteen hundred pounds at once. But, then, if Mrs. Dashwood lives fifteen years we shall lose the money anyway.”

“Fifteen years! My dear Fanny; her life won’t be so long.”

“Certainly not; but if you observe, people always live for ever when there is an annuity. She is very stout and healthy, and hardly forty. An annuity is a very serious business. You are not aware of what you are doing.”

“It is certainly an unpleasant thing,” replied Mr. Dashwood. “To be tied down to the regular payment of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no means desirable. It takes away one’s independence.”

“Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks for it. And it may be very inconvenient to spare a hundred, or even fifty pounds from our own expenses.”

“I believe you are right, my love; it will be better that there must be no annuity. A present of fifty pounds, now and then, will be enough, I think.”

“To be sure it will. Indeed, to say the truth, I am convinced within myself that your father had no idea of your giving them any money at all. The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was, for instance, looking out for a comfortable small house for them, helping them to move their things, and sending them presents, and so forth.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Dashwood, “I believe you are perfectly right. My father certainly meant nothing more by his request to me than what you say. I clearly understand it now!”

Chapter III

Mrs. Dashwood remained at Norland several months. She was impatient to go away. She was indefatigable in her inquiries for a suitable dwelling in the neighbourhood of Norland. To remove far from that beloved spot was impossible for her. But she heard of no decent house.

The contempt which she had felt for her daughter-in-law, was very much increased; and perhaps the two ladies would find it impossible to live together long, but there was a particular circumstance. This circumstance was a growing attachment between Mrs. Dashwood’s eldest girl and the brother of Mrs. John Dashwood, a gentleman-like and pleasing young man, who was introduced to their acquaintance soon after his sister’s establishment at Norland, and who had since spent the greatest part of his time there.

Some mothers could encourage the intimacy from motives of interest, for Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very rich. But it was enough for Mrs. Dashwood that he was amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality^[3].

Edward Ferrars was not handsome, and his manners were not perfect. He was too diffident; but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. His mother and sister wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in some manner or other. His mother wished to get him into parliament, or to see him connected with some of the great men of the day. But all Edward’s wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising.

Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he attracted Mrs. Dashwood’s attention. She noticed the difference between him and his sister. It was a contrast which recommended him most forcibly to her.

“It is enough,” said Mrs. Dashwood; “to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. I love him already.”

“I think you will like him,” said Elinor, “when you know more of him.”

“Like him!” replied her mother with a smile. “I will love him.”

“You may esteem him.”

“I have never known what it was to separate esteem and love.”

Mrs. Dashwood speedily comprehended all his merits. Soon she perceived symptoms of love in his behaviour to Elinor, and she considered their serious attachment as certain. So she looked forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching.

“In a few months, my dear Marianne,” said she, “Elinor will be settled for life. We shall miss her; but she will be happy.”

“Oh! Mama, how shall we live without her?”

“My love, we shall live within a few miles of each other, and shall meet every day. You will gain a brother, a real, affectionate brother. But you look grave, Marianne; do you disapprove your sister’s choice?”

“Perhaps,” said Marianne, “I am surprised. Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly. But yet – he is not the kind of young man – there is something wanting^[4]. His figure is not striking; it has none of that grace which I expect in the man who can seriously attach my sister. And besides all this, I am afraid, Mama, he has no real taste. Music seems scarcely to attract him, and though he admires Elinor’s drawings very much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand them. He admires as a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, the characters must be united. I cannot be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must read the same books, the same music must charm us both. Oh! mama, how spiritless, how tame was Edward’s manner in reading to us last night! I wanted to run away. To hear those beautiful lines, pronounced with such calmness, such dreadful indifference!”