Sense and Sensibility

Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen

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SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811) CHAPTER 1 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 in so respectable a manner as to engage t he general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintance. The late owner of thi s estate was a single man, who lived to a very advanced age, and who for many ye ars 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; for to supply her loss, he invited and received into his house the fam ily of his nephew Mr. Henry Dashwood, the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the person to whom he intended to bequeath it. In the society of his nephew and niece, and their children, the old Gentleman's days were comfortably spent. His attachment to them all increased. The constant attention of Mr. and Mrs. He nry Dashwood to his wishes, which proceeded not merely from interest, but from g oodness of heart, gave him every degree of solid comfort which his age could rec eive; and the cheerfulness of the children added a relish to his existence. By a former marriage, Mr. Henry Dashwood had one son: by his present lady, thre e daughters. The son, a steady respectable young man, was amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, which had been large, and half of which devolved on h im on his coming of age. By his own marriage, likewise, which happened soon afte

rwards, he added to his wealth. To him therefore the succession to the Norland e state was not so really important as to his sisters; for their fortune, independ ent of what might arise to them from their father's inheriting that property, co uld be but small. Their mother had nothing, and their father only seven thousand pounds in his own disposal; for the remaining moiety of his first wife's fortun e was also secured to her child, and he had only a life-interest in it. The old gentleman died: his will was read, and like almost every other will, ga ve as much disappointment as pleasure. He was neither so unjust, nor so ungratef ul, as to leave his estate from 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, in such a wa y, as to leave to himself no power of providing for those who were most dear to him, and who most needed a provision by any charge on the estate, or by any sale of its valuable woods. The whole was tied up for the benefit of this child, who , in occasional visits with his father and mother at Norland, had so far gained on the affections of his uncle, by such attractions as are by no means unusual i n children of two or three years old; an imperfect articulation, an earnest desi re of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and a great deal of noise, as to outweigh all the value of all the attention which, for years, he had received fr om his niece and her daughters. He meant not to be unkind, however, and, as a ma rk of his affection for the three girls, he left them a thousand pounds a-piece. Mr. Dashwood's disappointment was, at first, severe; but his temper was cheerfu l and sanguine; and he might reasonably hope to live many years, and by living e conomically, lay by a considerable sum from the produce of an estate already lar ge, and capable of almost immediate improvement. But the fortune, which had been so tardy in coming, was his only one twelvemonth. He survived his uncle no long er; and ten thousand pounds, including the late legacies, was all that remained for his widow and daughters. His son was sent for as soon as his danger was known, and to him Mr. Dashwood r ecommended, with all the strength and urgency which illness could command, the i nterest of his mother-in-law and sisters. Mr. John Dashwood had not the strong feelings of the rest of the family; but he was affected by a recommendation of such a nature at such a time, and he promis ed to do every thing in his power to make them comfortable. His father was rende red easy by such an assurance, and Mr. John Dashwood had then leisure to conside r how much there might prudently be in his power to do for them. He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold hearted and rath er selfish is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well respected; for he conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties. Had h e married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more respectable t han he was:--he might even have been made amiable himself; for he was very young when he married, and very fond of his wife. But Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself;--more narrow-minded and selfish. When he gave his promise to his father, he meditated within himself to increase the fortunes of his sisters by the present of a thousand pounds a-piece. He the n really thought himself equal to it. The prospect of four thousand a-year, in a ddition to his present income, besides the remaining half of his own mother's fo rtune, warmed his heart, and made him feel capable of generosity.-- "Yes, he wou ld give them three thousand pounds: it would be liberal and handsome! It would b e enough to make them completely easy. Three thousand pounds! he could spare so considerable a sum with little inconvenience."-- He thought of it all day long, and for many days successively, and he did not repent.

No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs. John Dashwood, without sendi ng any notice of her intention to her mother-in-law, arrived with her child and their attendants. No one could dispute her right to come; the house was her husb and's from the moment of his father's decease; but the indelicacy of her conduct was so much the greater, and to a woman in Mrs. Dashwood's situation, with only common feelings, must have been highly unpleasing;--but in HER mind there was a sense of honor so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any offence of the kind, by whomsoever given or received, was to her a source of immovable disgust. Mrs. John Dashwood had never been a favourite with any of her husband's family; but she had had no opportunity, till the present, of shewing them with how little at tention to the comfort of other people she could act when occasion required it. So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood feel this ungracious behaviour, and so earnestly d id she despise her daughter-in-law for it, that, on the arrival of the latter, s he would have quitted the house for ever, had not the entreaty of her eldest gir l induced her first to reflect on the propriety of going, and her own tender lov e for all her three children determined her afterwards to stay, and for their sa kes avoid a breach with their brother. Elinor, this eldest daughter, whose advice was so effectual, possessed a streng th of understanding, and coolness of judgment, which qualified her, though only nineteen, to be the counsellor of her mother, and enabled her frequently to coun teract, to the advantage of them all, that eagerness of mind in Mrs. Dashwood wh ich must generally have led to imprudence. She had an excellent heart;--her disp osition was affectionate, and her feelings were strong; but she knew how to gove rn them: it was a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn; and which one of her sisters had resolved never to be taught. Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor's. She was s ensible and clever; but eager in everything: her sorrows, her joys, could have n o moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting: she was everything but pru dent. The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great. Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's sensibility; but by Mrs. D ashwood it was valued and cherished. They encouraged each other now in the viole nce of their affliction. The agony of grief which overpowered them at first, was voluntarily renewed, was sought for, was created again and again. They gave the mselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every ref lection that could afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation in future. Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but still she could struggle, she co uld exert herself. She could consult with her brother, could receive her sisterin-law on her arrival, and treat her with proper attention; and could strive to rouse her mother to similar exertion, and encourage her to similar forbearance. Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humored, well-disposed girl; but as she had already imbibed a good deal of Marianne's romance, without having much of he r sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal her sisters at a more advan ced period of life. CHAPTER 2 Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mistress of Norland; and her mother an d sisters-in-law were degraded to the condition of visitors. As such, however, t hey were treated by her with quiet civility; and by her husband with as much kin dness as he could feel towards anybody beyond himself, his wife, and their child . He really pressed them, with some earnestness, to consider Norland as their ho me; and, as no plan appeared so eligible to Mrs. Dashwood as remaining there til l she could accommodate herself with a house in the neighbourhood, his invitatio n was accepted.

--Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes! " "Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so much for his sisters. have on his generosity to so large an amount. even if REALLY his sisters! And as it is--only half blood!--But you ha ve such a generous spirit!" "I would not wish to do any thing mean. it would be a very conve nient addition. which she considered a s no relationship at all. if the sum were diminished one half. for instance. If he should have a numerous family. The time may come when Harry will regret that so large a sum was parted w ith. "that when the money is once parted wi th." . He could hardly suppose I should neglect them. what you can afford to do. Consider. in a greater degree." said the lady.A continuance in a place where everything reminded her of former delight. In seasons of cheerfulness. No one. who were related to him only by half blood. I dare say. LET something be done for them." she added. at least. it would be better for all parties. and it will be gone for ever. How could he answer it to himself to rob his child. "but we are not to t hink of their expectations: the question is. and their po or little Harry. indeed." "Well. on such o ccasions." said her husband. "that would make great diffe rence. he only requested me. then. John Dashwood did not at all approve of what her husband intended to do fo r his sisters. To take three thousand pounds from the fortune of their dear litt le boy would be impoverishing him to the most dreadful degree." "Perhaps. But in sorrow she must be equally carrie d away by her fancy. they can hardly expect more. that sanguine expectation of happiness which is happiness itself. my dear Fanny. to assist them. Perhaps it would have been as well if he had lef t it wholly to myself. can think I have not do ne enough for them: even themselves. The promise. was given. to be sure. it could be restored to our poor little boy--" "Why. It was v ery well known that no affection was ever supposed to exist between the children of any man by different marriages. no temper could be more cheerful than hers. But as he required the promise." "There is no knowing what THEY may expect. then. and why was he to ruin himself. If. therefore. and must be performed. She begged him to think again on the subject." he replied." "He did not stipulate for any particular sum. he could not have thought of such a thing as begging you to give away half your fortune from your own chi ld. Had he been in his right senses. very gravely. or possess. Something m ust be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home. and his only child too. by giving away all his money to his half sisters? "It was my father's last request to me." "He did not know what he was talking of. and make their situation more comfortable than it was in his power to do. "that I should as sist his widow and daughters. Your sisters will marry. it never can return. I could not do less than give it." "To be sure it would. and as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy. of so large a sum? And what possible claim could the Mi ss Dashwoods." replied her husband. was e xactly what suited her mind. in general terms. "One had rather. do too much than too little. ten to one but he was ligh t-headed at the time. Mrs. at least I thought so at the time. but THAT something need not be thr ee thousand pounds.

They think themselves se cure. otherwise. They will have ten thousand pounds divided amongst them. as your mother justly says. and if they do not. and she is very stout and healthy. my love. It will certainly be much the best way. for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father's will. Her income was not her own. that I am sure I would not pin myself down to the payment of one for all the world. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid. and hardly forty." "It is certainly an unpleasant thing. in giving her consent to this plan. then." "Fifteen years! my dear Fanny. An annuity is a very serious business. it strikes me that they can want no addition at all. I wou ld not bind myself to allow them any thing yearly. to say the truth. To be tied down to the regular payment of such a sum. and. people always live for ever when there is a n annuity to be paid them. however. whatever I may give them occasionally will be of far greater assistance than a yearly allowance. therefore. upon the whole. without any addition of mine." "Undoubtedly. but if you observe." replied Mr. now and then. As it is. Dashwood. and then one of the m was said to have died."Certainly--and I think I may afford to give them five hundred pounds a-piece. If they marry. and then there was the trouble of getting it to them. It has given me such an abhorrence of annuities. I f I were you. it will be better that there should be no an nuity in the case. You are not aware of what you are doing." His wife hesitated a little. she said. it comes over and over every year." "Certainly not. and will. I think. with such perpe tual claims on it. her life cannot be worth half that purchase. and th ere is no getting rid of it. if Mrs." "That is very true." "I believe you are right. will prevent their ever being distressed fo r money. and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. they may all live very comfor tably together on the interest of ten thousand pounds. the money would have been entirely at my mother's disposal. and it is am azing how disagreeable she found it. and after all you have no thanks for it. A pr esent of fifty pounds. is by no means desirable: it takes away one's independence. because. i s NOT one's own. whatever I did should be done at my own discretion entirely. and it raises no gratitude at all. because they would only enlarge their style of living if they felt sure of a larger income.--My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself. One's fortune. "to have those kin d of yearly drains on one's income. My mo ther was quite sick of it. It may be very inconvenient s ome years to spare a hundred. you do no more than what is expected." "To be sure it will. indeed. I do not know whether. " "To be sure it is. be amply discharging my promise to my father." said she. and it was the more unkind in my father. without any restrict ion whatever. and would not be sixpence the ri cher for it at the end of the year. they will each have about three thousand pounds on their mother's death--a very comfortable fortune for any young woman. th ey will be sure of doing well. and. Indeed. But. I am convinced within myself tha . or even fifty pounds from our own expenses. "it is better than parting with fifteen hundred pounds at once. A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable. I have kno wn a great deal of the trouble of annuities. it w ould not be more advisable to do something for their mother while she lives. on every rent day. rat her than for them--something of the annuity kind I mean. Dashwood should live fifteen years we shall be compl etely taken in. "To be sure.

When my mother removes into another house my services shall be readily given to accommodate her as far as I can. such as looking out for a comfortable small house for them. how excessively comfortable your mother-in-law and her d aughters may live on the interest of seven thousand pounds. I dare say. Dashwood. and sending them presents of fish and game. indeed. it is quite absurd to think of it. than such kind of neighbourly acts as his own wife pointed out. so it is. they will keep no company. When your father and mother moved to Norland. . and is now left to y our mother. though the furniture of St anhill was sold. "But. was only such as might be reasonably expected of you. of course. Dashwood. ONE thing must be cons idered." "Upon my word. no horses. for we very well know that if he could. it would be very strange and unreasonable if he did. however. in my opinion. and he finally resolved. and what on earth c an four women want for more than that?--They will live so cheap! Their housekeep ing will be nothing at all. Altogether. for instance. The assistance h e thought of. however. A valuable legacy indeed! And ye t some of the plate would have been a very pleasant addition to our own stock he re. and indefatigable i n her inquiries for a suitable dwelling in the neighbourhood of Norland. Some little present of furniture too may be acceptable then." This argument was irresistible. plate. Your father thought only of THEM. I cl early understand it now. and suited the prude nce of her eldest daughter. and hardly an y servants. nor attention to his wishes. if not highly indecorous. she was impatient to be gone. and I will strictly fulfil my engagement by such acts o f assistance and kindness to them as you have described. A great deal too handsome. whenever they are in season." "That is a material consideration undoubtedly. and. to do more for the widow and children of his fat her.t your father had no idea of your giving them any money at all. for when her spirits began to revive. CHAPTER 3 Mrs. for any place THEY can ever afford to live in. Her house will therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon as s he takes it. and linen was saved. he would have left almost ev erything in the world to THEM. whose steadier judgment rejected several houses as t oo large for their income. I'll lay my life that he meant nothing farth er. for to remove far from that beloved spot was impossible. But. and her mind became capable of some other exertion than that of heightening its afflicti on by melancholy remembrances. and the set of breakfast china is twice as handsome as what belongs to th is house." "Certainly. they will have five hundred a-year amongst them. which her mother would have approved. "I believe you are perfectly right. my dear Mr. and so forth. John Dashwood. besides the thousand pounds belonging to each of the girls. helpin g them to move their things. But she could hear of no situa tion that at once answered her notions of comfort and ease. they will pay their mother for their board out of it. They will have no carriage. And I must say this: that you owe no particular gratitude to him. that it would be absolutely unneces sary. and can have no expenses of any kind! Onl y conceive how comfortable they will be! Five hundred a year! I am sure I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it. They will be much more able to give YOU something." said Mr. all the china. Dashwood remained at Norland several months." "Yes. Do but consider . My fathe r certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than what you say. not from any disinclination t o move when the sight of every well known spot ceased to raise the violent emoti on which it produced for a while. and as to your giving them more. which brings them in fifty pounds a year a-piece." returned Mrs. It gave to his intentions whatever of decision was wanting before.

John Dashwood wished it likewise. who longed to see him distinguished--as-they hardly knew what. to g et him into parliament. His attentive behaviour to hersel f and his sisters convinced her that their welfare was dear to him. which half a year's residence in her family afforded. They wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in som e manner or other. except a trifling sum. she firmly relied on the liberality of his intentions. and. But Mrs. For tunately he had a younger brother who was more promising. Mrs. a gentleman-like oduced to their acquaintance soon after his nd who had since spent the greatest part of between her eldest girl and the brot and pleasing young man. was to he r comprehension impossible. for she was. till one of these superior blessings could be attained. . the who le of his fortune depended on the will of his mother. Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he engaged much of Mr s. His mother wished to interest him in political concerns. she rejoiced. and she reproached herself for being unjust to his merit bef ore. a his time there. Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any peculiar graces of person or address. by a reflection which Elinor chanced one day to make on the difference bet ween him and his sister. She doubted the sincerity of this assurance no more than he had doubted it him self. He did not disturb the wretchedness of her min d by ill-timed conversation. Dashwood had been informed by her husband of the solemn promise on the par t of his son in their favour. in such affliction as render ed her careless of surrounding objects. a ffectionate heart. for a l ong time. the two ladies might have found it impossible to have lived together so long. But Edward had no turn for great men or barouches . it would have quieted her ambition to see him driving a barouche. and she thought of it for her daughters' sake with satisfaction. at that time. For their brother's sake. which gave comfort to his last earthly reflections . felt for her daug hter-in-law. She saw only that he was quiet and unobt rusive. It was a contrast which recommended him most forcibly t o her mother. and she liked him for it. and his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing. It was enough for her that he appeared t o be amiable. He was not handsome. for E dward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very rich. h ad not a particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility. that he loved her daughter. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. was very much increased by the farther knowledge of her character. It was contrary to every doctrine of hers that difference of fortune should k eep any couple asunder who were attracted by resemblance of disposition. his behaviour gave every indication of an open. who was intr sister's establishment at Norland. John Dashwood. acc ording to the opinions of Mrs. though as for herself she was persuaded that a much smaller provision than 7000L would su pport her in affluence. and perhaps in spite of ev ery consideration of politeness or maternal affection on the side of the former. His understanding was good. for. This circumstance was a growing attachment her of Mrs. but when his natural shyness was overcome. Dashwood was alik e uninfluenced by either consideration. or to see him connected with some of the great men of th e day. Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest. Dashwood's attention. for the sake of his own h eart. and some might have repressed it from motives of prudence. Dashwood. She was first called to observe and approve him far ther. and that Elinor returned the partialit y.Mrs. He was too diffident to do justice to himself. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to answe r the wishes of his mother and sister. too. The contempt which she had. to her daughters' continuance at Norlan d. but in the mean while. in believing him incapable of generosity. and his education had given it so lid improvement. very early in their acquaintance. and tha t Elinor's merit should not be acknowledged by every one who knew her.

and therefore she may overlook it. and though he admires Elinor's drawings very much. I have the highest opinion in the world of Edward's h eart. To satisfy me." said Elinor. To hear those beautiful lines which have frequent ly almost driven me wild. my dear Marianne. Yet she bore it with so much composure. I require . a nd be happy with him. and looked forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching. in sp ite of his frequent attention to her while she draws." "I have never yet known what it was to separate esteem and love. "I feel no sentiment of approbatio n inferior to love. We shall miss her. how spiritless. And besides all this. but you WOULD give him Cowper." said she. "Elinor will. that fire." said Marianne. it is not the admiration of a person who can understand their worth. "when you know more of him. the more I know of the world. Mama. I am afraid." Mrs. he has no real taste. But it would have broke MY heart." "Oh! Mama. how ta me was Edward's manner in reading to us last night! I felt for my sister most se verely. the same books. that in fact he knows noth ing of the matter. such dread ful indifference!"-. I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. It is evident. and I love him tenderly. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted with him. I love him already. how shall we do without her?" "My love."It is enough."He would certainly have done more justice to simple and el egant prose. do you disapprove your sister's choice?" "Perhaps. Elinor has not my feelings. He admires as a lover. she seemed scarcely to notice it ." "You may esteem him. but she really felt assured of his worth: and even that quietness of manner. the mo re am I convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. Mama. Mama. and shall meet every day of our lives. His eyes w ant all that spirit. if he is not to be animated by Cowper!--but we must allow for diffe rence of taste. in all probability be settled for life. the same music must charm us both. affectionate brother." "I think you will like him." "Like him!" replied her mother with a smile. I could hardly keep my seat. No sooner did she perceive any symptom of love in his behaviour to Elinor. which at once announce virtue and intelligence. Oh! mama." said she. Her manners were attac hing. was no longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and his temper affectionate." "Nay. Edward is very amiable. But you look grave. to hear him read with so little sensibility. t he persuasion of his regard for Elinor perhaps assisted her penetration. He must enter into all my feelings. it will be scarcely a separation. "to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. You will gain a brother. "In a few months. but SHE will be happy. I thought so at the time. pronounced with such impenetrable calmness. We shall live within a few miles of each other. which mili tated against all her established ideas of what a young man's address ought to b e. Music seems scarc ely to attract him. than she considered their serious attachment as certain. She speedily comprehended all his merits. and soon banished his reserve. It implies everything amiable. "I may consider it with some surprise. not as a connoisseur. a r eal. t hose characters must be united. Marianne. But yet--he is not the kind of young man--the re is something wanting--his figure is not striking. it has none of that grace w hich I should expect in the man who could seriously attach my sister. had I loved him.

At len gth she replied: "Do not be offended. which. Yet. in her opinion. was very far from that rapturous delight." "No taste for drawing!" replied Elinor. which in general d irect him perfectly right. Elinor. "no one can. have studied his sentiments and heard his opinion on subjects of literature a nd taste. but the kind of approbation which Elinor described as excited in him by the drawings of othe r people. I have not had so many opportunities of estimating th e minuter propensities of his mind. He and I have been at times thrown a good deal together. "I hope. be in doubt. that you are not seventeen. as you call them you hav e from peculiar circumstances been kept more ignorant than myself." said Marianne. Had he ever been in the way of le arning. while you have been wholly engrossed on the most affectionate principle by my mother. T he excellence of his understanding and his principles can be concealed only by t hat shyness which too often keeps him silent. and. "Of his sense and his goodness. I do not perceive how you could express yourself more warmly. my Marianne. she h onoured her sister for that blind partiality to Edward which produced it." Marianne hardly knew what to say. "you do not consider him as deficient in general taste. "that Edward should have no taste f or drawing. his observat . I think. indeed." replied Elinor. enjoyment of books exceedingly great. but he has an innate propriety and simplicity of taste. his imagination lively." continued Elinor." Marianne was afraid of offending. and said no more on the subject. You know enough of him to do justi ce to his solid worth. and his person and manners must orn ament his goodness with every possible charm. I am sure you could nev er be civil to him. though he has not had opportunities of improving it." Marianne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily pleased. Indeed. Why should you be less fortunate than your mother? In one circumstance only. "why should you think so? He does not d raw himself. for your behaviour to him is perfectly cordial. He distrusts his own judgment in such matters so much. but he has great pleasure in seeing the performances of oth er people. I think he would have drawn very well. though smiling within herself at the mistake." "I am sure. bu t I have the highest opinion in the world of his goodness and sense. I think I may say that you cannot. I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-info rmed. I have seen a great deal of hi m. I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable." continued Elinor. But of his minuter propensities. It is yet too early in life to despair of such a happiness. his inclinations and tastes. and I assure you he is by no means deficient in natural taste. and yet to say what she did not believe was impossible." "Remember. "that his dearest friends could not be dissatisfied with such commendation as that. if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your sense of his merits. my love. She would not wound the feelings of her siste r on any account. who has seen him often enough to engage him in unreserved conversation. with a smile. may your destiny be different from hers!" CHAPTER 4 "What a pity it is. could alone be called much! He must have all Edward's virtues. and if THAT were your opinion. Marianne. upon the whole. that he is always unwilling to give his opinion on any pic ture. as you have. Elinor.

spoke of something almost as unpromising. need not give him more than inquietude. a want of spirits about him which. She felt that Edward stood very high in her op inion. that I like him. and I will leave the room this mome nt. or at least. how delightful it would be!" Elinor had given her real opinion to her sister. if I do not now. to be such as his merit. Use those words again. When you tell m e to love him as a brother." said she. At first sigh t. He i s very far from being independent.ion just and correct. A doubt of her regard. His abilities in every re spect improve as much upon acquaintance as his manners and person. almost so. She could not consider her par tiality for Edward in so prosperous a state as Marianne had believed it. without imprudence or folly. There w as. Elinor. "I do not attempt to deny. I shall no more see imperfection in his face. but . "Yet it certainly soon will happen. I shall not lose you so soon. But there are other points to be considered besides his inclination. from Fanny's occasional mention of her conduct and opinions. She believed the regard to be mutual." Marianne was astonished to find how much the imagination of her mother and hers elf had outstripped the truth." Marianne here burst forth with indignation-"Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashame d of being otherwise. you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my own partiality." Elinor started at this declaration. Oh! if he should be so far stimulated by your genius as to learn to draw himself. by speaking. and was sorry for the warmth she had been b etrayed into. "and be assured that I m eant no offence to you. believe them. I know him so well. in short. if it did not denote indifferen ce. of my own feelings. It would not be likely to . but she required greater certainty of it to make Marianne's conviction of their attachment agreeable to her. "Excuse me. Beli eve them to be stronger than I have declared. we have never bee n disposed to think her amiable. In my heart I feel little--scarcely any doubt of his prefe rence." Elinor could not help laughing. and his person can hardly be called ha ndsome. which are uncommonly good. in so quiet a way. and to hope was to expect. till the expression of his eyes. She kn ew that what Marianne and her mother conjectured one moment. and his taste delicate and pure. I am by no means assured of his regard for me. What his mother really is we cannot know. his address is certainly not striking. and Edward will have greater opportunity of improving that natural taste for your favourite pursuit which must be so indispensably necessary to your futu re felicity. at times. But two advantages will proceed from this delay. At present. Marianne ?" "I shall very soon think him handsome. There are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful. by believing or callin g it more than it is. What say you. But farther than this you must not believe. and till his sentiments are fully known. and the gene ral sweetness of his countenance. and the suspicion--the hope of his affection for me may warrant. if he were to wish to marry a woman who had not either a great fortune or high rank. She tried t o explain the real state of the case to her sister. supposing h im to feel it. "that I think very highly of him--that I greatly esteem. they believed the n ext--that with them. in speaking of him. than I now do in his heart. that I think him really handsome." said she. to wish was to hope. "And you really are not engaged to him!" said she. and I am very much mistaken if Edward is not hi mself aware that there would be many difficulties in his way. is perceived.

that she might be secure of their approbation before her answer were sent. could. and her acc eptance of his proposal. for the houses were in the same parish. She knew that his mother neither behaved to him so as to make hi s home comfortable at present. from whence she might judge. by any altera tion. He earnestly pressed her. and the rent so uncommonly moderate. that Mrs. whatever might really be its limits. and at the same time. f or a few painful minutes. was on so simple a scale. belonging to a relation of her own. whet her Barton Cottage. a letter was delivered to her from the post. the place of his own residence. She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in -law on the occasion. Her resolution was formed as she read. in comparison of the misery of continuing her daugh ter-in-law's guest. the longer they w ere together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard. She was far from depending on that result of his preference of her. without strictly attending to her views for his aggrandizeme nt. A more reasonable cause might be found in the dependent situation which forbade the indulgence of his affection. of Mrs. though it was not a plan which brought any charm to her fancy. resol ving that. and. to make her uneasy. in a county so far distant from Sussex as Devonshire. CHAPTER 5 . With such a knowledge as this. and instantly left the room. it was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the subject. it was a blessing. She gave her an answer which marked her contempt. Nay. be made comfortable to her. as to leave her no right of object ion on either point. if the situation pleased her. as described by Sir John. He understood that she w as in need of a dwelling. It was the offer of a small hous e. was now its first recommendation . (which was still more common. but a few hours before. and then hastened to shew both letters to her daughters .) to make her uncivil. She neede d no time for deliberation or inquiry. nor to give him any assurance that he might form a home for himself. In this state of her spirits. too. she believed it to be no more than friendship. and sometimes. nor endeavor to be calm. On TH AT head. a gentleman of conseq uence and property in Devonshire. whic h contained a proposal particularly well timed. To quit the neighbourhood of Norland was no longer an evil. Dashwood could neither pretend to be unconscious. it was an object o f desire. he assured her that everything should be done to it which she might thin k necessary. she made no attempt to dissuade her mother from sending a letter of acquiescence. whatever might be the inconvenience or expense of so sudden a removal . though it was a removal from the vicinity of Norland beyond her wishes. than immediately amongst their present acquaintance. Ferrars's resolution that both her sons should marry well. would have been a sufficient objection to outweigh e very possible advantage belonging to the place. Elinor had always thought it would be more prudent for them to settle at some d istance from Norland. therefore. when perceived by his sister. it was enough. whi ch. it was not for her to oppose her mother's intention of remov ing into Devonshire. to come with her daughters to Barton Park. which her mother and sister still considered as certain. talking to her so expressively of her brother's great expe ctations. Th e situation of Barton. herself.produce that dejection of mind which frequently attended him. The house. She in stantly wrote Sir John Middleton her acknowledgment of his kindness. after givin g the particulars of the house and garden. He seemed really anxious to accommodate them a nd the whole of his letter was written in so friendly a style as could not fail of giving pleasure to his cousin. The letter was from this gentleman himself. and to remove for ever from that beloved place would be less painful than to inhabit or visit it while such a woman was its mistress. therefore. more especially at a moment when she was suffe ring under the cold and unfeeling behaviour of her nearer connections. and of the danger attending any young woman who attempted to DRAW HIM IN. her beloved Elinor should not be exposed another week to such insinuations. an d written in the true spirit of friendly accommodation. and though the house he now offered her was merely a c ottage. on very easy terms. But.

Jo hn Dashwood. For t he comfort of her children. HER wisdom too limited the nu mber of their servants to three.--The horses which were left her by her husband had been sold soon aft er his death.-. she should have any handsome article of furniture. by this pointed invitation to her brother. "but I hope to see many of my friends in it. Mrs. "Devonshire! Are yo u. Dashwood took the house for a twelvemonth. as to feel no curiosity to examine it herself till she entered it as her own. and an opportunity now offering of disposing of her carriage. To separate Edward and Elinor was as far from being her object as ever. Dashwood indulged herself in the pleasure of announcing to her son-in-law and his wife that she was provided wit h a house. and Mrs. Since he had neglected to do it on first coming to the estate. than Mrs. their quitting his house migh . He really felt conscientious ly vexed on the occasion. and books. was soon done. she would hav e kept it. It chiefly consisted of house hold linen. The man and one of the maids were sent off immediately into Devonshire. I am sure I will find none in accommodating them.The furniture was all sent around by water. with a handsome pianoforte of Marianne's. Dashwood's income would be so trifling in comparison with their own.-Edward turned hastily towards her. and this. repeated. she agreed to sell that likewise at the earnest advice of her eldest daughter. and should incommode them no longer than till every thing were ready for her inhabiting it. Her eagerness to be gone from Norland was preserved from diminution by the evident satisfaction of her daughter-in-law in the prospect of her remov al. she preferred going directly to the cottage to being a visitor at Barton Park. It was within four miles northward of Exeter. "It is but a cottage. plate. A room or two can easily be added. as she was exceedingly rapid in the performance of everything that interested her. in a voice of surprise and concern. it had not produced the smallest ef fect on her in that point to which it principally tended. and she wished to show Mrs. a satisfaction which was but feebly attempted to be concealed under a cold i nvitation to her to defer her departure. but her husband civilly hoped that she would not be settled far from Norla nd. going there? So far from hence! And to what part of it?" She explaine d the situation. had she consulted only her own wishes. She had great satisfaction in replying that she was going into Devonshire. and if my friends find no difficulty in t ravelling so far to see me. how totally she disregar ded her disapprobation of the match. before she set off for the west. Mrs. John Dashwood saw the packages depart with a sigh: she could not help feelin g it hard that as Mrs. but the discretion of Elinor prevailed. and she waited only for the disposal of her effects at Norland. on hearing this.No sooner was her answer dispatched." She concluded with a very kind invitation to Mr. which required no explanation to her. John Dashwood said not hing. with whom they were speedi ly provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. John Dashwood told his mother again and again how exceedingly sorry he was that she had taken a house at such a distance from Norland as to prevent his bei ng of any service to her in removing her furniture. Dashwood. Mr. and to Edward she gave one with still greater affection. it was ready furnished. to prep are the house for their mistress's arrival. china. and. They heard her with surprise. and to de termine her future household. for the very exertion to which he had limited the perf ormance of his promise to his father was by this arrangement rendered impractica ble. Though her late conversation with her daughter-in-law had made her resolve on remainin g at Norland no longer than was unavoidable." she continued. indeed. and she might have immediate possession. M rs. for as Lady Middleton was entirely u nknown to Mrs. Now was the time when her son-in-law's promise to his father might with particular propriety be fulfilled. No difficulty arose on either side in the agre ement. John Dashwood to visi t her at Barton. and she relied so undoubtingly on Sir John's description of the house. two maids and a man.

With the size and furniture of the house Mrs. they reached their own house. Dashwood was upon the whole well . nor were the walls covered with honeysu ckles. In a very few weeks from the day which brought Sir John Middleton's first lette r to Norland. and b eyond them were the offices and the stairs. could you know what I suffe r in now viewing you from this spot. It was very early in September. and of the perpetual demands upon his purse. and rich in pasture. They we re cheered by the joy of the servants on their arrival. you will continue the same. A narrow passage led directly through the house into the garden behind. fro m the general drift of his discourse. dear Norland!" said Marianne.--No leaf will d ecay because we are removed. The hills which surrounded the cottage terminated the valley in that directi on. O n each side of the entrance was a sitting room. A sma ll green court was the whole of its demesne in front. was comfortable and compact. well wooded. But Mrs. He so frequently talked of the i ncreasing expenses of housekeeping. It had not been built many years and was in good repair . and at no great distance on each side. and fo rmed a pleasant view from the cottage windows. and reached into the country beyo nd. nor any branch become motionless although we can ob serve you no longer!--No. their interest in the appearance of a country which they were to inhabit ove rcame their dejection. though small. the window shutters were not painted green. every thing was so far settled in their future abode as to enable Mrs. "when shall I cease to regret you!--wh en learn to feel a home elsewhere!--Oh! happy house. it was poor and small indeed!--but the tears which r ecollection called forth as they entered the house were soon dried away. Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieus to a place so much belove d. and insensible of any change in those who walk und er your shade!--But who will remain to enjoy you?" CHAPTER 6 The first part of their journey was performed in too melancholy a disposition t o be otherwise than tedious and unpleasant. that his assistance extended no farther th an their maintenance for six months at Norland. from whence perhaps I may view you no more! --And you. As a house. But as they drew towards the end of it. they received an impression in its favour which was of material service in recom mending it to their lasting approbation. High hills rose immediately behind. about sixteen feet square. and each for the sake of the others resolved to appear happy. the others culti vated and woody. and in another course. "Dear. and from first seeing the place under the advantage of good weather. as she wandered alone before the house. and a neat wicket gate adm itted them into it. ye well-known trees!--but you will continue the same. The situation of the house was good. which a man of any consequence in the world was beyond calculation exposed to. Dashwood and her daughters to begin their journey. Barton Cottage. and a view of Barton Valley as they entered it gave them cheerfulness. Dash wood began shortly to give over every hope of the kind. Four bed-rooms and two garrets forme d the rest of the house. the roof was tiled. the season was fine. for the building was regular. unconscious of the pleasur e or the regret you occasion. It was a pleasant fertile spot. The prospect in front was more ex tensive. some of which were open downs. The village of Barton was chiefly on one of these hills.t be looked on as the most suitable period for its accomplishment. under another name. on the last evening of their being there. In comparison of Norland. it commanded the whole of the valley. it branched out again between two of the steepest of them. After winding along it for more than a mile. but as a cottage it was defective. and to be convinced. that he seemed rather to stand in need of more money himself than to have any de sign of giving money away.

and her visit was long enough to detract something from their first admiration. Sir John Middleton was a good looking man abou t forty. Dashwood as soon as she could be assured that her visit would be no inconvenience. and so leave the remainder of that other for an entrance. with a new drawing room which may be easily added. that. we may think about building. as it is too late in the year for improvements. this." In the mean time. and their comfort to be an object of real solicitude t o him. her fac e was handsome. and the elegance of her appearance was favourable to their wishes. Lady Middleton had sent a very civil message by him. as I dare say I shall. till all these alterations could be made from the savings of an income of five hundred a-year by a woman who never saved in her life. Hi s kindness was not confined to words. Her mann ers had all the elegance which her husband's wanted. will make it a very snug little cottage. "it is too sm all for our family. a l arge basket full of garden stuff and fruit arrived from the park. cold. and we will plan our improvements accord ingly. He said much of his earnest desire of their living in the most sociable t erms with his family. His countenance was thoroughly good-humoured. and as this message was answered by an invitation equally pol ite. and I have some thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them with perhaps a part of the other. I could wish the stairs were handsome. for within an hour after he left them. but it was too long for his young cousins to remember him. on c onveying all their letters to and from the post for them. Marianne's pianoforte was unpacked and properly disposed of. Perhaps in the spring.satisfied. for Sir John was very chatty. and a bed-chamber and garret above. her ladyship was introduced to them the next day. and each of them was bu sy in arranging their particular concerns. yet to add and improve was a delight to her. though I sup pose it would be no difficult matter to widen them. and pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park every day till they were better settled at home. she was reserved. Thes e parlors are both too small for such parties of our friends as I hope to see of ten collected here. who called to welcome them to Barton. and Lady Mid dleton had taken the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child. though perfec tly well-bred. moreover. for though her former style of life rendered many additions to the la tter indispensable. and she had at this time ready money enough to supply all that was wanted of greater elegance t o the apartments. and his m anners were as friendly as the style of his letter. by shewing that. of course. He insisted. and would not be denie d the satisfaction of sending them his newspaper every day. "As for the house itself. I shall see how much I am be fore-hand with the world in the spring. Conversation however was not wanted. In such employments as these they were interrupted soon after breakfast the nex t day by the entrance of their landlord. Their arrival seemed to affo rd him real satisfaction." said she. her figure tall and striking. and Elinor's drawings were affixed to th e walls of their sitting room. if I have plenty of money. He had formerly visited at Stanhill. though his entreaties were car ried to a point of perseverance beyond civility. Lady Middleton was not more than six or seven and twenty. and her address graceful. very anxious to see a person on whom so much of their com fort at Barton must depend. a . to be sure. They were. But one must not expect every thing. they we re wise enough to be contented with the house as it was. to form themselves a home. but we will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the pre sent. But they would have been im proved by some share of his frankness and warmth. denoting her intention of waiting on Mrs. they could not give offence. a nd to offer them every accommodation from his own house and garden in which thei rs might at present be deficient. and had nothing to say for herself beyond the most common-place inquiry or remark. by placing around th em books and other possessions. and endeavoring. which was foll owed before the end of the day by a present of game.

who wondered at his being so shy before company. pretty. he had all the satisfac tion of a sportsman. unconnected with such as society produced. They were scarcely ever withou t some friends staying with them in the house. a nd in every point of view he was charmed with the inhabitants he had now procure d for his cottage at Barton. The house was large and handsome. The Miss Dashwoods were young. The frie ndliness of his disposition made him happy in accommodating those. An opportunity was soon to be given to the Dashwoods of debating on the rest of the children. for to be unaffected was all that a pretty girl could want to make her mind as captivating as her person. and the noisier they were the better was he pleased. and ask him questions which his mother answe red for him. and of all her do mestic arrangements. and in what particular he resembled either. to the great surpri se of her ladyship. but it was screened from their view at home by the projection of a hill. and every bod y was astonished at the opinion of the others. who welcomed them to Barton Park with unaffected sincerity. CHAPTER 7 Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. But Sir John's satisfaction in society was much more real. Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of her table. in comparison with the past. On every formal visit a child ought to be of the par ty. He was a blessing to all the juvenile part of the neighbourhood. supplied all the deficiencies of nature and education. however. by which means there was one subject always to be recurred to by the ladies in case of extremity. Lady Midd leton had the advantage of being able to spoil her children all the year round. Dashwood and her daughters were met at the door of the house by Sir John. C ontinual engagements at home and abroad. It was enough to secure his good opinion. and in winter his private balls were numerous enough for any young lady who was not suffering under the unsatia ble appetite of fifteen. It was necessary to the happ iness of both. In showing kindness to his cousins therefore he had the real satisfaction of a good heart. and she humoured her children. whose situati on might be considered. as unfortunate. The arrival of a new family in the country was always a matter of joy to him. as Sir John would not leave the house without securing their prom ise of dining at the park the next day. while Sir John's independent employments were in existence only half the time. and unaffect ed. The former was for Sir John' s gratification. is not often desirous of encouraging their taste by ad mitting them to a residence within his own manor. by way of provision for discourse. he delighted in collecting about him more young people than his house would hol d. and in settling a family of females only in his cottage. admire his beauty. while he hung about her and held down his head. as he could make noise enough at home. and these were their only resources. and gave exerci se to the good breeding of his wife. for a sportsman. they stro ngly resembled each other in that total want of talent and taste which confined their employments.fine little boy about six years old. and from this kind of vanity was her greatest enjoyment in any of their parties. and the Middletons lived in a style of equal hospitality and elegance. for they had to enquire h is name and age. for of course every body differed. supported the good spirits of Sir John. Sir John was a sportsman. the latter for that of his lady. for in summer he was for ever forming p arties to eat cold ham and chicken out of doors. and as he attended t . The ladies had passed near it in their way along the valley. though he esteems only those of his sex wh o are sportsmen likewise. Lady Middleton a mother. In the present case it took up ten minute s to determine whether the boy were most like his father or mother. and they kept more company of eve ry kind than any other family in the neighbourhood. for however dissimilar in temper and outward behaviour. within a very narr ow compass. Mrs. He hunted and sho t.

than Lady Middleton was to be his wife. and asked Marian ne to sing a particular song which Marianne had just finished. for he was on the wrong side of five and thirty. though it amounted not to that ecstatic delight which alone could sympathize with her own. The young ladies. seemed very happy. but the cold insipidity of Lady Middleton was so particularly repulsive. and which perhaps h ad lain ever since in the same position on the pianoforte. and as she was a very cheerful agreeable woman. but it was moonlight and every body was full of engagements. He was silent and grave. was estimable when contrasted against the horrible inse nsibility of the others. They would see. the friend of Sir John. He hoped they would all excuse the smallness of the party. seemed no more adapted by resemblance of manner to be his friend. Jennings. Mrs. were perfectly sati sfied with having two entire strangers of the party. Luckily Lady Middleton's m other had arrived at Barton within the last hour. a particular friend who was staying at the park. and before dinner was over had said many witty thing s on the subject of lovers and husbands. He had been to several fa milies that morning in hopes of procuring some addition to their number. that in comparison of it the gravity of Colonel Brandon. which the others had reasonably forfeited by their shameless want of taste. only one gentleman there besides hi mself. as well as their mother. Lady Middle ton seemed to be roused to enjoyment only by the entrance of her four noisy chil dren after dinner. and could assure them it should never happen so again. he said. Sir John was loud in his admiratio n at the end of every song. She was perfectly disposed to make every allowance for t he colonel's advanced state of life which humanity required. and his add ress was particularly gentlemanlike. who pulled her about. at being unable to get any smart youn g men to meet them. fat. who talked a great deal. and even the boisterous mirth of Sir John and his mother-in-law was interesting. and rather vulgar. In the evening. His appearance howe ver was not unpleasing. she had played extremely well. and as loud in his conversation with the others whil e every song lasted. hoped they had not left their hearts be hind them in Sussex. but who was neither very young nor very gay. She was full of jokes and laughter. and by her own was very fond of it. and she felt a respect for him on the occasion. and wished for no more. Jennings's. and put an end to eve ry kind of discourse except what related to themselves. Colonel Brandon a lone. at their request went through the chief of the songs which Lady Middleton had brought into the family on her marriage. Ma rianne was vexed at it for her sister's sake. with an earnestness which gave Elinor far mo re pain than could arise from such common-place raillery as Mrs. was a good-humoured. and Marianne . he hoped the young ladies would not find it so very dull as th ey might imagine. He paid her only th e compliment of attention. as Marianne was discovered to be musical. tore her clothes. . and pretended to see them blush whether they did or not. and she was reasonable enough to allow that a man of fi ve and thirty might well have outlived all acuteness of feeling and every exquis ite power of enjoyment. The instrument was unlocked. Colonel Brandon. for her ladyship had celebrated that event by giving up music. who sang very well. every body prepared to be charmed. merry. Jenn ings to be Lady Middleton's mother. in spite of his being in the opinion of Marianne and Mar garet an absolute old bachelor. his countenance was sensible. elderl y woman. There was nothing in any of the party which could recommend them as companions to the Dashwoods. of all the party. although by her mother's account. Marianne's performance was highly applauded. Lady Middleton's mother. His pleas ure in music. heard her without being in raptures.hem to the drawing room repeated to the young ladies the concern which the same subject had drawn from him the day before. and turned her eyes towards Elinor to see how she bore these attacks. Lady Middleton frequently called him to order. or Mrs. but though his face was not handsome. she was invited to pl ay. wondered how any one's attention could be diverted from music for a moment.

and in the cottage at Marianne. It is too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe from such wit. b oth of whom she had lived to see respectably married. and she was always anxious to get a good husband for every pretty girl. for she c onsidered it as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel's advanced years. a s far as it regarded only himself.CHAPTER 8 Mrs. Jennings. It would be an excellent match. "thirty-five and seventeen had better not have any thin . Jennings from the probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age. ventured to clear Mrs. must have long outlived every sensation of the k ind. if age and in firmity will not protect him?" "Infirmity!" said Elinor. and when the visit was returned by the Middletons' di ning at the cottage. laughing. "But at least. She rather suspected it to be so. perfectly indifferent. She had only two daughters. Mrs." said her mother. you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation. Jennings was a widow with an ample jointure. and she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the world. you are not doing me justice. who could not think a man five years younger than herself. though yo u may not think it intentionally ill-natured. "do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can easily sup pose that his age may appear much greater to you than to my mother." "Perhaps. Mama. Colonel Brandon is certainly young er than Mrs. At the park she laughed at the col onel. and when its object was understood. and if he were ever animated enough to be in love. She was remarkably quick in the discovery of attachments. The immediate advantage to herself was by no means inconsiderable. Dashwood. or censure its impertinence. I know very well that Colonel Brandon is n ot old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course o f nature. ever since her connection with Sir John first brought him to her knowledge. for it suppl ied her with endless jokes against them both. But thirty-five has nothing to do wit h matrimony. the fact was ascertained by his listening to her again. but he is old enough to be MY father. and this kind of discernment enabled her soon after her arrival at Barton decisively to pronounce that Colonel Brandon wa s very much in love with Marianne Dashwood. To the former her raillery was probably. from his listening so attentive ly while she sang to them." "Mama. He may live twenty years longer. so ex ceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful fancy of her daughter. and had enjoyed the ad vantage of raising the blushes and the vanity of many a young lady by insinuatio ns of her power over such a young man. and on his forlorn condition as an old bachelor. as far as her ability reached. Jennings had been anxious to see Colo nel Brandon well married." said Elinor. and SHE was handsome. She was perfectly convinced of it. In the promotion of this o bject she was zealously active. f or HE was rich. but to the latter it w as at first incomprehensible. "at this rate you must be in con tinual terror of MY decay. and missed no opp ortunity of projecting weddings among all the young people of her acquaintance. on the very first evening of their being together. It must be so. and it must seem to you a miracle that my life has be en extended to the advanced age of forty. she hardly kne w whether most to laugh at its absurdity. Mrs. but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use of his limbs!" "Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? and is not that the commonest infirmity of declining life?" "My dearest child.

"I have an alarm on the subject of illness which I cannot conceal from you. To me it would seem only a comm ercial exchange. when I talked of his coming to Barton. to make him a desirable companion to her. but of course she must." "How strange this is! what can be the meaning of it! But the whole of their beh aviour to each other has been unaccountable! How cold." "A woman of seven and twenty. It would be a compact of convenience. in quitting Norland and Edward." "Had he been only in a violent fever." "But he talked of flannel waistcoats. or appear restless and dis satisfied in it?" CHAPTER 9 . We have now been here almost a fortnight. and quick pulse of a fever?" Soon after this. Twice did I leave them purp osely together in the course of the last morning. When is she deject ed or melancholy? When does she try to avoid society. What else can detain him at Norland?" "Had you any idea of his coming so soon?" said Mrs. "and with me a flannel wa istcoat is invariably connected with aches. I should not think Colonel Brandon's being thirty-five any objection to his marrying HER." said Marianne. and yet he does not come." "It would be impossible. hollow eye." said Marianne. if I have felt any anxiety at all on the subject. Dashwood. "Mama." said Marianne. in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of the othe r. as it was not likely that the room would be wanted for some t ime." replied Elinor. rheumatisms. for when I was talking to her yesterday of ge tting a new grate for the spare bedchamber. after pausing a moment. "to convince you that a woman of seven and twenty could feel for a man of thirty-five anything near enough to love. I can suppose that she might bring herself to submit to the o ffices of a nurse. Confess. but that would be nothing. how composed were their l ast adieus! How languid their conversation the last evening of their being toget her! In Edward's farewell there was no distinction between Elinor and me: it was the good wishes of an affectionate brother to both. and each time did he most unac countably follow me out of the room. Marianne. and the world would be satisfied. upon Elinor's leaving the room. and every speci es of ailment that can afflict the old and the feeble. In my eyes it would b e no marriage at all. And Elinor. I am sure E dward Ferrars is not well. and if her home be uncomfortable. or her fortune small. for the sake of the provision and security of a wife. "can neve r hope to feel or inspire affection again. Does Elinor expect him a lready?" "I have never mentioned it to her." "I rather think you are mistaken. she observed that there was no immed iate hurry for it. But I must object to your doomi ng Colonel Brandon and his wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber.g to do with matrimony together. is not there something interesting to you in the flushed cheek. "I had none. cried not as I did. it has been in re collecting that he sometimes showed a want of pleasure and readiness in acceptin g my invitation. you would not have despised him half so m uch. m erely because he chanced to complain yesterday (a very cold damp day) of a sligh t rheumatic feel in one of his shoulders. cramps. On t he contrary. But if there should by any chance happen to be a woman who is single at seven and twenty. Nothing but real indisposition could occasion this extraordinary delay. Even now her self-command is invariable. In his marrying such a woman therefore there would be nothing unsuitable. I know.

rejoicing in their own penetration at every glim pse of blue sky. were now become familiar. they were obliged. attracted by the partial sunshine of a showery sky. There were but few who could be so classed. was unfo rtunately too infirm to mix with the world. She had raised herself from the ground. Sir John Middleton. and reached the bottom in safety. an elderly lady of very good character. He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. The house and the garden. on enquiry. The high downs which invited them from almost every window of the cottage to seek the exquisite enjoy ment of air on their summits. when her accident happened. and never stirred from home." Margaret agreed. and they pursued their way against the wind. They set off. and towards one of these hills did Marianne and Margaret one memorable morning direct their steps. and it was not all of them that we re attainable." said Marianne. by reminding them a little of Norland. "Is there a felicity in the world. The weather was n ot tempting enough to draw the two others from their pencil and their book. and the two girls set off together. with two pointers playing round him. and who was not in the habit of seeing much occ upation at home. A gentleman carrying a gun. the independe nce of Mrs. were a happy alternative when the dirt of the vall eys beneath shut up their superior beauties. to wh ich the exigence of the moment gave more than usual propriety. About a mile and a half from the cottage. Marianne had at first the advantage. and repeated assurances of his carriage being always at their service. 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 a fford. since the loss of their father. in spite of Sir John's urgent entreaties that they would mix more in the neighbourhood. One consolation however remained for them. and when they caught in their faces the animating gales of a hi gh south-westerly wind. as formerly described. in one of their earliest walks. and that ev ery threatening cloud would be drawn off from their hills. But they learnt. "superior to this?--Margaret .Chagrined and surprised. was passing up the hill and within a few yards of Marianne. . and unable longer to bear the confinement wh ich the settled rain of the two preceding days had occasioned. when suddenly the clouds unit ed over their heads. unable to stop herself to assist her. and she was resolute in declining to visit any family beyond the distance of a walk . but a false step brought her suddenly to the ground. were not many. The whole country about them abounded in beautiful walks. that its possessor. we will walk here at least two hours. Dashwood's spirit overcame the wish of society for her children.The Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with tolerable comfort to themselves. in s pite of Marianne's declaration that the day would be lastingly fair. who called on them ev ery day for the first fortnight. it was that of ru nning with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill which led immediat ely to their garden gate. along the narrow windin g valley of Allenham. They gaily ascended the downs. and a driving rain set full in their face. interested their i magination and made them wish to be better acquainted with it. which issued from that of Barton. t he girls had. they pitied the fears which had prevented their mother a nd Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations. except those from Barton Park. for. for no shelter w as nearer than their own house. though unwillingly. and Margaret. was involuntarily hurried along. could not conceal his amazement on finding them always employed .-. discovered an ancient respectable looking mansion which. to turn back. resisting it with laughing delight for about twenty minutes longer. Their visitors. with all the objects surrounding them.

had robbed her of the power of regarding him after their entering the house. His manly beauty and more than common gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration. in the midst of a heavy rain. and he then departed. Mrs. and the laugh which his gallantry raised against Marianne re ceived particular spirit from his exterior attractions. Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance. and with an energy which always adorned her praise. Had h e been even old.-. he bore her directly into the house. I will ride over tomorrow. whithe r Margaret was just arrived.but her foot had been twisted in her fall. received additional charms from his voice and expression. there was a rapidity of thought which particularly recommended the action to her . and there is not a bolder rider in England. Dashwood. he is down here every year. But she had seen enough of him to join in all the admiration of the others. The gentleman offered his services. his re sidence was in their favourite village. and in his carrying her into the house with so little previous formality. "what. and perceiving that her modesty declined wha t her situation rendered necessary. and quitted not his hold till he had seated her in a chair in the parlour. His name. and the pain of a sprained ankle was disregarded. and she soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming. Dashwood then begged to know to whom she was obliged.Marianne herself had s een less of his Mama the rest. as he was dirty an d wet. and vulgar. is HE in the country? That is good news ho wever." said Mrs. took her up in his arms without farther dela y. ugly. and his present home was at Allenham. which was unco mmonly handsome. indignantly. and while the eye s of both were fixed on him with an evident wonder and a secret admiration which equally sprung from his appearance." "And what sort of a young man is he?" "As good a kind of fellow as ever lived." "You know him then. and she was scarcely able to stand." "And is that all you can say for him?" cried Marianne. "Know him! to be sure I do. on his lifting her up. in a manner so frank and so graceful that his person. the gratitude and kindness of Mrs. She thanked him again and again. beauty. and elegance. the gate of w hich had been left open by Margaret. Every circumstance belonging to him was interesting. Dashwood w ould have been secured by any act of attention to her child. but the influence o f youth. and Marianne's accident being related to him . and ask him to dinner on Thursday. from whence he hop ed she would allow him the honour of calling tomorrow to enquire after Miss Dash wood. he r eplied. But this he declined. was Willoughby. "But what a re his manners on more intimate acquaintance? What his pursuits. Then passing through the garden. His person a nd air were equal to what her fancy had ever drawn for the hero of a favourite s tory. to make himself stil l more interesting. and. his talents. Sir John called on them as soon as the next interval of fair weather that morni ng allowed him to get out of doors. he was eagerly asked whether he knew any gentleman of the name of Willoughby a t Allenham. Her imagination was busy. "Willoughby!" cried Sir John. The honour was readily granted. I assure you. with a sweetness of address which always attended her. A very decent shot. he apologized for his intrusion by relating its cause. an . Why. His name was good. gave an interest to the action which came home to her feelings. and carried her down the hill. invited him to be seated. her reflections were pleasant. for the confusion which crimsoned over her face.

"I remember last Christmas at a little hop at the park. Whatever be his pur suits. "Ay. and if I were you. adding. that is what a young man ought to be. Miss Dashwood. and never think of poor Brandon. and he told them t hat Mr. good humoured fellow. but he laughed as heartily as if he did. and one whose acq uaintance will not be ineligible. in spite of all this tumbling about and spraining of ankles. to whom he was re lated. I am glad to find. W illoughby will be incommoded by the attempts of either of MY daughters towards w hat you call CATCHING him. "Where does he come from? Has he a house at Allen ham?" On this point Sir John could give more certain intelligence. if she doe s not take care." said Sir John.d genius?" Sir John was rather puzzled. warmly.' are the most odious of all. aye. Miss Marianne mus t not expect to have all the men to herself. Poor Brandon ! he is quite smitten already." "He is as good a sort of fellow. Thei r tendency is gross and illiberal. Sir John. he is very we ll worth catching I can tell you.' or 'making a conquest." repeated Sir John. he has a pretty little estate o f his own in Somersetshire besides. time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity." "That is what I like. But he i s a pleasant." said Marianne. Was she out with him today?" But Marianne could no more satisfy him as to the colour of Mr. I believe. and whose possessions he was to inherit." "That is an expression. "Yes. Willoughby's poi nter. and 'setti ng one's cap at a man. "But who is he?" said Elinor. let them be ever so rich. Men are very safe with us. Dashwood. I abhor every common-place phrase by which wit is intended. It is not an employment to which they have been broug ht up. his eagerness in them should know no moderation." said Mrs. and leave him no sense o f fatigue. with a good humoured smile. "which I particularly dislike. with s pirit?" "Yes. "I see how it will be. you will make conquests enough. I see how it will be. as ever lived. he danced from eight o'c lock till four. from what you say." "Did he indeed?" cried Marianne with sparkling eyes. "Upon my soul. "that Mr." "I do not believe. h owever. I would not give him up t o my younger sister. in spite of all this tumbling down hills." said he. "and with elegance. that he is a respectable young man. I can tell you. one way or other." "Aye. I dare say. than he could describe to her the shades of his mind. and then replied. Brandon will be jealous." . yes. and he is very well worth setting your cap at. and if their construction could ever be deeme d clever. Willoughby had no property of his own in the country. and has got the nicest little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw. and he was up again at eight to ride to covert. You wil l be setting your cap at him now. "I do not know much about him as to all THAT. without once sitting down." Sir John did not much understand this reproof. that he resided th ere only while he was visiting the old lady at Allenham Court.

however dis regarded before. He was received by Mrs. dull. caught all her e nthusiasm." said Elinor. too happy. I have been too much at my ease. called at the cottage early the next morning to make his personal enqu iries. It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her to talk. and every thi ng that passed during the visit tended to assure him of the sense. though not so correct as her sister's. and you have received every assurance of his admiring Pope no more than is proper. Another meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments on picturesque beauty. Marianne was still handsomer. and she had neither s hyness nor reserve in their discussion.CHAPTER 10 Marianne's preserver. it lasted no longer than till the force of her arguments and the brightness of h er eyes could be displayed. she was called a beautiful girl. they conversed with the familiar ity of a long-established acquaintance. there was a life. and long before his visit concluded. Marianne."-"Elinor. The same books." cried Marianne. I have been open and sincere where I ought to have been reserved. an eagerness. Willoughby's o pinion in almost every matter of importance. "is this fair? is this just? are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you mean. that any young man of five and twenty must have been insensible indeed. with a kindne ss which Sir John's account of him and her own gratitude prompted. she proceeded to question him on the subject of books . Her form. "for ONE morning I think you have done pretty well. mut ual affection. too frank. and that it arose from a general conformi ty of judgment in all that related to either. regular features. and ab ove all. her complexion was uncommonly brilliant. under such extraordinary despatch of every subject for discourse? You will soon have exhausted each favourite topi c. and then you can have nothing farther to ask. she gave him such a look of approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse to herself for the rest of his stay. her features were all good. You have already ascertained Mr. Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion. They speedily discovered that their enjo yment of dancing and music was mutual. which could hardily be seen without delight. Encouraged by this to a further ex amination of his opinions. truth was less violently outraged than usually happens. but. with more elegance than precision. Of their personal charms he had not required a second interview to be convinced. and domestic comfort of the family to whom accident had now intro duced him. that of music and dancing he was passionate ly fond. You know what he thinks of Cowper a nd Scott. He acquiesced in all her decisions. by the embarrassment which the remembrance of his assistance created. this reproach would have been spared. in having the advantage of height. you are certain of his estimating their beauties as he ought. he united frankness and vivacity. and a remarkably pre tty figure. and had I spoken only once in ten minutes. But h ow is your acquaintance to be long supported. I have erred against every common-place notion of decorum. Her skin was very brown. as Margaret. a spirit. when her spirits became collected. the same pass ages were idolized by each--or if any difference appeared. as soon as he had left them. her favourite authors were brought forward and dwelt upon with so rapturous a delight. whi ch were very dark. "Well. But whe n this passed away. not to become an immediate convert to the excellence of such works. and deceitful--ha d I talked only of the weather and the roads. styled Wi lloughby. Dashwood with more than politeness. and her face wa s so lovely. spiritless." . and second marriages. from its transparency. was more striking. elegance. any objection arose. when she saw that to the perfect good-breeding of the gentleman. From Willoughby their expression was at first held bac k. and in her eyes. her smile was sweet and attractive. Their taste was strikingly alike. when she heard him declare. She could not be silent when such points were introduced. that when in the common cant of praise.

an equ ally striking opposition of character was no hindrance to the regard of Colonel Brandon. when it ceased to be noti ced by them. and the raillery which the other had incurred before any partiality arose. was led before the end of a week to hop e and expect it. but never had any confinement been less i rksome. if she were capable of wishing to check the delight of your conversation with our new friend. of saying too much what he thought on every occasion. as hi s abilities were strong. which justified her be . She saw it with concern. Willoughby was all that her fancy had delineat ed in that unhappy hour and in every brighter period. Jennings had assigned him for her own satisfaction. on his side. she heartily wished him indifferent. to believe that the se ntiments which Mrs. she beheld in him an object of interest. when opposed to a very lively one of five and twenty? and as she could no t even wish him successful. now first became perceptible to Elinor. in whose mind not one speculative thought of their marriage had been raised. Willoughby. by his prospect of riches. by Marianne's perfect recovery. Colonel Brandon's partiality for Marianne. She wa s confined for some days to the house. They read. "you must not be offended with Elinor--she was only in jest. Dashwood's estimation he was as faultless as in Marianne's. Willoughby. which had so early been discovered b y his friends. they talk ed. gave every proof of his pleasure in their acquaintance .Marianne was softened in a moment. To enquire after Marianne was at first his excuse. of ever seeing a man who could satisfy her ideas of perfection. Elinor was obliged. though unwillingly. He came to them every day. in which he strongly resembled a nd peculiarly delighted her sister."-. I should scold her myself. Sir Joh n had dropped hints of past injuries and disappointments. but the encouragement of his reception. for with all this. and in slighting too easily the forms of worldly propriety. had been rash and unjustifiable. affectionate manners. and his reserve appeared rather the result of some oppression of spirits than of any natural gloominess of temper. Her mother too. She liked him-in spite of his gravity and reserve. and which recommended him to her affection beyond every thing else. which an evident wish of improving it could offer. was removed when his feelings began really to call for the ridicule so justly annexe d to sensibility. and Elinor saw nothing to censure in him but a propensity. Hi s manners."My love. quick imagination. they sang together. were now actually excited by her sister. and secretly to congratulate herself on having gained two such sons-in-law as Edward and Willoughby. Marianne began now to perceive that the desperation which had seized her at six teen and a half. in spite of all that he and Marianne could say in its supp ort." said her mother. for what could a silent man of five and thirty hope. to which every day gave greater kindness. and his behaviour declared his wishes to be in that respect as earnest. In hastily forming and giving his opinion of other people. Their attention and wit were drawn off to his more fortunate rival. He was exactly formed to engage Mariann e's heart. Willoughby was a young man of good abilities. and he read with all the sensibility and spirit which Edward had unfortunately wanted. and open. his musical talents were considerable. without attention to persons or circumstances. made such an excuse unneces sary before it had ceased to be possible. in sacrificing general politeness to the enj oyment of undivided attention where his heart was engaged. were mild. though serious. he displayed a want of caution which Elin or could not approve. lively spirits. as capable of attaching he r. but a nat ural ardour of mind which was now roused and increased by the example of her own . His society became gradually her most exquisite enjoyment. and that however a general resemblance of dispo sition between the parties might forward the affection of Mr. In Mrs. he joined not only a captivating person.

I doubt not." cried Marianne contemptuously. "he has told you. "and so much on the strength of your own imagination. had I made any such inquiries. but as for the esteem of the others. has more money tha n he can spend. that could command the indifference of any body else?" "But perhaps the abuse of such people as yourself and Marianne will make amends for the regard of Lady Middleton and her mother. more time than he knows how to employ." "Add to which. however. I consider him. when they were talk ing of him together." cried Marianne. "Brandon is just the kind of man. and palanquins. for they are not more undiscerning. wh om all are delighted to see. and has a thinking min d. He is highly esteemed by all the family at the park. and sense will always have att ractions for me. "Do not boast of it. as a very respectable m an. But why should you dislike him?" "I do not dislike him. Jennings." "You decide on his imperfections so much in the mass. that in the East Indies the climate is hot. Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more because he was slighted by Willoug hby and Marianne." cried Marianne." "That is exactly what I think of him. has been abroad. Marianne. who has every body's good word. his feelings no ardour. "that he has neither genius. and two new coats every y ear. prejudiced against him for being neither lively nor young . a nd he has always answered my inquiries with readiness of good-breeding and good nature. If their praise is censure." "My protege." said Elinor. and I never see him mysel f without taking pains to converse with him. and nobody remembers to talk to." replied Willoughby. and nobody's notice. nor spirit. but they happened to be points on which I had been previously informed. "whom every body speaks well of. who. and she regarded him with respect and comp assion. taste. who. Who would sub mit to the indignity of being approved by such a woman as Lady Middleton and Mrs . that the commendation I am able to give of him is comparatively cold and insipid." said Willoughby. as you call him. He has s een a great deal of the world." said Willoughby one day. is a sensible man." "Perhaps. "is certainly in his favour . and the mosquitoes are troublesome. yo ur censure may be praise.lief of his being an unfortunate man." "That is to say. than you are preju diced and unjust. Yes. on the contrary. even in a man between thirty and forty. gold mohrs. "for it is injustice in both of you ." "In defence of your protege you can even be saucy." "I may venture to say that HIS observations have stretched much further than yo ur candour. it is a reproach in itself. That his understanding has no brilliancy. and nobody cares about. has read. seemed resolved to undervalue his merits." replied Elinor. I have found him capable of giving me much information on various subjects." "He WOULD have told me so. "his observations may have extended to the existenc e of nabobs." "That he is patronised by YOU. and his voice no expression. I can only pronounce him to be a .

to be told." cried Willoughby. Elinor's happiness was not so great. and of receivin g. but ridicule could not shame. and I cannot persuade him to buy my brown mare. was more likely to be softened than she had thought it possible before. Dashwood entered into all their feelings with a warmth which left her no i nclination for checking this excessive display of them. appeared to her not merely an unnecessary e ffort. by the c harms which his society bestowed on her present home. he has found fault with the hanging of my curricle. And in return for an acknowledgment. but a disgraceful subjection of reason to common-place and mistaken notio ns. that I believe his character to be in other respects irrep roachable." CHAPTER 11 Little had Mrs. You are ende avouring to disarm me by reason. was clever. and their behaviour at all times. nor that could teach her to think . or that they should have such frequent invitations and such constant visitors as to leave them little leisure for serious employment. in her behaviour to himself. that so many engagements would arise to occupy their time as shortly p resented themselves. and the ease and familiarity which naturally att ended these parties were exactly calculated to give increasing intimacy to his a cquaintance with the Dashwoods. you cannot deny me the privilege of disliking him as muc h as ever. But it will not do. which she brought with her from Sussex. of marking his animated admiration of her. and." "Miss Dashwood. She only wished that it were less openly shewn. however. Every thing he did.sensible man. they were partners for ha lf the time. of gentle address. I believe. In every meeting of th e kind Willoughby was included. The private balls at the park then began. well-informed. Her heart was devoted to Willough by. Such conduct made t hem of course most exceedingly laughed at. well-bred. he cheated himself and all the rest of the party to get her a go od hand. and to convince me against my will. When Marianne was recovered. was r ight. This was the season of happiness to Marianne. and when obliged to separate for a couple of dances. Every thing he said. and to aim at the restraint of sentiments whic h were not in themselves illaudable. he threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine. You shall find me as stubborn as you can be artful. were careful t o stand together and scarcely spoke a word to any body else. Yet s uch was the case. Dashwood or her daughters imagined when they first came into De vonshire. But Marianne abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could attend unreserve. were put into execution. Her heart was not so much at ease. and the fond attachment to Norland. the most pointed assurance of her affection. was an illust ration of their opinions. Elinor could not be surprised at their attachment. When he was present she had no eyes for any one else. I am ready to confess it. To her it was but the na tural consequence of a strong affection in a young and ardent mind. to afford him opportunity of witnessing the exce llencies of Marianne. If it will be any satisfaction to you. which Sir John had been previously forming. and parties on the water were made an d accomplished as often as a showery October would allow. I have three unansw erable reasons for disliking Colonel Brandon. and once or twice did venture to suggest the propriety of so me self-command to Marianne. which must give me some pain. the schemes of amusement at home and abroad. and see med hardly to provoke them. They afforded her no companion that c ould make amends for what she had left behind. Mrs. If dancing formed the amusement of the night. poss essing an amiable heart. nor her satisfaction in their amusements so pure. Willoughby thought the same. "you are now using me unkindly. If their evenings at the park were conclu ded with cards.

Elinor's compassion for him increased. She had nothing to say one day that she had not sa id the day before. Jennings's last illness. I understand. Willoughby was out of the question. and had Elinor's memory been equal to her means o f improvement. Towards her hus band and mother she was the same as to them. she never appeared to receive more enjoyment from them than she might hav e experienced in sitting at home.of Norland with less regret than ever." "No. but he wa s a lover. of all her new acquaintance. This suspicion was give n by some words which accidently dropped from him one evening at the park. for even her spirits were alwa ys the same. as she had reason to suspect that the mi sery of disappointed love had already been known to him." he replied. "Your sister. with a faint smile. and then they may be more easy to define and to justify than they now are. His eyes were fixed on Marianne. Jennings could supply to her the conversation she missed. by any body but herself." replied Elinor. by any share in their conversation. Her admiration and regard. and a far less agreeable man m ight have been more generally pleasing. "and yet there is something so am iable in the prejudices of a young mind. Lady Middleton was more agreeable than her mother only in be ing more silent. she considers them impossible to exist. Elinor needed little observation to perceive that her reserve w as a mere calmness of manner with which sense had nothing to do. Her systems have all the unfortunate tendency of setting propriety at nought. "her opinions are all romantic. provided every thing were conducted in style and her two eldest children attende d her. and from the first had regarded her with a kindness which ensur ed her a large share of her discourse. unfortunately for himse lf. Her insipidity was invariable. she might have known very early in their acquaintance all the par ticulars of Mr. and in conversing with Elinor he found the greatest consolation for the indifference of her sister." "I believe she does. as I believe. and what he said to his wife a few minu tes before he died. was all his own. I know not. "There are inconveniences attendi ng such feelings as Marianne's." After a short pause he resumed the conversation by saying. She had already repeated her own history to Elinor three or four times. In Colonel Brandon alone. although the latter was an eve rlasting talker.--and so little did her presence add to the ple asure of the others. had no such encouragement to think only of Marianne. excite the interest of friendship. when they were sitting down together by mutual consent." "I cannot agree with you there. But how she contrives it without reflecting on the charact er of her own father. does not approve of second att achments. or give pleasure as a companion. who had himself two wives. Neither Lady Middleton nor Mrs. that one is sorry to see them give way to the reception of more general opinions. and. and a better acquaintance with the world is what I look forward to as her greatest possible advantage. his attentions were wholly Marianne's. A few years however will settle her opinions on the reasonable basis of common sense and observatio n. while the others were dancing ." said Elinor.-- . after a silence of some minutes. did Elinor find a person who could in any degree claim the respect of abilities. that they were sometime s only reminded of her being amongst them by her solicitude about her troublesom e boys. even her sisterly regard. and intimacy was therefore neither to be looked for nor desired." "This will probably be the case." "Or rather. he said . which all the charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of the world cannot atone for. Colonel Brandon. and though she did not oppose the parties arranged by her husband.

Elinor. surprised her by its extravagant testimony of both." "This. But Marianne. build a stable to receive them. a total change of sentiments--No. which in spite of all that she knew before of Marianne's imprudence and want of thought. As i t was. appeared to think that he had said too much. I only know that I never yet heard her admit any instance of a second attachment's bein g pardonable." said she warmly. and too dangerous! I speak from experience. I once knew a lady who in temper and mind greatly resembled your sister. than from Willoughby. and which was exactly calculated to carry a woman. would not have done so little. that if she were to alter he r resolution in favour of this gift. Without considering that it was not in her mother's plan to keep any horse. . Elinor attempted no more. no." Most unwilling was she to awaken from such a dream of felicity to comprehend al l the unhappy truths which attended the affair. in h er place. CHAPTER 12 As Elinor and Marianne were walking together the next morning the latter commun icated a piece of news to her sister. or the pe rverseness of circumstances. than I am with any other creature in the world. You shall share its use with me. with the greatest delight. and for some time she refused to submit to them. though we have lived together for years. to be equally indifferent during the rest of their lives?" "Upon my word. but a change. and every thing established in the most m elancholy order of disastrous love." she added . Of John I know very little. "You are mistaken. This was too much."Does your sister make no distinction in her objections against a second attach ment? or is it equally criminal in every body? Are those who have been disappoin ted in their first choice. which might not otherwise have entered Eli nor's head.--it is disposit ion alone. "and when it arrives we will ride every day. my dear Elinor. Elinor then ventured to doubt the propriety of her receiving such a present f rom a man so little. one that he had bred himself on his estate in Somersetsh ire. she must buy another for the servant. but I am much better acquainted with him. how frequently are they succeeded by such opinions as are but t oo common. I should hold mysel f guilty of greater impropriety in accepting a horse from my brother. "He intends to send his groom into Somersetshire immediately for it. but who from an inforced change--from a series of unfortunate circumstances"-Here he stopt suddenly. and after all. the delight of a gallop on some of these do wns. I have not known him long indeed. for when the romantic refinements of a young mind are obli ged to give way. and any horse would do for HIM. Mam a she was sure would never object to it. had he not co nvinced Miss Dashwood that what concerned her ought not to escape his lips. as to a stable. that Willoughby had given her a horse. I am not acquainted with the minutiae of her principles." said he. It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy. Imagine to yourself. The whole story would have been speedil y formed under her active imagination. "cannot hold. and by his countenance gave rise to conjectures. he migh t always get one at the park. and seven days are more than enough for others. the expense would be a trifle. whether from the inconstancy of its object. "in supposing I know very little o f Willoughby. or at least so lately known to her. the merest shed would be sufficien t. Marianne told her. except yourself and ma ma. she had accepted the present without hesitation. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other. who thought and judged like her. it required but a slight effort of fancy to connect his emotion with the tender recollection of past regard. and k eep a servant to ride it. do not desire it. The lady would probably have passed without suspicion. As to an additional servant. and told her sister of it in raptures.

Elinor could not withhold her c redit. to disco ver it by accident. had h ad opportunity for observations. by being left some time in the parlour with only him and Marianne. indeed. stated on such authority. I am sure she will be married to Mr." This was all overheard by Miss Dashwood. Willoughby had spent the preceding evening with them. "I have such a secret to tell you about Marianne. th at it must be declined. and after expr essing it with earnestness. Marianne. with a most important face. Elinor. and in his addressing her sister by her Christian n ame alone. Opposition on so tender a subject would only attach her the more to her own opinion. which placed this matter in a s till clearer light." "But. they we re whispering and talking together as fast as could be. From that moment she doubted not of their being engaged to each other. She knew her sister's tem per. in h is manner of pronouncing it. and they were such as to make further entrea ty on his side impossible. Last night after tea. in the same low voice. he added. and put it into his pocket-book. Elinor heard her express her disappointment to him in a low voice. should be left by tempers so frank. and he kissed it. it is Marianne's. and when Willoughby called at the cottage. Margaret related something to her the next day." For such particulars. and she promised not to tempt her mother to such imprudent ki ndness by mentioning the offer. before you were certain that Marianne wore his picture round her neck. When you leave Barton to form your own establishment in a more lasting home. for he has got a lock of her hair. Marianne wa s shortly subdued. and he seemed to be begg ing something of her. and in the whole of the sentence. I believe. but it turned out t o be only the miniature of our great uncle. Margaret's sagacity was not always displayed in a way so satisfactory to her si . the sa me day. th e horse is still yours. and the belief of it created no other surprise than that she. The reasons for this altera tion were at the same time related. for the circumstance was in perfect unison wi th what she had heard and seen herself. and to tell Willoughby when she saw him next. as mar ked a perfect agreement between them. She was faithful to her word. though you cannot use it now. and fol ded it up in a piece of white paper. for it was all tumbled down her back. she communic ated to her eldest sister." "But indeed this is quite another thing. and they had not known each other a week. when you and mama went out of the room. I shall keep it only till you can claim it." Elinor thought it wisest to touch that point no more. I am sure they will be married very so on." replied Elinor. which. she instantly saw an intimacy so decided. Queen Mab shall receive you." "You have said so. It may be only the hair of some great uncle of HIS. or any of their friends. for I saw him c ut it off.--"But. Willoughby very soon. if (as would pr obably be the case) she consented to this increase of establishment. Margaret. But by an appeal to her affection for her mother. His concern however was very apparent. when they were next by themselves. by representing the inconveniences which that indulgent mother must draw on herself. "almost every day since they first met on H igh-church Down. on be ing obliged to forego the acceptance of his present. and Ma rgaret." "Take care. I am almost sure it is.but of Willoughby my judgment has long been formed. and presently he took up her scissors and cut off a long l ock of her hair. a meaning so direct. "Oh. nor was she disposed to it. Elinor!" she cried.

a sail on which was to a form a great part of the morning's amuse ment. was immediately pursued by Colonel Brandon. without whose interest it could not be seen. "Remember that whatever your conjectures may be. for I am sure there was such a man on ce. and every thing conducted in the usual style of a complete party of pleasure. might be allowed to be a tolerable judge. and Margaret was eagerly pressed to sa y something more." This increased the mirth of the company. which had been long a ma tter of great curiosity to her. "that it rained very hard. as the proprietor. But I know very well what it is. Marianne felt for her most sincerely. Jennings. He is the curate of the parish I dare say. .ster. let us know all about it. and saying. Marianne. it fell to the ground. "it was you who told me of it yourself. and thus amidst the various endeavours of different people to qu it the topic. to give the name of the young man who was Elinor's particular favourite. then. and Sir John. A party was formed this evening for going on the following day to see a very fi ne place about twelve miles from Barton." said Marianne with great warmth. Miss Margaret. belonging to a brother-in-law of Colone l Brandon. "you know that all this is an inve ntion of your own. cold provisions were to be taken. had left strict orders on that head. She was convinced that Margaret had fixed on a person whose na me she could not bear with composure to become a standing joke with Mrs. Margaret answered by looking at her sister." "No. open carriages only to be employed. and much was said on the subject of rain by both of them. Willoughby opened the piano-forte. Elinor?" This of course made every body laugh. by turning very red and saying in an angry manner to Margaret. and his name begins with an F." said Mrs. He is of no profession at all. "What is the gentleman's name?" "I must not tell. at his own house at Norland to be sure. They contained a noble p iece of water." "Yes." replied Margaret. yes. THAT he is not. But the ef fort was painful. you have no right to repeat th em." "Margaret. Jenning s. and that there is no such person in existence. but she did more harm than good to the ca use. The idea howe ver started by her. may I. "I must not tell. who was particularly warm in their praise. who was on every occasion mindful of the feelings of others. we can guess where he is. who w as then abroad." Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady Middleton for observing. he is lately dead. ma'am. twice every summer for the last ten years. and I know where he i s too. and Elinor tried to laugh too. "Oh! pray. Jennings attacked her one evening at the park. When Mrs. at least. The grounds were declared t o be highly beautiful. and asked Marianne to sit down to it." "Well." "I never had any conjectures about it. than from her ladyship's great dislike of all such i nelegant subjects of raillery as delighted her husband and mother." though she believed the interruption to proceed less from any attention to her. at this moment. But not so easily did Elinor recover from t he alarm into which it had thrown her. for he had formed parties to visit the m.

and immediately left the room. The morning was rather favourable. Dashwood. fatigued. where they were to br eakfast. Colonel. without attending to her daughter's reproof. for it is on business which requires my immedia te attendance in town. and frightened." "Well. And I hope she is well. "No bad news." said Mrs. come. "What is the matter with Brandon?" said Sir John. but the event was still more unfortunate. and determined to submit to the greatest inconveniences and hardships rather than be otherwise .--he took it. colouring a little. It came from town." "But how came the hand to discompose you so much." said Lady Middleton. She was prepared to be wet through." "My dear madam. Among the rest there was one for Colonel Brandon. ma'am?" said he. Nobody could tell. looked at the direction. for they did not go at all. eager to be happy. indeed. if it was only a letter of bu siness? Come." "Perhaps it is to tell you that your cousin Fanny is married?" said Mrs. They were all in high spirits and good humour." "Was it from Avignon? I hope it is not to say that your sister is worse. though it had rained all night. Jennin gs. ma'am. "that I s hould receive this letter today. was persuaded by Elinor to stay at home. "It must be something ext raordinary that could make Colonel Brandon leave my breakfast table so suddenly. and is merely a letter of business. CHAPTER 13 Their intended excursion to Whitwell turned out very different from what Elinor had expected. "I hope he has had no bad news. Colonel." . it is not. " In about five minutes he returned. "None at all. "recollect what you are saying. changed colou r. Jennings." said Lady Middleton. While they were at breakfast the letters were brought in.To some few of the company it appeared rather a bold undertaking." said he. ma'am. and the sun frequently appeared. and that it had rained every day for the last fortnight. as soon as he entered the r oom. "No." "Whom do you mean. By ten o'clock the whole party was assembled at the park. Colonel. "Oh! you know who I mean. ma'am. who had already a cold. considering t he time of year. then. I know who it is from. as t he clouds were then dispersing across the sky.--and M rs. addressing Lady Middleton. I hope. this won't do." "No. I thank you. so let us hear the truth of it." "I am particularly sorry.

" said Sir John. "and then perhaps you may find out what his business is. "as soon as you can co nveniently leave town. when I may have it in my power to return." Colonel Brandon again repeated his sorrow at being the cause of disappointing t he party. "will it not be sufficient?" He shook his head." replied Marianne." said Marianne. "There is no persuading you to change your mind." "Ay. when will you come back again?" "I hope we shall see you at Barton." "I cannot afford to lose ONE hour. "There are some p eople who cannot bear a party of pleasure. I w ould lay fifty guineas the letter was of his own writing. Sir John. Brandon. Willoughby got up two hours before his usual time. He was afraid of catching cold I dare say." What a blow upon them all was this! "But if you write a note to the housekeeper. "Well."In town!" cried Mrs. then." "You would not be six hours later." said Mrs. and Mr. here are the two Miss Careys come over from New ton." cried Sir John. Jennings." added her ladyship. Brandon is one of them. so do." "You are very obliging. as I fear my presence is necessary to gain your admittance at Whitwell. the three Miss Dashwoods walked up from the cottage. "If he is not here by the en d of the week. I shall go after him. Jennings." "Oh! he must and shall come back. but at the same time declared it to be unavoidable." "I wish it could be so easily settled. I know of old. "we m ight see whether it could be put off or not. But it is not in my power to delay my jo urney for one day!" "If you would but let us know what your business is." said Sir John. Consider. on purpose to go to Whitwell. "if you were to defer your journey till our return. and we must put off the party to Whitwell till you return . Brandon. in a low voice to Marianne. that is all. Mr. "in being obliged to leave so agreeable a party. however." "I have no doubt of it."-Elinor then heard Willoughby say." he continued." cried Mrs." said Willoughby. But it is so uncertain. "What can you have to do in town at this time o f year?" "My own loss is great. and invented this trick for getting out of it. Jennings. Brandon." . that I dare not engage for it at all. but I am the more concerned. "We must go. You cannot go to town till tomorrow. "when once you are determined on anything. eager ly.--"It shall not be put off when we are so near it. I hope you wi ll think better of it. But.

" Then." "Then I must bid you farewell for a longer time than I should wish to do. for fear of shocking the young ladies." "Well. "No. I dare say the Colonel will leave h er all his fortune. "I can guess what his business is. they must do something by way of being happy. Jennings exultingly. none at all. "Come Colonel. as you are resolved to go." said Mrs. and after some consultatio n it was agreed. attended by Sir John. and they all agreed again and again how provoking it was to be so disappointed. whic . I wish you a good journey."I do not want to pry into other men's concerns. and. they might procure a tolerable composure of mind by driving about the country. Miss Dashwood?" "I am afraid." "Indeed!" "Oh. "You do not go to town on horseback. that as they were all got to gether. He drove through the park very fast. "Is there no chance of my seeing you and your sisters in town this winter. Only to Honiton." said Mrs." Colonel Brandon's horses were announced. "Can you. do you?" added Sir John. I suppose it is something he i s ashamed of. concluding however by observing. however. and as like him as she can stare. it is about Miss Williams. lowering h er voice a little. Jennings." To Marianne. Willoughby's was first. left the room. he merely bowed and said nothing. But you had better change your mind." "And who is Miss Williams?" asked Marianne. She is a relation of the Colonel's. and they w ere soon out of sight. ma'am?" said almost every body." "I assure you it is not in my power. I shall then go post. yes. my dear. she said to Elinor. a very near relation. he joined most heartily in the general regret on so unf ortunate an event. "She is his natural daughter. that although happiness could only be enjoyed at Whitwell. and nothing more of them was seen till their return. do let us know what you are going about. We will not say how near. and Marianne never looked ha ppier than when she got into it." He wished her a good morning. "What! do not you know who Miss Williams is? I am sure you must have heard of h er before." He then took leave of the whole party. The complaints and lamentations which politeness had hitherto restrained. "before you go. The c arriages were then ordered. now b urst forth universally. I am sure." When Sir John returned. "Yes.

it was impossible to have any other com panion. for it wanted it very much when I was there six years ago. Marianne. and that every body should be extremely merry all day long. I am not sensible of having don . Willoughby. but I would not go while Mrs. and they had not been long seated. "I have found you out in spite of all your tricks." "But. Willoughby's groom. and they had the pleasure of sitting down nearly twenty to table. I know where you spent the morning. "that the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety. or Marianne consent. pray?"-"Did not you know." Marianne turned away in great confusion. I know that very well. and that she had by that m ethod been informed that they had gone to Allenham. and grea t was her surprise when she found that every circumstance related by Mrs." "Mr. she had actually made her own woman enquire of Mr. "Where. Elinor. It is a v ery large one. and spent a considerable tim e there in walking about the garden and going all over the house. Jennings laughed heartily. I know. yes. do you not now begin to doubt the discretion of your own conduct?" "If the impertinent remarks of Mrs. but said only in general terms that they had kept in the la nes. Jennings are to be the proof of impropriety in conduct." said Willoughby. that we did not go there. and I was determined to find o ut WHERE you had been to. for if there h ad been any real impropriety in what I did. as it seemed very unlikely that Wi lloughby should propose. I hope you will have new-furn ished it. Mr.h did not happen till after the return of all the rest. and replied very hastily. Willoughby took his usual place between the t wo elder Miss Dashwoods. and said to Ma rianne. nothing can be a stronger proof of it. and when I come to see you. I should have been sensible of it at the time. Jennings sat on Elinor's right hand. for we always know when we are acting wrong. Some more of the Careys came to dinner. to enter the house while Mrs." Marianne coloured. "Why should you imagine. Smit h was in it. loud enough for them both to hear. we are all offending every moment of our lives. my dear Marianne. Jennin gs was perfectly true. As soon as they left the dining-room. and El inor found that in her resolution to know where they had been. Mrs. Impudence.I hope you like your house. and with such a convicti on I could have had no pleasure. Marianne was quite angry with her for doubting it. "that we had been out in my curricle?" "Yes.-. as it has already exposed you to some very impertinent remarks. I never spent a pleasanter morning in my life. They both seemed delight ed with their drive. I value not her cen sure any more than I should do her commendation. Miss Marianne." "I am afraid. with whom Marianne had not the smallest acquaintance. It was settled that there should be a dance in the evening. while the others went on the downs. which Sir Joh n observed with great contentment. or that we did not s ee the house? Is not it what you have often wished to do yourself?" "Yes. before she leant behind her and Willoughby. Elinor enquired of her about it. and with no othe r companion than Mr. Elinor. Smith was there. Mrs." "On the contrary. and as he went in an open carriage." replied Elinor. Willoughby however is the only person who can have a right to shew that ho use. Elinor could hardly believe this to be true.

though she felt really interested in the welfare of Colonel Brandon." Could Elinor have listened to her without interruption from the others. Poor man! I am afraid his circumstances may be bad. and on the other you have a view of the church and village. The estat e at Delaford was never reckoned more than two thousand a year. by the bye.--but if it were newly fitted up--a couple of hundred pounds. but it was even visibly gratifying to her. b eyond them. and raised the wonder of Mrs. She wondered. and with modern furni ture it would be delightful. with his steadin ess in concealing its cause. Her opinion varying with every fresh conj ecture. which Mrs. for I have a notion she is always rather sickly. and thought over every kind of distress that c ould have befallen him. she was a great wonderer." She blushed at this hint. Elinor. with little intermission what could be the reason of it. you would not be justified in w hat you have done. what their constant behaviour to each other declared to have take . I would give anyt hing to know the truth of it. to a beautiful hanging wood. and his brother left everything sadly involved. It is a corner room. and has windows on two sides. Willoughby's. so talked Mrs. I would lay any wager it is about Miss Williams." So wondered. I am sure. with a fixed determination that he should not escape the m all. His setting off in such a hurry seems very like it. nothing in the world more likely. because he looked so conscious when I mentioned her. May be s he is ill in town. CHAPTER 14 The sudden termination of Colonel Brandon's visit at the park. and a good wife into the bargain. or in seeing her house. "Perhaps. I assure you. could not bestow all the wo nder on his going so suddenly away. but Mr. she wou ld have described every room in the house with equal delight. filled the mind. would mak e it one of the pleasantest summer-rooms in England. and--" "If they were one day to be your own. and after a ten minutes' interval of earnest thought. and sa id with great good humour. Willoughby wanted particularly to shew me the place. I did not se e it to advantage. I wond er what it can be! May be his sister is worse at Avignon. T hey will one day be Mr. for he is a ve ry prudent man. for besides that the circumstance did not in her opinion justify such lasti ng amazement or variety of speculation. Jenn ings for two or three days. of those fine bold hills that we have so often admired. It was engrossed by the extraordinary silence of her sister and Willoughby on the subject. as every one must be who t akes a very lively interest in all the comings and goings of all their acquainta nce. Jennings was desirous of her feel ing. her wonder was otherwise disposed of. it WAS rather ill-judged in me to g o to Allenham. I dare say it is. every day made it appear more strange and more incompatible w ith the disposition of both. and all seeming equally probable as they arose. and to be sure must have cleared the estate by this time. It is not so very likely he should be distressed in his circumstances NOW. and it is a charming house. behind the house. Marianne. was sure there must be some bad news. Perhaps it is about Miss Williams and. I wish him out of all his trouble with all my heart. which they must know to be peculiarly interesting to them all. As this silence continued. for what else can it be? I wonder whether it is so. "Something very melancholy must be the matter. Willoughby says." said she. Well. of a nice comfortable size for constant use. "I could s ee it in his face.--There is one remarkably pretty sitting ro om up stairs. and has sent for him o ver. On one side you look across the bowling-green. Elinor. for nothing could be more forlorn than the furniture. Why they should not openly acknowledge to her mothe r and herself. she came to her sister again. Jennings. Smith's grounds. I do think he must have been sent for about mone y matters.e anything wrong in walking over Mrs. and.

for though Willoughby was independent. which in fact concealed nothing a t all. Willoughby. not an inch to its size." said Miss Dashwood. if she can emplo y her riches no better. One evening in particular. THAT I will never consent to. Not a stone must be added to its walls. many more of his hours were spent there than at Allenham." "With dark narrow stairs and a kitchen that smokes. about a week after Colonel Brandon left the country. I would even rather lay it uselessly by than dispose of it in a manner so painful to you. But for this strange kind of secrecy ma intained by them relative to their engagement." said Elinor." "I am heartily glad of it." "Thank you. "nothing of the kind will be done. that a doubt sometimes entered her mind of their being really engaged. she could not account." said he. Nay. I suppose. he warmly opposed every alteration of a place which affection had established as perfect with him. should the least variation be perceptible. "May she always be poor. She could easily conceive that marriage might not be immediately in their power . and then only. when I make up my accounts in the spring. you will hereafter find your own house as faultl . bu t he lived at an expense to which that income could hardly be equal. than Willoughby's b ehaviour. "with all and every thing belonging to it.n place. and he had himself often complained of his poverty. for all the i mprovements in the world. there was no reason to believe him rich . and were I rich enough I would instantly pull Combe down.--in no one convenience or INconvenience about it. But you may be assured that I would not sacrifice one s entiment of local attachment of yours. or of any one whom I loved. Then. and to the rest of the family it was the affectionate attention of a son and a brother. I might perhaps be as h appy at Combe as I have been at Barton." "I flatter myself. Elinor could not imagine. Nothing could be more expressive of attachment to them all. I consider it as the only f orm of building in which happiness is attainable. more. under such a roof. his heart seemed more than usually open to every feeling of attachment to the o bjects around him. and it was so wholly contradictory to their genera l opinions and practice. To Marianne it had all the distinguishing tenderness which a lover's h eart could give. Depend upon it that whatever unemployed sum may remain . where the rest of the day was spent by himself at the side of Marianne. The cottage seemed to be considered and loved by him as his home. and this doubt was enough to prevent her making any inquiry of M arianne. for my mother will never have money enough to attempt it. the exercise which called him out in the morning was almost certain of ending there. His estate had been rated by Sir John at about six or seven hundred a year." replied Elinor. "Yes. and if no g eneral engagement collected them at the park. and build it up again in the exact plan of this cott age." he cried. Dashwood's happening to mention her design of imp roving the cottage in the spring. and by his favourite pointer at her f eet. "To me it is faultless." "Do not be alarmed. But are you really so atta ched to this place as to see no defect in it?" "I am. and on Mrs." cried he in the same eager tone. if my feel ings are regarded. "What!" he exclaimed--"Improve this dear cottage! No. "that even under the disadvantage of better rooms and a broader staircase.

and without noticing them ran up stairs. Tell me that not only your house will remain the same. Smith. and in which so many happy hours have been since spent by us together. and it will make me happy. CHAPTER 15 Mrs. "Shall we see you tomorrow to dinner?" said Mrs. under some trifling pretext of employment. that Barton cottage were inhabited! I never passed within view of it without a dmiring its situation. "Your promise makes me easy. but Marianne excused herself from being of the party.ess as you now do this. They were no sooner in the pas sage than Marianne came hastily out of the parlour apparently in violent afflict ion. and his countenanc . was perfectly satisfied with her remaining at home. Marianne?" speaking to her in a lowered voice. How little di d I then think that the very first news I should hear from Mrs. where they found only Willoughby. who concluded that a promise had been made by Willoughby the night before of calling on her while the y were absent." "There certainly are circumstances. Extend it a little farther." added he. whose fine eyes were fixed so e xpressively on Willoughby. Surprised and alarmed they proceeded directly into the room she had just quitte d. and grieving that no one should live in it. with her handkerchief at her eyes. Dashwood? You would rob it of its simplicity by imaginary improvement! and this dear parlo ur in which our acquaintance first began." The promise was readily given. "when I was at Allenham this time twelvemonth . Must it not have been so. but this place will always have one claim of my affection. "And yet this house you would spoil." he warmly replied. but that I shall ever find you and yours as unchanged as your dwelling. would be that Barton cottage was taken: and I felt an immediate satisfaction and interest in the event. which no other can possibly share. when I ne xt came into the country. and every body would be eager to pass through the room which has hithe rto contained within itself more real accommodation and comfort than any other a partment of the handsomest dimensions in the world could possibly afford. Dashwood. to call on Lady Middleton." Mrs. Dashwood again assured him that no alteration of the kind should be attemp ted. "How often did I wish. for we must walk to the park." said Willoughby. and two of her daughters went with her. Then continuin g his former tone. which nothing but a kind of pr escience of what happiness I should experience from it. and Mrs." He engaged to be with them by four o'clock." Mrs. but on entering the house she b eheld what no foresight had taught her to expect. can account for. Dashwood was convinced that her conjecture had b een just. and Willoughby's behaviour during the whole of t he evening declared at once his affection and happiness. he said. and her mother. who was leaning against the mantel-piece wi th his back towards them. and that you will always consider me with the kindness which has made everything belonging to you so dear to me. On their return from the park they found Willoughby's curricle and servant in w aiting at the cottage. So far it was all as she had foreseen. He turned round on their coming in. "You are a good woman. as plainly denoted how well she understood him. Mrs. Dashwood's visit to Lady Middleton took place the next day. "which might greatly ende ar it to me. Dashwood looked with pleasure at Marianne. you would degrade to the condition of a common entrance. when he was leaving them. "I do not ask you to come in the morning.

"I have only to add. Smith are never repeated within t he twelvemonth. by sending me on business to London. Elinor's uneasiness was at least equal to her mother's. "are of such a nat ure--that--I dare not flatter myself"-He stopt. Smith." He coloured as he replied. Smith must be obliged. my dear Willoughby. I will not torment myself any longer by remaining amo ng friends whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy. and on this head I sh all be no more disposed to question your judgment than to doubt your inclination . Mrs. trying to look cheerful. Mrs. Smith has this morni ng exercised the privilege of riches upon a poor dependent cousin." He then hastily took leave of them all and left the room." "This is very unfortunate. "Is anything the matter with her?" cried Mrs. Mrs. but I have no idea of returning into Devonshire immediately.--and her business wi ll not detain you from us long I hope. She thought of what had . Dashwood was too much astonished to speak. Dashwood felt too much for speech." "To London!--and are you going this morning?" "Almost this moment. But Mrs. "It is I who may rather expect to be ill--for I am now suffering un der a very heavy disappointment!" "Disappointment?" "Yes. for I will not press you to return here immediately. can you wait for an i nvitation here?" His colour increased. for I am unable to keep my engagement with you. "Y ou are too good. Mrs. "It is folly to linger in this manner." replied Willoughby. Smith your only friend? Is Allenham the only house in the neighbou rhood to which you will be welcome? For shame. "You are very kind. because you on ly can judge how far THAT might be pleasing to Mrs. This was broken by Willoughby. Dashwood first spoke. They saw him step int o his carriage. For a few moments every one was silent. I have just received my dispatches. Elinor felt equal amazement. Willoughby. confusedly.e shewed that he strongly partook of the emotion which over-powered Marianne. My visits to Mrs." "My engagements at present. that at Barton cottage you will always be welcome. and with his eyes fixed on the ground he only replied." he replied." Mrs. Dashwood looked at Elinor with surprise. and instantly quitted the parlour to gi ve way in solitude to the concern and alarm which this sudden departure occasion ed. and another pause suc ceeded. and taken my farewel l of Allenham. and by way of exhilaration I am now come to take my farewell of y ou." "And is Mrs. Dashwood as she entered--"is she ill?" "I hope not. and with a forced smile pres ently added. and in a minute it was out of sight. who said with a faint smile.

I know. "and with how heavy a heart does he travel?" "It is all very strange. He is. and the next that some unfortunate q uarrel had taken place between him and her sister. disapproves of it. He did not speak. how incomprehensible are your feelings! You had rather take evil upon credi t than good. In about half an hour her mother returned. above all. What can it be? Can they have quarrelled? Why else should he have shewn such unwillingne ss to accept your invitation here?"-"It was not inclination that he wanted. Elinor." said she. than an apology for the latter. so cheerful. and guilt for poor Willoughby. You w ill tell me. You had rather look out for misery for Marianne. but feeding and encouraging as a duty. and though her eyes were red.--but you. and affectation of cheerfulness. indeed!" "Yes. Eli nor. One moment she feared that no serio us design had ever been formed on his side. he dares not therefore at present confess to her his engag ement with Marianne. (perhaps because she has other views for him. from his dependent situation. So suddenly to be gone! It seems but the work of a mom ent. her co untenance was not uncheerful. so unlike himself.--and that the business which she sends him off to transact is invented as an excuse to dismiss him. and. and absent himself from Devonshire for a while. and I can perfectly account for every thing that at first seemed strange to me as well as to you. a backwardness so unlike a love r. and he feels himself obliged. aware that she DOES disap prove the connection. her sister's afflict ion was indubitable. Eli nor. merely becaus e they are not certainties? Is nothing due to the man whom we have all such reas . I have explained it to myself in the most satisfactory way. that it might or might not have happened. what have you to say?" "Nothing. greatly disturbed her. a quarrel seemed almost impossible. And is no allowance to be made for inadvertence. moreover. And last night he was with us so happy. I am persuaded that Mrs. "Our dear Willoughby is now some miles from Barton. But whatever might be the particulars of their separation. after only ten minutes notice--Gone too without intending to return!--Someth ing more than what he owned to us must have happened. I could plainly see THAT. his unwillingness to accept her mother's invitation. Oh.just passed with anxiety and distrust. Smith suspects his regard for Marianne. And now. Thi s is what I believe to have happened." "Then you would have told me. Elinor. that this may or may NOT have happened." "Can you. YOU must have seen the difference as well as I. I know. to give into her schemes. his embarrassment.) and on that account is eager to get him away. but you s hall not talk ME out of my trust in it. He ha d not the power of accepting it. I have thought it all over I assure you. though when she considered what Marianne's love for him was. Willoughby's behaviour in taking leave o f them. so affectionate? And n ow. he did n ot behave like himself.--the distress in which Marian ne had quitted the room was such as a serious quarrel could most reasonably acco unt for. because he took leave of us with less affection than his usual behaviour h as shewn. as she s at down to work. You are resolved to think him blame able. who love to doubt where you can--it will not satisfy YOU. unless you can point out any other method of understanding the affai r as satisfactory at this. Elinor. but I will listen t o no cavil. and she thought with the tenderest compassion of that viole nt sorrow which Marianne was in all probability not merely giving way to as a re lief. for you have anticipated my answer. or for spirits depres sed by recent disappointment? Are no probabilities to be accepted.

Will oughby may undoubtedly have very sufficient reasons for his conduct. But this is no excuse for the ir concealing it from us. I confess. declare d that he loved and considered her as his future wife. what is it you suspect him of?" "I can hardly tell myself. But you really do admit the justice of what I have said in his defence?--I am happy--and he is acquitted. but still I cannot help wondering at its be ing practiced by him." "Do not blame him. . by either of them. his attentive and affectionate respect? My Elinor. but they are fainter than they were. is it possible to doubt their engagement? H ow could such a thought occur to you? How is it to be supposed that Willoughby. should leave her. There is grea t truth. and that he felt for us t he attachment of the nearest relation? Have we not perfectly understood each oth er? Has not my consent been daily asked by his looks. and it is my wish to be candid in my judgment of every body. an d with me it almost outweighs every other." "How strange this is! You must think wretchedly indeed of Willoughby. if he can leave her with such indiffere nce. and leave her p erhaps for months. But it would have been more like Willoughby to acknowledge the m at once. af ter all. for departing from his character. when your eyes have been reproaching them every day for incautiousness. after all that has openly passed between them. I have had my doubts." "You must remember. my dear mother.--that they should part without a mutual exchange of confidence?" "I confess." replied Elinor." said Elinor." "Concealing it from us! my dear child. and I will hope that he has. you can doubt the nature of the terms on which they are together. He must and does love her I am sure. such carelessness of the future." "I am perfectly satisfied of both. "but of their engagement I d o." "Yet not a syllable has been said to you on the subject. where the deviati on is necessary. however.on to love. Smith--and if that is the case. but that ONE is the total silence of both on the subject. it must be highly expedient for Wil loughby to be but little in Devonshire at present. Has he been acting a part in his behaviour to your s ister all this time? Do you suppose him really indifferent to her?" "No." "I have not wanted syllables where actions have spoken so plainly. without telling her of his affection. Secrecy may be advisable. It may be proper to conceal their engagement (if they ARE engage d) from Mrs." "Not entirely. as you attribute to him. in what you have now urged of the allowances which ought to be made for him. persuaded as he must be of your sister's love. however. though unavoidably secret for a while? And. do you accuse Willoughby and Marianne of concealment? This is strange indeed. I cannot think that. But suspicion of something unpleasant is the inevita ble consequence of such an alteration as we just witnessed in him. that I have never considered this matter as certain. "that every circumstance except ONE is in favour o f their engagement. if." "I want no proof of their affection." "But with a strange kind of tenderness. for at least the last fortnight. Has not his behaviour to Marianne and to all of us. and no reason in the world to think ill of? To the possibility of mo tives unanswerable in themselves. his manner.

" "A mighty concession indeed! If you were to see them at the altar. and after some time. Though WE have not known him long. as well as more consistent with his general character. You cannot doubt your sist er's wishes.and they may soon be entirely done away. Willoughby certainly does not deserve to be suspected . or a deviation from what I may think righ t and consistent. by the alteration in his manners this morning. and suspicion of his integrity cannot be more painful to yourself than to me . if they spoke at all. I confes s. and did not return your kindness with any cordiality. by saying th at he was going away for some time. Smith. Nothing in my opinion has ever passed to justify doubt. for their marriage m ust be at a very uncertain distance. he might well be embarrassed and disturbed. and if he f elt obliged. I was startled. because she was without any desire of command over herself. her small degre e of fortitude was quite overcome. Ungracious girl! But I require no such proo f.--he did not speak like himself . The slig htest mention of anything relative to Willoughby overpowered her in an instant. had seen her leave him in the greatest affliction. could neither eat nor speak. and I will not encourage it. He had just parte d from my sister. Her eyes were red and swollen. she burst into tears and left the room. he should seem to act an ungenerous. and who has ever spoken to his disadvantage? Had he been in a situation to act independently and marry immediately. as far as it can be obser ved. This violent oppression of spirits continued the whole evening." They were interrupted by the entrance of Margaret. She avo ided the looks of them all. She would have been asham ed to look her family in the face the next morning. It has been involuntary. In such a case. it was impos sible for them. sincerely love h im. as a difference in judgment from myself. no secrecy has been a ttempted. a suspi cious part by our family. and though her family were most anxiously attentive to her comfort. CHAPTER 16 Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able to sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby. had she not risen from her b . may now be very advisable. "I love Willoughby. it might have been odd that he should leav e us without acknowledging everything to me at once: but this is not the case. They saw nothing of Marianne till dinner time." "You speak very properly. when she entered the room and to ok her place at the table without saying a word. a plain and open avowal of his difficulties would have been more to his ho nour I think. to acknowledge the probabili ty of many. I t is an engagement in some respects not prosperously begun. But why? Is he no t a man of honour and feeling? Has there been any inconsistency on his side to c reate alarm? can he be deceitful?" "I hope not. you would su ppose they were going to be married. every fear of mine will be removed. She was without any power. on her mother's silently pressing her hand with tender compassion. It must be Willoughby therefore whom you suspect. to keep clear of every subject which her f eelings connected with him. I believe not. and hope for the justice of all." cried Elinor. and even secrecy. and yet aware that by declining your invitation. to resist the temptation of re turning here soon. If we find they correspond. from a fear of offending Mrs. he is no stranger in this part of the world .--but I will not raise objections against any one's conduct on so illiberal a foundation. all has been uniformly open and unreserved. and it seemed as if her tears were even then restrained with difficulty. But all this may be expl ained by such a situation of his affairs as you have supposed. and Elinor was then at liber ty to think over the representations of her mother.

But Mrs. She read nothing but what they had been used to read together . her voice often totally suspended by her tears. But there was one method so direct. considering her sister's youth. still produced occasiona l effusions of sorrow as lively as ever. I would not attempt to force the confidence of any one. I should never deserve her confidence again. to which she dai ly recurred. It would be the natural result of your aff ection for her. and that I s hall not be the last to whom the affair is made known. She spent whole hours at the pianoforte alternately singing and cryi ng. common prude nce. I know Marianne's heart: I know that she dearly loves me. was unable to talk. "Remember. "Why do you not ask Marianne at once." said she. and none seemed expected by Marianne. Such violence of affliction indeed could not be supported for ever. Elinor. indulging the recollection of past enjoyment and crying over the present reverse for the chief of the morning. and she wept the greatest part of it. . after f orcing from her a confession of what is meant at present to be unacknowledged to any one. what distress would not such an enquiry inflict! At any rate i t would be most ungenerous. "whether she is or she is not engaged to Willoughby? From you. that she could not help suggesting it to her mother. when circumstances make t he revealment of it eligible. She got up with a hea dache. the question could not give offence.ed in more need of repose than when she lay down in it." said she. and unwilling to take any nourishment. and we must acknowledge that it could not be maintained if thei r correspondence were to pass through Sir John's hands. common care. as well as in music. We have already agreed that secrecy m ay be necessary. an d urged the matter farther. so simple. till her heart was so heavy th at no farther sadness could be gained. and so kind. Supposing it possible that they are not engaged. every air in whic h their voices had been oftenest joined. and wandered about the villa ge of Allenham. In books too. Her mothe r was surprised. because a sense of duty would prevent the denial whi ch her wishes might direct." Elinor could not deny the truth of this. The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of feeling. and forbidding all attempt at consolation from either. "how very often Sir John fetches our letters hims elf from the post. left her in no danger of incurring it. so indulgent a mother. But the feelings which m ade such composure a disgrace. of a child much less. her solitary walks and silent meditations. Her sensibility was potent enough! When breakfast was over she walked out by herself. which at least satisfied herself. Dashwood's romantic delicacy. Dashwood could find ex planations whenever she wanted them." "I would not ask such a question for the world. it sunk wit hin a few days into a calmer melancholy. and she tried to find in it a motive s ufficient for their silence." Elinor thought this generosity overstrained. and of insta ntly removing all mystery. and Elinor again became uneasy. She used to be all unreserve. common sense. giving pain ev ery moment to her mother and sisters. No letter from Willoughby came. She was aw ake the whole night. and to you more especially. were all sunk in Mrs. but these employments. and carries them to it. She played over ever y favourite song that she had been used to play to Willoughby. but in vain. and this nourishment of grief was every d ay applied. and in her opinion so eligible of knowing the real state of the affair. her mother. and sat at the instrument gazing on eve ry line of music that he had written out for her. she courted the misery which a contrast between the past and present was certain of giving.

his hor se. and giving his horse to his servant.. lay before them. where the country. our dear Willoughby went away before we could get through it. Sir John and Mrs. almost as well known as Willoughby's. but she dispersed her tears to smile on HIM. and on reaching that po int. it was a man on horseback riding towards them. with strong surprise. she directly stole away towards the lanes. satisfied with gaining one point." "Months!" cried Marianne. and has not his air. "Indeed. If her sis ters intended to walk on the downs. quickened her pa ce and kept up with her. her heart sunk within her. who greatly disapproved such continual seclusion. perhaps." Mrs. that when he comes again. about a week after his leaving the country. "It is he." She walked eagerly on as she spoke. His air. Hitherto she had carefully avoided every companion in her rambles. she was hurrying back. a long stretch of the road which they h ad travelled on first coming to Barton." cried Marianne. and she turned round with surprise to see and welcome Edward Ferrars. They walked along the road through the valley. "I am sure he has. they soon discovered an animated one. "No--nor many weeks. for Marianne's MIND c ould not be controlled. One morning. Amongst the objects in the scene. to screen Marianne from particu larity." "He has. before THAT happens. joined them in begging her to s top. Mrs. and in her sister's happiness forgot for a time her own disappointment. whither he was purposely coming to visit them. The person i s not tall enough for him. when the voices of both her sisters were raised to detain her . walked back with them to Ba rton. Marianne.--I know it is!"--and was hastening to meet him. He dismounted. was less wild and more open.It was several days before Willoughby's name was mentioned before Marianne by a ny of her family. and in a moment afterwards Marianne rapturously exclaimed . I knew how soon he would come. We will put it by. Jennings.--but one evening. they stopped to look around them. their wi tticisms added pain to many a painful hour. acc identally taking up a volume of Shakespeare. would not then attempt more. he has. as it produced a reply from Marianne so expressive of confidence in Willoughby and knowledge of his intentions. when E linor cried out. were not so nice. as she felt almost certain of its not being Willoughby. "We have never finished Hamlet. a third. Beyond the entrance of the valley. i f they talked of the valley. They were soon within thirty yards of the gentleman. Marianne was prevailed on to join her sisters in their usual walk.. the only one who could have gained a smile from her. I think you are mistaken. In a few minutes they could distinguish him to be a gentleman. But at length she was secured by the exe rtions of Elinor. It is not Willoughby. and Elinor.But it ma y be months. but it gave Elinor pleasure. and examine a prospect which formed the d istance of their view from the cottage. instead of wandering away by hersel f. from a spot which they had never happene d to reach in any of their walks before. Ma rianne looked again. it is indeed. Dashwood. exclaimed. though still rich. his coat. she was as speedy in climbing the hills. . and abruptly turning round. and chiefly in silence. and could never be found when the others set off. Dashwood was sorry for what she had said. Marianne. indeed. and Elinor. He was the only person in the world who could at that moment be forgiven for no t being Willoughby.

dear Norland look?" cried Marianne." "It is a beautiful country. Marianne saw and listened with increasing surprise. "but these bottoms must be dirty in wi nter. the season." he replied. And there. "I was at Norland about a month ago." replied he. to see them driven in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they. he had been in De vonshire a fortnight." said Elinor. But SOMETIMES they are. not often understood. dear Norland." said she. amongst thos e woods and plantations. The woods and walks thickly covered with dead leaves. "with what transporting sensation have I formerly seen th em fall! How have I delighted." "How can you think of dirt. surprised at his being so long in the same county with Elinor without seeing her before. who showed more warmth of regard in her reception of him than even Elinor hersel f." said Elinor. and driven as much as possible from the sight. and be tranquil if you can. and disting uished Elinor by no mark of affection. On Edward's side. No. swept ha stily off. and it ended. "who has your passion for dead leaves." cried Marianne." "And how does dear. smiling. by carrying back her thoughts to Willoughby. but especially by Marianne. I see a very dirty lane. the meeting between Edward and her sister was but a cont inuation of that unaccountable coldness which she had often observed at Norland in their mutual behaviour." "Oh." "It is not every one. as every feeling must end with her. After a short silence which succeeded the first surprise and enquiries of meeti ng. that he had been staying with some fri ends near Plymouth. Edward. beneath th at farthest hill. with such objects before you?" "Because. "A fortnight!" she repeated. looked neither raptu rous nor gay. He looked rather distressed as he added. They are seen only as a nuisance. is our cottage."--As she said this. she sunk into a reverie for a few moments. my feelings are not often shared. the air altogether inspired ! Now there is no one to regard them. To Marianne. which rises with such grandeur. She began almost to feel a dislike of Edward. "Have you an agreeable neighbourhood here? Are the Middletons pleasant people?" . Look at thos e hills! Did you ever see their equals? To the left is Barton park. "Dear. He was con fused. Look up to it. indeed. more particularly. whose ma nners formed a contrast sufficiently striking to those of his brother elect. You may see the end of the house. "among the rest of the objects before me." "How strange!" said Marianne to herself as she walked on. Marianne asked Edward if he came directly from London. "here is Barton valley.He was welcomed by them all with great cordiality." "No. "probably looks much as it always does at th is time of the year. seemed scarcely sensible of pleasure in seeing them. there was a defi ciency of all that a lover ought to look and say on such an occasion. as I walked. said little but what was forced from him by questions.--but rousin g herself again. calling his attention to the prospect. "Have you been lately in Sussex?" said Elinor. "Now.

of all things the most natural. and towards us have behaved in th e friendliest manner. &c. but still he was not in spirits . and have every rea son to hope I never shall. and they were quite overcome b y the captivating manners of Mrs. and shyness. Dashwood was surprised only for a moment at seeing him. Indeed a man could not very well be in love with either of her daughters. sat down to table indignant against all selfish par ents. Dashwood. he praised their house . I believe. not all. coldness. Edward?" said she. and his interest in their welfare again became perceptible. like every body else it must be in my own way. Her joy and expressi on of regard long outlived her wonder. for his coming to Barton was." Elinor took no notice of this. I well know. without extending the passion to her. His coldness and reserve mortified her severely. Your wishes are all moderate. by talking of their pres ent residence. Greatness will not make me so. extorting from him occasional questions and remarks. and with no inclination for expense. admired its prospect. "What have wealth or grandeur to do wi th happiness?" . Dashwood." "I shall not attempt it. when dinn er was over and they had drawn round the fire. was attentive. CHAPTER 17 Mrs." said Marianne. no profession. she avoided every appearance of resentment or displeasure. " "Marianne. and no assurance. They h ad begun to fail him before he entered the house. Ferrars's views for you at present. His aff ections seemed to reanimate towards them all. I wish as well as ev ery body else to be perfectly happy. but resolving to regulate her behaviour to him by the past rather than the present. I hope my mother is now convinced that I have no more talents than inclina tion for a public life!" "But how is your fame to be established? for famous you must be to satisfy all your family. The whole family perceived it. you may find it a difficult matter." cried her sister. "are you still to be a great orat or in spite of yourself?" "No. its conveniences. and kind." "Strange that it would!" cried Marianne. and trea ted him as she thought he ought to be treated from the family connection. no affection for strangers."No. in her opinion. "how can you say so? How can you be so unjust? Th ey are a very respectable family. however. and Elinor had the satisfaction of seeing him soon become more like himself. she was vexed and hal f angry. He was not in spirits. He received the kindest welcome from her. attributing it to some want of liberality in his mother. how many pleasant days we have owed to them?" "No. Marianne. "nor how many painful moments. and Mrs. reserve could not stand against such a reception. I have no wish to be distinguished. Have you forgot. "we could not be more unfortunately situated. Mr. en deavoured to support something like discourse with him. Ferrars." "As moderate as those of the rest of the world. in a low voice. Thank Heaven! I cannot be forced into genius and eloq uence. "What are Mrs." "You have no ambition. and directing her attention to their visitor." answered Marianne. but.

to hear her sister describing so accurately their future e xpenses at Combe Magna. Miss Dashwood. for shame!" said Marianne. what is your competence?" "About eighteen hundred or two thousand a year. "we may come to the same point. "how happy I should be! I wonder what I should do wi th it!" Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that point." "Perhaps. Should not you." said Elinor." Elinor laughed. Come. "But most people do. a carriage." Elinor smiled again. and she would have eve ry book that tells her how to admire an old twisted tree. perhaps two. her eyes sparkling with animation. " if my children were all to be rich without my help." "What magnificent orders would travel from this family to London. YOUR competenc e and MY wealth are very much alike. and print-s hops! You. I believe. to prevent their falling into unworthy hands. "I should be puzzled to spend so large a fortune myself. But I was willing to shew you that I had not forgot our old disputes." "And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate income. "in spite of the i nsufficiency of wealth. cannot be supported on less. and hunter s. if I am very saucy. would give a general commission for every new print of merit to be sent you--and as for Marianne. there would not be music enough in London to content her. we shall both agree that every kind of external comfort must be wantin g. and he r cheeks glowing with the delight of such imaginary happiness." "Oh dear!" cried Margaret." Marianne coloured as she replied." said Marianne. And books!--Thomson. music-sellers. I am sure I am not extravagant in my demands. "Hunters!" repeated Edward--"but why must you have hunters? Every body does not hunt. "We are all unanimous in that wish." said Edward." said Margaret." "Elinor. "and your di fficulties will soon vanish. smiling. "in such an event! What a happy day for booksellers. I suppose. I know her greatness of soul. "TWO thousand a year! ONE is my wealth! I guessed how it would end. and without them. A proper establishment of servants." said Elinor. striking out a novel thought. Beyond a competence."Grandeur has but little." observed Elinor." "I wish. as the world goes now. as far as mere self is concerned. "A fami ly cannot well be maintained on a smaller. "that somebody would giv e us all a large fortune apiece!" "Oh that they would!" cried Marianne. it can afford no real satisfact ion." "You must begin your improvements on this house. Marian ne? Forgive me." ." said Mrs. "but wealth has much to do with it. Dashwood. "money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it. Cowper. Your ideas are only more noble than mine. not more than THAT. I dare say." said Elinor. Scott--she would buy them all over and over again: she would buy up every copy.

then." said Elinor. that no one can ever be in love more than once in their life--your opinion on that point is unchanged." "I have frequently detected myself in such kind of mistakes. I am sure." said Marianne. I confess. but when have I advi sed you to adopt their sentiments or to conform to their judgment in serious mat ters?" "You have not been able to bring your sister over to your plan of general civil ity. or ingenious or stupid than they really are. I should have something else to do with it. of having often wished you t o treat our acquaintance in general with greater attention." replied Elinor. "and yet I have always set her down as a lively girl. never." "Perhaps. All I have ever attempted to influence has been the behaviour." "But I thought it was right. with a sigh. "Do you gain no ground?" "Quite the contrary." "No. You are not very gay y ourself. and very frequently by what other people say of them . At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed. Edward." "Why should you think so!" replied he."I love to be reminded of the past. and I can h ardly tell why or in what the deception originated. Edward--whether it be melancholy or gay. very eager in all she does--sometimes talk s a great deal and always with animation--but she is not often really merry." said Edward to Elinor. "you need not reproach me. "to be guided wholly by th e opinion of other people. "she is not at all al tered. You mu st not confound my meaning. I am guilty." "And the bulk of your fortune would be laid out in annuities on the authors or their heirs. you see." "I believe you are right. Elinor. ." "Nay. looking expressively at Marianne." said Marianne. I love to recall it--and you will never offend me by talking of former times." "Marianne is as steadfast as ever. I thought our judgments were given us merely to be su bservient to those of neighbours." said Elinor." said Elinor. "But gaiety never was a par t of MY character. My doctrine has never aimed at the subjection of the unde rstanding." "Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's. Edward. Sometimes one is guided by w hat they say of themselves. without giving oneself time to deliberate and judge. It is not likely that I should now see or hear any thing to change them. I presume?" "Undoubtedly. "I should hardly call he r a lively girl--she is very earnest." "She is only grown a little more grave than she was. at least--m y loose cash would certainly be employed in improving my collection of music and books. "in a total misapprehension of character in some point or other: fancying people so much more gay or grave. Marianne. You are very right in supposing how my money would be spent--some of it. you would bestow it as a reward on that person who wrote the ab lest defence of your favourite maxim. This has always been your doctrine." he replied. " "No.

sh e said to him." replied Edward." "I do not understand you. but trying to laugh off the subject. that I often seem negligent. "Shyness is only the effect of a sense of inferiority in some way or other. This was a subject which ensured Marianne's attention." said Elinor. very."My judgment. and I s ." *** Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of the surrounding country. and the reservedness of his manner towards her contradicted one moment what a more animated look had intimated the preceding one. Marianne?" "Yes. but I am afra id my practice is much more on your sister's. colouring. "You must not enq uire too far. afforded a genera l view of the whole. "Do not you know my sister well enough to understand what she mea ns? Do not you know she calls every one reserved who does not talk as fast. in a much higher situation than the cottage. "is all on your side of the question." said Marianne." he returned. in what mann er? What am I to tell you? What can you suppose?" Elinor looked surprised at his emotion." said he. which had exceedingly pleased him. I shall be back again presently. and. I never wish to offend. with great uneasiness the low spirits of her friend. when I am only kept back by my nat ural awkwardness. he had seen many parts of the valley to advantage. soon left them to themselves. His gravity and thoughtfulness returned on him in their fullest extent--and he sat for some time silent and dull. and to question him more minutely on the objects that had p articularly struck him. was astonished to see Edward himself come out." Edward started--"Reserved! Am I reserved. "She knows her own worth too well for false shame. while his own enjoyment in it appeared so imperfect. I should not be sh y. "Reserved!--how. and Marianne. "as you are not yet re ady for breakfast." replied he. in hi s walk to the village. and admire what she admires as rapturously as herself?" Edward made no answer. "I am going into the village to see my horses. and th e village itself. and she was beginning to describe her own admirat ion of these scenes. If I could pers uade myself that my manners were perfectly easy and graceful. when Edward interrupted her by saying. It was evident that he was unhappy. I have frequently thought that I must have been intended by na ture to be fond of low company. "and that is worse. His visit affo rded her but a very partial satisfaction." "But you would still be reserved. who was always eager to promote their happiness as far as she could. But before she was half way ups tairs she heard the parlour door open. CHAPTER 18 Elinor saw. Marianne--remember I have no knowledge in the picturesque. but I am s o foolishly shy. but hitherto the continuance of his preference seemed very uncertain. she wished it were equally ev ident that he still distinguished her by the same affection which once she had f elt no doubt of inspiring. turning round. I am so little at my ease among strangers of gen tility!" "Marianne has not shyness to excuse any inattention of hers. He joined her and Marianne in the breakfast-room the next morning before the ot hers were down.

which ought to be bold." "It is very true. Because he believes many people pretend to more admiration of the beauties of nature than they really feel. and sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself. I have more pleas ure in a snug farm-house than a watch-tower--and a troop of tidy. which oug ht only to be indistinct through the soft medium of a hazy atmosphere." said Marianne. I s hall call hills steep. I know nothing of the pictur esque. and looked conscious likewise. I admire them much more if they are tall." said Elinor. "Is that Fanny's hair? I remember her promising to give you some. I can easily believe it to be full of rocks and promontories. I do not like crooked. his hand passed so directly before her." "I am afraid it is but too true. blasted trees. with a plait of hair in the centre. I like a fine prospect." Marianne looked with amazement at Edward. the woods seem full of fine timber. whi ch ought to be irregular and rugged. your sister must allow me to feel no more than I profess. a nd in taking his tea from Mrs." said Edward. she instantaneously felt as well satisfied as Marianne. because it u nites beauty with utility--and I dare say it is a picturesque one too. "Yes. "but why should you boast of i t?" "I suspect. because I could find no language to describe them in but what was worn and hackneyed out o f all sense and meaning. surfaces strange and uncouth. She was sitting by Edward." "I am convinced. the only difference i . I am not fond of nettles or thistles. her own vexation at her want of thought could not be surp assed by his." she cried. and Marianne remained thoughtfully silent . "that admiration of landscape scenery is beco me a mere jargon. but these are all lost on me. Dashwood. grey moss and brush wood. But I should have thought her hair h ad been darker. "that to avoid one kind of affectation. I do not like ruined. The subject was continued no farther. as to make a ring. tattered cott ages. with compassion at her sister. because y ou admire it. happy villages please me better than the finest banditti in the world. straight. It exactly answers my idea of a fine country. I call it a very fine country--the hills are steep." said Marianne. "I never saw you wear a ring before. Elinor only laughed. till a new object suddenly engaged her attention. and giving a momentary glance at Elinor. and is disgusted with such preten sions. Edward here f alls into another. he affects greater indifference and less discrimination in viewing them h imself than he possesses. You must be satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly give. But. but not on picturesque pri nciples. He coloured very deeply. you know. Every body pretends to feel and tries to describe with the tas te and elegance of him who first defined what picturesque beauty was. very conspicuous on one of his fingers. Edward.hall offend you by my ignorance and want of taste if we come to particulars. in return. and flourishing. and the valley looks comfortable and snug--with rich meadows and several neat farm houses scat tered here and there. "that you really feel all the delight in a fine prospect which you profess to feel. and distant objects out of sight. I detest j argon of every kind." Elinor had met his eye. The setting always casts a different shad e on it. He is fastidious and will have an affectation of his o wn. That the hair was her ow n. it is my sister's hair. replied. twisted." Marianne spoke inconsiderately what she really felt--but when she saw how much she had pained Edward. or heath blossoms.

and when their visitors left them. "that Willoughby were among us again . Shal l I tell you my guess?" "What do you mean?" "Shall I tell you. they were visited by Sir John and Mrs. she only learned. in a low voice. how far their penetration. and this prepared a future mine of raillery against the devoted Elinor. Miss Marianne. having heard of the arrival of a gentleman at the cottage. by whom he was sitting. yet she could not help smiling at the quie t archness of his manner. but her own forgiveness might have been more speedy. But. " said she. Sir John never came to the Dashwoods without either inviting them to dine at th e park the next day. she internally resolved henceforward to catch every opportunity of ey eing the hair and of satisfying herself. and said. Jennings enforced the necessity. ." said he. Edwa rd saw enough to comprehend. founded on Margaret's instructions. for we shall be a large party. and Marianne's blushing." "Well then. "And who knows but you may raise a dance. he wished to engage them for both. which nothing but the newne ss of their acquaintance with Edward could have prevented from being immediately sprung. as it was. Marianne severely censured herself for what she had said. "Impossible! Who is to dance?" "Who! why yourselves. "And that will tempt YOU. that it was exactly t he shade of her own." This.--What! you thou ght nobody could dance because a certain person that shall be nameless is gone!" "I wish with all my soul. and after a moment's silence. Before the middle of the day. not only the meaning of others. "I have been guessing. to regard it as an affron t. He was particularly grave the whole morning. Willoughby hunts. On the present occa sion. in a whisper. She was not in a humour. "for we shall be quite alone--a nd tomorrow you must absolutely dine with us. She gave him a brief reply. from some very significant looks. and it ended in an absence of mind sti ll more settled. however. but such of Mariann e's expressions as had puzzled him before. Elinor was conscious must have been procured by some theft or contrivance unknown to herself. who. for the better entertainment of their visitor. he went immediately round her. "You MUST drink tea with us to night. Edward's embarrassment lasted some time. to Miss Dashwood. extended. Marianne's countenance was more communicative. gave new suspicions to Edward. "And who is Willo ughby?" said he. Jennings. by instantly talking of somet hing else. Sir John was not l ong in discovering that the name of Ferrars began with an F. and the Careys. towards whose amusement he felt himself bound to contribute." Mrs. and affecting to take no notice of what passed. beyond all doubt. or to drink tea with them that evening. and Whitakers to be sure.n their conclusions was. had she known how little offence it had given her sister." cried Sir John. With the assistance of his mother-in-law. came to take a s urvey of the guest. that what Marianne considered as a free gift from her s ister. I guess that Mr." "Certainly." Marianne was surprised and confused. said." "A dance!" cried Marianne.

But unfortunately my ow n nicety. and her s on be at liberty to be happy. rather astonished at her earnestness and warmt h. the steadiness of his purpose in leaving them. however. "that I have long thought on this point. he was earnestly pressed by Mrs. no profession to give me employment. as if he were bent only on self-mortification. were most usually attributed to his want of independence. she was very well disposed on t he whole to regard his actions with all the candid allowances and generous quali fications. he must leave them at the end of a week. have made me what I am. He had no pleasure at Norland. he detested be ing in town. His spirits. though still very unequal. Disappointed. was the cau se of all." replied he. go he must. The old we ll-established grievance of duty against will. this opposition was to yield. the same inevitable necessity of temporizing with his mother. Yet. which had been rather more painfully extorted from her. Ne ver had any week passed so quickly--he could hardly believe it to be gone. an idle. and is. he would not have ventured to mention it. as you think now. that I have had no necessary business to engage me. or afford me any thing like independence. We never could agree in our choice of a profession." he replied. which marked the turn of his feeling s and gave the lie to his actions. in spite of their wishes and his own. and his greatest happiness was in being with them." "I do not doubt it. helples s being. to the rememb rance of every mark of regard in look or word which fell from him while at Barto n. Dashwood. during the last two or three days. CHAPTER 19 Edward remained a week at the cottage. Edward. he seemed resolved to be gone when his enjoyment among his friends was at the height. He valued their kindne ss beyond any thing. But (with a smile) you would be materially benefited in one particular at least--you would know where to go when you left them. His want of spirits. He sa id so repeatedly. but. It has been."Oh. Dashwoo d to stay longer. and his better knowl edge of Mrs. Ferrars would be reformed." "I do assure you. and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so impe rfectly known to her. for Willoughb y's service. as to be the general excuse for every thing strange on the part of her son. But from such vain wishes she was forced to turn f or comfort to the renewal of her confidence in Edward's affection. and without any restraint on his time. and probably will always be a heavy misfortune t o me. "you would be a happier man if you had any profession to engage your time an d give an interest to your plans and actions. Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his mother's ac count. he must go. originated in the same fettered incli nation. founded only on a something or a nothing between Mr. were grea tly improved--he grew more and more partial to the house and environs--never spo ke of going away without a sigh--declared his time to be wholly disengaged--even doubted to what place he should go when he left them--but still. She would have been glad to know when these difficulties were to ceas e. "I think. and above all to that flattering proof of it which he constantly wore round h is finger. and the nicety of my friends. but either to Norland or London.I am sure you will l ike him.--when Mrs. and vexed as she was. for had he not imagined it to be a joke for the good of her acquaintance in g eneral. other things he said too.. might result from it--you would not be able to give them so much of yo ur time. Edward! How can you?--But the time will come I hope. Willoughby and hers elf. and sometimes dis pleased with his uncertain behaviour to herself. parent against child." said Mrs. Some inconvenience to your friends . as they were at breakfast the last morni ng. and of consistency . indeed. Ferrars's disposition and designs. by her mother. of openness. I always preferred . The shortness of his visit..

which shortly took place. this is all an effusion of immediate want of spirits. neither sought nor avoided the mention of his n ame. Know your own happiness. Your m other will secure to you. she did not lessen her own grief." "The consequence of which." "Come. in spite of this mortifying conviction. as ther e was no necessity for my having any profession at all. and it will. In feeling. and left an uncomfortable impression on Elinor's feelings especially. by still loving and respecting that siste r. busily employed herself the whole day. she did not adopt the method so judiciously employ ed by Marianne. idleness was pronounce d on the whole to be most advantageous and honourable. But remember that the pain of parting from friends will be felt by every body at times. it had fashion on its side. Without shutting herself up from her family. but I was too old when the subject was first started to enter it--and. Edward.--with strong affections it was impossible. even in this less abstruse study of it. call it hope. made a very good appearance in the first circles." replied Edward. and drove about town in very knowing gigs . it is her duty. that your sons will be brought up to as many pursuits. Such behaviour as this. and if. come. many young men. by seeking silence. though it could not be communicated to Mrs. But as it was her determination to subdue it." "They will be brought up. That was a great deal too smart for me. "since leis ure has not promoted your own happiness." This desponding turn of mind. in a serious accent. appeared to interest herself almost as much as ever in the general concerns of the family. at length. The law was allowed t o be genteel enough. They rec ommended the army. who had chambers in the Temple." said Mrs. appeared no more mer itorious to Marianne. in every thing. Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he was out of the house. it must ere long become her happiness to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in discontent. or leaving the house in determined solitude to avoid them. "to be as unlike mysel f as is possible. which my family approved. in time. and her mother and sisters were spared much solicitude on her account. or lying awake the whole night to indulge meditation. will be. gave additional pain to them all in the parting. and to prevent herself from appearing to suffer more than what all her famil y suffered on his going away. and of the strength of he r own. Their means were as different as their objects. by this conduct. I suppose. that independence you are so anxious for. How much may not a few months do?" "I think. E . But I had no inclination for the law. "that I may defy many months to produce any good to me." said he. Dashwood. she dared not deny. I was therefore entered at Oxford and have bee n properly idle ever since. employments. it wa s at least prevented from unnecessary increase. she gave a very striking proof. professions. whatever be their education or state. and trades as Columella's. and a young man of eighte en is not in general so earnestly bent on being busy as to resist the solicitati ons of his friends to do nothing. in condition. as I still do. as I might be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on my back as with one. You are in a melancholy humour. That her sister's affections WERE calm. Dashw ood. As for the navy. than her own had seemed faulty to her. on a similar occasion. so exactly the reverse of her own. But that was not smart enough for my family. and fancy that any one unlike yourself must be happy .the church. which requ ired some trouble and time to subdue. The business of sel f-command she settled very easily. in action. wi th calm ones it could have no merit. to augment and fix her sorrow. and equally suited to the advancement of each. solitude and idleness. though she blushed to acknowledge it. You wan t nothing but patience--or give it a more fascinating name.

she was roused on e morning. had a very pretty face. Mrs. so I said to Sir John. except when she laughed . on a subject so interesting. her reflection. I believe. approbation. but o . he left the rest of the party to the ceremony of knocking at the door.--with tenderness. Mrs. How do you like them?" "Hush! they will hear you. by the arrival of company. without taking that liberty. She happ ened to be quite alone. a gentleman and lady. I have brought my other son and daughter to see you. and every effect of solitude was produced. She came hallooing to the window . "Well. Her mind w as inevitably at liberty. attended by Sir John. Palmer was several years younger than Lady Middleton. and they all sat down to look at one another. and her fancy. Jennings. and totally unlike h er in every respect. Charlotte is very pretty. "we have brought you some strangers. You may see her if you look this way. I do think I hear a carriage." said he. and of Edw ard's behaviour. in every possible variety which the different state of her spir its at different times could produce. and the p ast and the future. Lady Middleton introduced the two strangers. must force her attention. who had not patience enough to wait till the door was opened before she told HER story. must be before her. conversation was forbidden among them. to receive the rest of the party. smiled all the time of her visit. She was short and plump. as she sat at her drawing-table. From a reverie of this kind. and as soon as Sir John perce ived her. censu re. The closing of the little gate. at the entrance of the g reen court in front of the house. who were quit e unknown to her. my dear? How does Mrs. and smiled when she went away. "Where is Marianne? Has she run away because we are come? I see her instrument is open. I can tell you. in the middle of her story. Dashwood do? And where are your sisters ? What! all alone! you will be glad of a little company to sit with you. perhaps it is Colonel Brandon come back again"-Elinor was obliged to turn from her.linor found every day afforded her leisure enough to think of Edward." "She is walking. b ut it never entered my head that it could be them. but there were two others. she begged to be excused. "How do you do. when. Her manners were by no means so elegant as her sister's. Amongst them were Sir John and Lady Middleton a nd Mrs. Jennings. with an air of more fashion and sense than his wife. There were moments in abundance. though the space was so short between the door and the window. Dashwood a nd Margaret came down stairs at the same time. and stepping across the turf. pity." As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple of minutes. if not by the absence of h er mother and sisters. soon after Edward's leaving them. obliged her to open the casement to speak to him. as to make it ha rdly possible to speak at one without being heard at the other. and doubt. her thoughts could not be chained elsewhere. Jennings continued her story as she walked through the p assage into the parlour. and engross her memory. drew her eyes to the window. while Mrs. She came in with a smile. at least by the nature of their employments. but they were much more prepossessing. Her husband was a grave looking young man of fi ve or six and twenty. She was sitting near the window. I thought of nothing but whet her it might not be Colonel Brandon come back again." They were now joined by Mrs. and the fi nest expression of good humour in it that could possibly be. and she saw a lar ge party walking up to the door. Only think of their coming so sudd enly! I thought I heard a carriage last night. It is only the Palmers. while we were drinking our tea." "Never mind if they do.

"he never does sometimes. and. as to show she understood it. Palmer made her no answer. how beautiful these are! Well! how delightful! Do but look. "Well! what a delightful room this is! I never hink. for you know (nodding significantly and pointing to her daughter) it wa s wrong in her situation. aft er briefly surveying them and their apartments. witho ut ceasing till every thing was told. on the contrary. Palmer laughed. without speaking a word. however. and ushered her in himself. Jennings." continued Mrs. Palmer?" saw anything so charming! Only t last! I always thought it such a but you have made it so charming is! How I should like such a hou Mr. Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation. for they came all round by London upon account of some b usiness. "Now. and continued to read it as long as he staid. Palmer's eye was now caught by the drawings which hung round the room. the evening before. Palmer. as soon as she appeared. Mrs. if she had not been to Allenham. how it is improved since I was here sweet place. laughing. Palmer if there was any news in the paper. "You may believe how glad we all were to see them. and then returned to his newspaper. slightly bowed to the ladies." he replied. Dashwood. and speaking in a low voice as if she meant to be hear d by no one else. "She expects to be confined in February. "No. She got up to examine them. Palmer looked up on her entering the room. Palmer. two or three times over. Jennings." said she. He entered the room with a look of s elf-consequence. Mrs. and Mrs. she longed so much to see you all!" Mrs. bu t she would come with us. and read on. Jennings. on seeing their friends. Mrs. "Oh! dear. th at it had been quite an agreeable surprise. I wanted her to stay at home and rest this morning. Mama. she had never been used to find wit in the inattention of any one. how delightful every thing se for myself! Should not you. you shall see a monstrous pretty girl. "Here comes Marianne. was hardly seated before her admiration of th e parlour and every thing in it burst forth." added Mrs. Mr. Palmer laughed heartily at the recoll ection of their astonishment. Palmer does not hear me. who was strongly endowed by nature with a turn fo r being uniformly civil and happy. nor made suc h a long journey of it.f less willingness to please or be pleased. opened the front door. and could not help looking with surprise at them both. It is so ridiculous!" This was quite a new idea to Mrs. Mrs. Jennings asked her. Mrs. mama. talked on as loud as she could. stared at her som e minutes. and therefore exerte d herself to ask Mr. sister. and said it would not do her any harm. I can't help wishing they had not travelled quite so fast. Mr. leanin g forward towards Elinor. ho . and every body agreed. and continued h er account of their surprise." He immediately went into the passage. "but." cried Sir John. and did not even raise his eyes from the newspap er. none at all. ma'am! (turning to Mrs. "Mr. in the meantime. Palmer laughed so heartily at the question. Dashwood) ! Only look. took up a newspaper from the tab le. though they were seated on different sides of the room.

and only observed. a ll seemed equally anxious to avoid a family party." They thanked her. They attempted. if their parties are grown tedious and dull. and not li kely to be good. . seating herself between Elinor and Mariann e. Mrs. for the Westons come to u s next week you know. as soon as they were gone. at one door. He made her no answer. have you been asleep?" said his wife. or with us. likewise. to excuse themselves." They were obliged to put an end to such an expectation. When Lady Middleton rose to go away. It was quite a sudden thing our coming at all. "for it is so bad a day I was afraid you might not come. "The rent o f this cottage is said to be low. Mr. absolutely refused on her own account. "Not go to town!" cried Mrs." CHAPTER 20 As the Miss Dashwoods entered the drawing-room of the park the next day. Mrs. after again examining the room. We must go. pressed them. "I shall be quite disappoint ed if you do not. but were obliged to resist all her entreaties. Mrs. and the young ladies were obl iged to yield. Palmer ate their din ner. She took them all most affectionately by the hand.w sweet! I declare they are quite charming. and Mrs. as we go away again tomorrow. You must come. "I am so glad to see you!" said she. and I knew nothing of it till the carriage was coming to the door. and that the ceiling was crooked. next door to ou rs. if Mrs. which would be a sho cking thing. however we shall meet again in town ver y soon. but we have it on very hard terms. "by these freq uent invitations. I am sure I shall be very happy to chaperon you at any time till I am confined. looking as good humoured and me rry as before. I hope. He then made his bow. with a laugh. I could get the nicest house in world for you. her daughters might do as they pleased. Lady Middleton too. laid down the newspa per." "They mean no less to be civil and kind to us now." And then sitting down again. He is so droll! He never tells me any thi ng! I am so sorry we cannot stay longer. Palmer rose also. Sir John had been very urgent with them all to spend the next day at the park. Dashwood. therefore. that it was very low pitched. The alteration is not in them. But they had no curiosity to see how Mr. she very soon forgot that there were any such things in the room. Palmer came running in at the other. and then Mr. Palmer. and no expectation of pleasure from them in any other way. and expressed great delight in seeing them again. "Why should they ask us?" said Marianne. in Hanover-square. laughing. "My love. indeed. the weather was uncertain. Palmer joined their entreaties. We must look for the change elsewhere. Palmer aske d me if I would go with him to Barton. who did not chuse to dine with them oftener than they dined at th e cottage. stretched himself and looked at them all around." said Elinor. Jennings and Mrs. But Sir John would not be satisfied--the carriage should be sen t for them and they must come. though she did not press thei r mother. if we are t o dine at the park whenever any one is staying either with them. I could look at them for ever. and departed with the rest. than by those which we received from them a few weeks ago. Dashwood should not like t o go into public.

that it co uld not be done? They dined with us last. my love. "you have taken Charlotte off my hands. "Is it very ugly?" continued Mrs." said her husband. What the devil does Sir John mean by n ot having a billiard room in his house? How few people know what comfort is! Sir John is as stupid as the weather." When they were seated in the dining room." said Mrs. "you have not been able to take yo ur usual walk to Allenham today." The rest of the company soon dropt in. by rain. "How horrid all this is!" said he." Her love made no answer. Dullness is as much produced within doors as without. "Do yo u know that you are quite rude?" "I did not know I contradicted any body in calling your mother ill-bred." cried Mr. and after slightly bowing to the ladies. Palmer. when you spoke to me about it before." cried Mrs." "Much nearer thirty. We do not live a great way from him in the country." ." said his wife with her usual laugh." said Mrs. Palmer--"then it must be some other place tha t is so pretty I suppose. Palmer. for I think he is extremely hand some." "You and I." said Sir John. well! there is not much difference." "Then you would be very ill-bred. Sir John. "Ah." said the good-natured old lady. "for we know all about it. So there I have t he whip hand of you." said Mr. who just then entered the room --"you must help me to persuade the Miss Dashwoods to go to town this winter." Marianne looked very grave and said nothing. Why did not you ask the Gilberts to come to us today?" "Did not I tell you. I assure you. "Oh. It makes one detest all one's acquaintance. Not above te n miles. "it is very provoking that we should be so few. Sir John. though her countenance betrayed her interes t in what was said. I never was at his house. "My dear. and cannot give her back again. began complai ning of the weather. "My love you contradict every body. "Such weather makes every thing and every bo dy disgusting. "should not stand upon such ceremony . Marianne remained perfectly silent. you know. you may abuse me as you please. "I am afraid. I dare say." "Ay."Oh. Palmer. but they say it is a sweet pretty place." "As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life. Miss Marianne. and I admire your taste very much. Jennings. Palmer to her husband. don't be so sly before us." said he to his lady. Sir John observed with regret that th ey were only eight all together.

"don't you long to have the Miss Dashwoods come to Clevel and?" "Certainly. and so many people came to dine with us that I never saw before. "Oh. "But indeed you must and shall come. His temper might perhaps be a little soured by finding. "I never said any thing so irrational. Will you come and spend some time at Cl eveland this Christmas? Now. and his general abuse of every thing before him. The Westons will be with us. my dear Miss Dashwood." said Charlotte.--and come while the Westons are with us.--but she knew that this kind of blunder was too common for any sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it. you know. as they must live together. poor fellow ! it is very fatiguing to him! for he is forced to make every body like him. and exultingly said. he was the husba nd of a very silly woman. "Mr. "you see Mr. it is quite charming! But. "when he is in Parliament!--won't it ? How I shall laugh! It will be so ridiculous to see all his letters directed to him with an M. The motive was too common to be wondered at. Mr. but the m eans. so you cannot ref use to come. for Mr. Palmer expects you." ap plying to her husband. It was impossible for any one to be more thoroughly good-natured." They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation. The studied indifference. she believed. were not likely to attach any one to him except his wife. which produced his contemptuous treatment of every body. Don't you. Palmer is so droll!" said she." she continued--"he says it is quite shockin g. to Elinor. and when he scolded or abused her. he will never frank for me? He decl ares he won't." "There now. in a whisper. "He is always out of humour.--But do you know." said he. Palmer?" Mr. Palmer took no notice of her.P. Palmer soon afterwards. or more determined to be happy than Mrs." "No. You cannot think w hat a sweet place Cleveland is. and discontent of her husband gave her no pain. It was the desire of appearing superior to other people. Y ou cannot think how happy I shall be! It will be quite delightful!--My love.-. I am sure you will like it of all things. Don't palm all your abuse s of languages upon me. and we are so gay now.Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her husband could not get rid of her. however they might succeed by establishing his superiority in ill-breeding ."--said his lady. that through some unaccountable bias in favour of beauty. "He cannot bear writing. pray do." he replied. he says." Elinor was not inclined." . to give him credit for bei ng so genuinely and unaffectedly ill-natured or ill-bred as he wished to appear. Palmer." said Mrs. with a sneer--"I came into Devonshire with no other vi ew. "How charming it will be. insolenc e. after a little observation. and it will be quite delightful." Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she assented to the hardship of suc h an obligation. she was highly diverted.It was rather a wish of dist inction. like many others of his sex. Palmer is always going about the country canvassing against the election. she did not care how cross he was to her. "I have got such a favour to ask of you and your sister.

Is it true. very well. She thought it probable that as they lived in th e same county. and I will tell you how it happen ed. he is so pleasant. Palmer. Willoughby at Cleveland. This is always the way with him! Sometimes he won't speak to me for half a day together. you know. "you know much more of the matter than I do. To give such intelligence to a person who could not be interested in i t. than could be gathered from the Middletons' par tial acquaintance with him. for all that. I a ssure you I heard of it in my way through town. because you know it is what every body talks of. but I have seen him for ever in town. and he told me of it directly. Palmer excessively. and that one of them is going to be married to Mr." replied Mrs. but if he were ever so much there." "You surprise me very much. I hear.--I met Colonel Brandon Monday morning in Bond-street." "Upon my word." She surprised Elinor very much as they returned into the drawing-room. I know him extremely well. Palmer might be able to give some more particular account of Willoughby's general character. and so we began talking of my brother and sister. he turned back and walked with us. as you hav e been in Devonshire so lately. When we met him. I thought you would. I am monstrous glad of it.--but I was with my uncle at Weymouth. and besides it i s such a way off. and I said to him." "But I do assure you it was so. yes." "Don't pretend to deny it. pray? for of course you must know. Palmer would visit him. However. and mama sends me wo rd they are very pretty. is not what I should expect Colonel Brandon to do. for then I shall have her for a neighbour you know. ju st before we left town. Somehow or other I never happened to be staying at Barton while he was at Allenham." "Well--I am so glad you do. your sister is to marry him. Palmer!" "Upon my honour I did."There now. Pal mer is excessively pleased with you and your sisters I can tell you. and whether they were intimately acquainted with him. such a confi rmation of his merits as might remove the possibility of fear from Marianne. and she was eager to gain from any one. "he seems very agreeable. indeed. there is a new family come to Barton cottage. if you have any reason to expect such a match. I know why you inquire about him." Elinor was again obliged to decline her invitation. if it had not happened ver y unluckily that we should never have been in the country together. He is very l ittle at Combe. and by changing the subject . "Certainly. She began by inquiring if they saw much of Mr. and Mr.--I can't im agine why you should object to it. I do not think Mr. 'So. put a stop to her entreaties. I believe. Col onel. and one thing and another.--"Not that I ev er spoke to him." said Elinor.'" "And what did the Colonel say?" . and you can 't think how disappointed he will be if you don't come to Cleveland. Mama saw him here once before." "My dear Mrs. Will oughby of Combe Magna. "Oh dear. I dare say we s hould have seen a great deal of him in Somersetshire. Mrs. Colonel Brandon tell you of it! Surely you must be mistaken." replied Elinor. even if it were true. by askin g her whether she did not like Mr. for he is in the opposition. and then he comes out with someth ing so droll--all about any thing in the world. you see how droll he is.

"Oh--he did not say much; but he looked as if he knew it to be true, so from th at moment I set it down as certain. It will be quite delightful, I declare! When is it to take place?" "Mr. Brandon was very well I hope?" "Oh! yes, quite well; and so full of your praises, he did nothing but say fine things of you." "I am flattered by his commendation. He seems an excellent man; and I think him uncommonly pleasing." "So do I.--He is such a charming man, that it is quite a pity he should be so g rave and so dull. Mama says HE was in love with your sister too.-- I assure you it was a great compliment if he was, for he hardly ever falls in love with any b ody." "Is Mr. Willoughby much known in your part of Somersetshire?" said Elinor. "Oh! yes, extremely well; that is, I do not believe many people are acquainted with him, because Combe Magna is so far off; but they all think him extremely ag reeable I assure you. Nobody is more liked than Mr. Willoughby wherever he goes, and so you may tell your sister. She is a monstrous lucky girl to get him, upon my honour; not but that he is much more lucky in getting her, because she is so very handsome and agreeable, that nothing can be good enough for her. However, I don't think her hardly at all handsomer than you, I assure you; for I think yo u both excessively pretty, and so does Mr. Palmer too I am sure, though we could not get him to own it last night." Mrs. Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was not very material; but any testimony in his favour, however small, was pleasing to her. "I am so glad we are got acquainted at last," continued Charlotte.--"And now I hope we shall always be great friends. You can't think how much I longed to see you! It is so delightful that you should live at the cottage! Nothing can be lik e it, to be sure! And I am so glad your sister is going to be well married! I ho pe you will be a great deal at Combe Magna. It is a sweet place, by all accounts ." "You have been long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have not you?" "Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married.-- He was a particular friend of Sir John's. I believe," she added in a low voice, "he would have been very g lad to have had me, if he could. Sir John and Lady Middleton wished it very much . But mama did not think the match good enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have mentioned it to the Colonel, and we should have been married immediately." "Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's proposal to your mother before it w as made? Had he never owned his affection to yourself?" "Oh, no; but if mama had not objected to it, I dare say he would have liked it of all things. He had not seen me then above twice, for it was before I left sch ool. However, I am much happier as I am. Mr. Palmer is the kind of man I like." CHAPTER 21 The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, and the two families at Barton were again left to entertain each other. But this did not last long; Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her head, had hardly done wondering at Cha rlotte's being so happy without a cause, at Mr. Palmer's acting so simply, with

good abilities, and at the strange unsuitableness which often existed between hu sband and wife, before Sir John's and Mrs. Jennings's active zeal in the cause o f society, procured her some other new acquaintance to see and observe. In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with two young ladies, whom Mr s. Jennings had the satisfaction of discovering to be her relations, and this wa s enough for Sir John to invite them directly to the park, as soon as their pres ent engagements at Exeter were over. Their engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such an invitation, and Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alar m on the return of Sir John, by hearing that she was very soon to receive a visi t from two girls whom she had never seen in her life, and of whose elegance,--wh ose tolerable gentility even, she could have no proof; for the assurances of her husband and mother on that subject went for nothing at all. Their being her rel ations too made it so much the worse; and Mrs. Jennings's attempts at consolatio n were therefore unfortunately founded, when she advised her daughter not to car e about their being so fashionable; because they were all cousins and must put u p with one another. As it was impossible, however, now to prevent their coming, Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it, with all the philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting herself with merely giving her husband a gentle repr imand on the subject five or six times every day. The young ladies arrived: their appearance was by no means ungenteel or unfashi onable. Their dress was very smart, their manners very civil, they were delighte d with the house, and in raptures with the furniture, and they happened to be so doatingly fond of children that Lady Middleton's good opinion was engaged in th eir favour before they had been an hour at the Park. She declared them to be ver y agreeable girls indeed, which for her ladyship was enthusiastic admiration. Si r John's confidence in his own judgment rose with this animated praise, and he s et off directly for the cottage to tell the Miss Dashwoods of the Miss Steeles' arrival, and to assure them of their being the sweetest girls in the world. From such commendation as this, however, there was not much to be learned; Elinor we ll knew that the sweetest girls in the world were to be met with in every part o f England, under every possible variation of form, face, temper and understandin g. Sir John wanted the whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at his guests. Benevolent, philanthropic man! It was painful to him even to keep a thi rd cousin to himself. "Do come now," said he--"pray come--you must come--I declare you shall come--Yo u can't think how you will like them. Lucy is monstrous pretty, and so good humo ured and agreeable! The children are all hanging about her already, as if she wa s an old acquaintance. And they both long to see you of all things, for they hav e heard at Exeter that you are the most beautiful creatures in the world; and I have told them it is all very true, and a great deal more. You will be delighted with them I am sure. They have brought the whole coach full of playthings for t he children. How can you be so cross as not to come? Why they are your cousins, you know, after a fashion. YOU are my cousins, and they are my wife's, so you mu st be related." But Sir John could not prevail. He could only obtain a promise of their calling at the Park within a day or two, and then left them in amazement at their indif ference, to walk home and boast anew of their attractions to the Miss Steeles, a s he had been already boasting of the Miss Steeles to them. When their promised visit to the Park and consequent introduction to these youn g ladies took place, they found in the appearance of the eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible face, nothing to admire; but in the other, who was not more than two or three and twenty, they acknowledged conside rable beauty; her features were pretty, and she had a sharp quick eye, and a sma rtness of air, which though it did not give actual elegance or grace, gave disti nction to her person.-- Their manners were particularly civil, and Elinor soon a

llowed them credit for some kind of sense, when she saw with what constant and j udicious attention they were making themselves agreeable to Lady Middleton. With her children they were in continual raptures, extolling their beauty, courting their notice, and humouring their whims; and such of their time as could be spar ed from the importunate demands which this politeness made on it, was spent in a dmiration of whatever her ladyship was doing, if she happened to be doing any th ing, or in taking patterns of some elegant new dress, in which her appearance th e day before had thrown them into unceasing delight. Fortunately for those who p ay their court through such foibles, a fond mother, though, in pursuit of praise for her children, the most rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most cred ulous; her demands are exorbitant; but she will swallow any thing; and the exces sive affection and endurance of the Miss Steeles towards her offspring were view ed therefore by Lady Middleton without the smallest surprise or distrust. She sa w with maternal complacency all the impertinent encroachments and mischievous tr icks to which her cousins submitted. She saw their sashes untied, their hair pul led about their ears, their work-bags searched, and their knives and scissors st olen away, and felt no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment. It suggested n o other surprise than that Elinor and Marianne should sit so composedly by, with out claiming a share in what was passing. "John is in such spirits today!" said she, on his taking Miss Steeles's pocket handkerchief, and throwing it out of window--"He is full of monkey tricks." And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently pinching one of the same lad y's fingers, she fondly observed, "How playful William is!" "And here is my sweet little Annamaria," she added, tenderly caressing a little girl of three years old, who had not made a noise for the last two minutes; "An d she is always so gentle and quiet--Never was there such a quiet little thing!" But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin in her ladyship's head dre ss slightly scratching the child's neck, produced from this pattern of gentlenes s such violent screams, as could hardly be outdone by any creature professedly n oisy. The mother's consternation was excessive; but it could not surpass the ala rm of the Miss Steeles, and every thing was done by all three, in so critical an emergency, which affection could suggest as likely to assuage the agonies of th e little sufferer. She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, her wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the Miss Steeles, who was on her kne es to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar plums by the other. With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to cease crying. She still screa med and sobbed lustily, kicked her two brothers for offering to touch her, and a ll their united soothings were ineffectual till Lady Middleton luckily rememberi ng that in a scene of similar distress last week, some apricot marmalade had bee n successfully applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was eagerly propose d for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of screams in the youn g lady on hearing it, gave them reason to hope that it would not be rejected.-She was carried out of the room therefore in her mother's arms, in quest of this medicine, and as the two boys chose to follow, though earnestly entreated by th eir mother to stay behind, the four young ladies were left in a quietness which the room had not known for many hours. "Poor little creatures!" said Miss Steele, as soon as they were gone. "It might have been a very sad accident." "Yet I hardly know how," cried Marianne, "unless it had been under totally diff erent circumstances. But this is the usual way of heightening alarm, where there is nothing to be alarmed at in reality." "What a sweet woman Lady Middleton is!" said Lucy Steele.

"And what a charming little family they have! I never saw such fine children in my life. who seemed very much disposed for conversation. Miss Dashwood? I suppose you were very sorry to leave Sussex. provided they d ress smart and behave civil. "what a charming man he is!" Here too. Now t here's Mr. looking ashamed of her sister. But perh aps you young ladies may not care about the beaux. But I can't bear to see them dirty and nasty." In some surprise at the familiarity of this question. Miss Dashwood's commendation. if they had not so many as they used to have. who seemed to think some apology necessary for the freedom of her sister. I never think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence. being only simple and just. Miss Dashwood. I think they are vastly agreeable. and who now said rather abruptly.I suppose your brother was quite a beau. "We have heard Sir John admire it excessively. though with f ar less than Miss Lucy." "I should guess so. but you know. She did her best when thus called on. before h e married. Rose at Exeter. but it is so natural in Lad y Middleton." said Elinor. always fell. he is not fi t to be seen." said Lucy." "And had you a great many smart beaux there? I suppose you have not so many in this part of the world. and indeed I am always dist ractedly fond of children. I'm sure there' s a vast many smart beaux in Exeter. with a smile. For my part. I'm sure I don't pretend to say that there an't. and I was only afraid the Miss Dashwoods migh t find it dull at Barton. "from what I have witnessed thi s morning. by speaking of Lady Middleton with more warmth than she felt." cried the elder sister. ho wever trivial the occasion. came in wit hout any eclat. "I think every one MUST admire it." "I have a notion. as he was so rich?" . I cannot bear them if they are tame and quiet. my dear. how could I tell what smart b eaux there might be about Norland. and upon Elinor therefore the whole task of telling lies when politeness required it." "I confess. She merely observed that he was perfectly good humoured and frie ndly." replied Elinor. "who ever saw the place. I think they are a vast addition always. and yet if you do but meet him of a morning. and for my part." said Lucy. "And Sir John too.Marianne was silent. a prodigious smart young man. is not it?" added Miss Steele. or at least of the manner in which it was spoken. I love to see children full of life and spirits. "Norland is a prodigious beautiful place. "that the re are not as many genteel young men in Devonshire as Sussex?" "Nay. "that while I am at Barton Park. it was impossible for her to say what she did not feel. clerk to Mr." A short pause succeeded this speech. for my part. you know. and had as lief be without th em as with them. th ough it is not to be supposed that any one can estimate its beauties as we do. which was first broken by Miss Steele." replied Elinor. Simpson. " And how do you like Devonshire.-." said Lucy. perhaps they may be the outside of enough." "But why should you think. Elinor replied that she was.--I declare I quite doat upon them already. quite a beau. "you think the little Middletons rather too much indulged.

--and Elinor had not seen th em more than twice. "you can talk of nothing but beaux." replied Elinor. "'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so young to be sure. by making the Miss Steeles acquainted with whatever he knew or supposed of his c ousins' situations in the most delicate particulars. before the eldest of them wished her joy on her sister's hav ing been so lucky as to make a conquest of a very smart beau since she came to B arton. she left the house without any wish of knowing them better. and found productive of such countless jokes. Sir John could do no more. that if he ever was a beau b efore he married. To do him justice. and prodigious handsome. But this I can say. he had not a doubt of their being establis hed friends. in deed it was rather his favourite joke of the two. elegant." Elinor could not suppose that Sir John would be more nice in proclaiming his su spicions of her regard for Edward. and with whom they were particularly anxious to be better acquainted. The Miss Steeles. and as Elinor was not blinded by the beaut y. for as Sir John was entirely on the side of the Miss Steeles." said she.A nd to be better acquainted therefore. his family. they had never dined together without his drinking to her best affections with so much significancy and so many nods a nd winks. but he did not know that any more was required: to be together was. was perfectly of a piec e with her general inquisitiveness into the concerns of their family. as to excite general attention." cried her sister. "an d I hear he is quite a beau. their party woul d be too strong for opposition. than he had been with respect to Marianne. and that kind of intimacy must be submitted to. he did every thing in his power to promote their unreserve. she began admiring the house and the furniture. which. And I hope you may have as good luck yourself soon. This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough. and since Edward's visit. and agreeable girls they had ever b eheld. and while his continual sche mes for their meeting were effectual. But Sir Jo hn did not sport long with the curiosity which he delighted to raise. though often impertinently expressed. or the shrewd look of the youngest. well provided with admiration for the use of Sir John Middleton." And then to turn the disco urse. had now all the benefit of these jokes.--They came from Exeter.--but perhaps you may have a friend in the corner alrea dy. as she expected. Not so the Miss Steeles. as being somewhat newer and mo re conjectural. he is one still for there is not the smallest alteration in hi m. for he had at least as much pleasure in telling the name. that its cha racter as the wittiest letter in the alphabet had been long established with Eli nor. The letter F--had been likewise invari ably brought forward. and in the eldest of them they raised a curiosity to know the name of the gentleman alluded to.-. which consists of sitting an hour or two together in the same room almost every day. "I cannot tell you. and no nig gardly proportion was now dealt out to his fair cousins. to her want of real elegance and artlessn ess. whom they declared to b e the most beautiful. Elinor soon found was their inevitable lot . for I do not perfectly comp rehend the meaning of the word." "Lord! Anne. as Miss Steele had in hearing it . The vulgar freedom and folly of t he eldest left her no recommendation. and all his relations."Upon my word. to be intimate.--you will m ake Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing else. in his opinion." "Oh! dear! one never thinks of married men's being beaux--they have something e lse to do. accomplished.

her assiduities. Lucy was naturally clever." said Lucy to her one day. you cannot tell me what sort of a woman sh . or to encourage their advances. Anne?" cried Lucy. whose want of instruction prevented thei r meeting in conversation on terms of equality. "I wonder at that. but she saw. Then. Jennings de ficient either in curiosity after petty information. who missed no opp ortunity of engaging her in conversation. and suggested the susp icion of that lady's knowing. for I thought you must have seen her at Norland sometimes. or in a disposition to comm unicate it. inferiority of parts. "You will think my question an odd one. is he? What! yo ur sister-in-law's brother. and to the invariable coldn ess of her behaviour towards them. for no farther notice was taken of M r. but nothing more of it was said. "Though we have seen him once or twice at my uncle's. but her powers h ad received no aid from education: she was ignorant and illiterate. "His name is Ferrars. or fancying herself to know something to his disad vantage. and inte grity of mind. or even openly mentioned by Si r John." "How can you say so. or of striving to improve their acquai ntance by an easy and frank communication of her sentiments. but especially of Lucy. from the state of her spirits. her want of information in the most common par ticulars. of rectitude. increased her curiosity. Ferrars. though she did not chuse to join in it herself. to be pleased wi th the Miss Steeles. "And who was this uncle? Whe re did he live? How came they acquainted?" She wished very much to have the subj ect continued. "Mr. CHAPTER 22 Marianne. in a very audible whisper. Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself which soon became evident in the manners of both. she thought Mrs. which checked every endeavour at intimacy on their side. Ferrars's name by Miss Steele when alluded to. perhaps. are you p ersonally acquainted with your sister-in-law's mother. The manner in which Miss Steele had spoken of Edward. who had never much toleration for any thing like impertinence. and she could have no lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined insincerity with ignorance. "Indeed!" replied Lucy. could not be concealed from Miss Dashwood. the neglect of a bilities which education might have rendered so respectable. and pitied her for. Elinor saw. her flatteries at the Park betrayed. vulgar ity. I dare say. which her attentions. and her defi ciency of all mental improvement. and her countenance expressed it. and whose conduct toward others made every shew of attention and deference towards herself perfectly valueless. with l ess tenderness of feeling. i t is rather too much to pretend to know him very well. for it's a great secret. Mrs. for it struck her as being rather ill-natured." Elinor heard all this with attention and surprise. "but pray do not tel l it. the thorough want of delicacy. was at this time particularly ill-disposed. Ferrars?" Elinor DID think the question a very odd one." said he. who generally made an amendment to all her sister's assertions. her remarks were often just and amusing. Miss Dashwood? a very agreeable young man to be sure .--But her curiosity was unavailing. Ferrars is the happy man. or even difference of taste from herself. as she answered that she had never seen Mrs.. as they were walking together from the park to the cottage--"but pray. in spite of her constant en deavour to appear to advantage. and as a co mpanion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her agreeable. I know him very well. and for the first time in her life." "Ferrars!" repeated Miss Steele.

"No." "I am sorry I do NOT. and I re ally thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs. But really I never understood that you were at all connected with that family. eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke. when he knows I have trusted you. "You may well be surprised. at so serious an inquiry into her character. for enquiring about her in such a way. Ferrars must se em so odd. And I do not think Mr. Ro bert Ferrars? Can you be?" And she did not feel much delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law. "I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious. "if it could be of a ny use to YOU to know my opinion of her."--She paused. and they walked on for a few minutes in silence. amiably bashful." s aid Lucy. I should be very glad of your advice how to manage in such an uncomfortable situation as I am."I know nothing of her. I am sure I would ra ther do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours. who renewed the subject again by saying. S he turned towards Lucy in silent amazement. there is no occasion to trouble YOU. and felt in no danger of an hysterical fit. for I dare say he never dropped the smallest hint of it t o you or any of your family." said Elinor. And I am sure I should not have the smallest fear of trusting YOU. "not to Mr." Elinor made her a civil reply. and therefore I am a little surprised. because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your family. and I never should have mentioned it to you. that would have been as painful as it was strong. she stood firm in inc redulity. It was broken by Lucy. "what do you mean? Are you acquainted with Mr." "I am sure you think me very strange. or a swoon. with only one side glance at her companion to observe its effect on her. cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's mother. "to his eldest brother. in great astonishment." What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment. because it was always meant to be a great secret." "I dare say you are. but . But if I dared tell you all. and looks upon yourself and the other M iss Dashwoods quite as his own sisters. "for to be sure you could have had no idea of it before. unable to divine the reason or objec t of such a declaration. "Good heavens!" cried Elinor. indeed. that it ought to be explained. ." fixing her eyes upon Elinor. however. but." She looked down as she said this." continued Lucy. Not a soul of all m y relations know of it but Anne." returned Elinor. Mrs." replied Lucy. "but perhaps there may be reas ons--I wish I might venture. Ferrars. and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent curiosity-.e is?" "No. and though her complexion varied. with some hesit ation. if I had not felt the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy. ROBERT Ferrars--I never saw him in my life. I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. but however I hope you will do me the justice of be lieving that I do not mean to be impertinent. and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it. Ferrars can be displeased. you would not be so much surprised. had not an immediate disbelief of the assertion attended it. a nd I am sure has been faithfully kept so by me to this hour. Ferrars is certainly not hing to me at present--but the time MAY come--how soon it will come must depend upon herself--when we may be very intimately connected. I confess.

He was under my uncle's care .-. that really--I beg your pardon. Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Miss D ashwood. Ferrars. as you may imagine. but I was too young. "I did not know.You knew nothing of me." said she. Pratt?" "I think I have." "Our acquaintance. with revived security of Edward's honour and love. THAT was reason e nough for his not mentioning it. with an exertion of spirits. but sure ly there must be some mistake of person or name. of Park Street. but her self-command did not sink with it. . in a most painful perplexity.-. or my family. you must allow that I am not likely to be deceiv ed as to the name of the man on who all my happiness depends. Edward Ferrars." "Your uncle!" "Yes. and brother of your sister-in-law." Elinor. It wa s there our acquaintance begun. which increased with her increase of emotion. Mr. is of many years date." "Four years!" "Yes. and it was there our engagement was formed. We cannot mean the same Mr. though greatly shocked. and to s peak cautiously. the eldest so n of Mrs. though not till a year after h e had quitted as a pupil." replied Elinor. which tolerably well conceal ed her surprise and solicitude-. "that I should n ever have heard him even mention your name. she said. near Plymouth."May I ask if your engagement is of long standi ng?" "We have been engaged these four years. a considerable while.Though you do not know him so well as me. Fer rars." cried Lucy. you must have seen enough of him to be sensible he is very capable of m aking a woman sincerely attached to him. for my sister and me was often staying with my u ncle. you know. but at length forcing herself to speak." replied Elinor." "It is strange.Elinor for a few moments remained silent. without knowing what she said. Mrs. without the knowledge and appr obation of his mother. but after a moment 's reflection. smiling." She was silent. and. considering our situation. there could be no OCCASION for ever mentioning my name to you." "Certainly. with calmness of manner. I was ver y unwilling to enter into it. but he was almost always with us afterwards. and her companion's falsehood--"Engaged to Mr." "No. "He was four years with my uncle. is the person I mean." "We can mean no other. still felt unable to believe it. "Mr." answered Elinor. therefore. to be so pru dent as I ought to have been. it was not strange. who lives at Longstaple. as he was al ways particularly afraid of his sister's suspecting any thing. and. however. Our first care has been to keep the matter secret.--Elinor's security sunk. Pratt. John Dashwood. she added. "that you were even acquainted till the other day. Her astonishment at what she heard wa s at first too great for words. and loved him too well. Edward Ferrars!--I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me.

sh e looked directly at her companion. It does not do him justice. she could have none of its being Edwar d's face. "I think whether it would n ot be better for us both to break off the matter entirely. to be sure. after wiping her eyes. and when Elinor saw the painting. Besides in the present case. indeed. and I fancy she is an exceeding proud woman. Your secret is safe with m e. perhaps the falsehood of the greatest part of what she had bee n saying. and I am sure I was in the gre atest fright in the world t'other day. and I am so unfortunate. and seeing him so seldom--we can hardly meet above twice a-year. Y ou must at least have felt that my being acquainted with it could not add to its safety." said Elinor. She does not k now how to hold her tongue.--I have had it above these three years. I dare say." As she said this. hoping to discover something in her countenance. whate ver other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision. I felt almost as if you was an old acquaintance. Poor Edward! It put s him quite out of heart. she looked earnestly at Lucy. "But then at other times I have not resoluti on enough for it. I really thought some explanation was due to you after my m aking such particular inquiries about Edward's mother. be so good as to look at this face.I cannot bear the thoughts of making him so miserable. You can't think how much I go through in m y mind from it altogether." continued Lucy. as I know the very mention of such a thing would do. I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite broke." said she." As she said this." "You are quite in the right. What would you advise m . She returned it almost instantly." Then taking a small miniature from her pocket. "I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully keeping this secret. lest she should out with it all. Every thing in such suspense and un certainty. acknowledging the likeness. but Elinor did not feel very compassionate. for she would never approve of it. when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir J ohn. "I have never been able. Anne is the only person that knows of it." replied Elinor calmly."Four years you have been engaged." said she with a firm voice." She put it into her hands as she spoke. for I am in constant fear of her betraying me. "To prevent the possibility of mistake. I shall have no fortune. she ad ded. but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was drew for." "I certainly did not seek your confidence. And on my own account too--so de ar as he is to me--I don't think I could be equal to it. for he has been always so anxious to get it! But I am determined to set for it the very first opportunity. and she has no judgment at all. They then proceeded a few paces in silence. because you must know of what importance it is to us. I have not known you long to be sure. personally at l east. Lucy spoke first." continued Lucy." said she. but pardon me if I express some surprise at so unnecessary a communication. "Sometimes. "I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you. "to give him my picture in return. she does me a great deal mo re harm than good. I only wonder that I am alive after what I have suffe red for Edward's sake these last four years. as you must perceive. and as soon as I saw you. "I am sure. but Lucy's countenance suffered no change. or her wish of detecting fals ehood might suffer to linger in her mind. but I have known you and all your family by description a great while. and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait. not to have it reach his mother.-." Here she took out her handkerchief. "in telling you all this. "Yes. "but you do me no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on. that I have not a creature whose advice I can ask. wh ich I am very much vexed at.

Poor fellow!--I am afraid it is just the same with him now. particularly so when he first arrived. she was almost overcome--her heart sunk within her." continued Lucy.--He was tired." "Did he come from your uncle's. not being able to stay more than a fortnight wit h us. I dare say." "To be sure." "I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was the matter. that her success was spee dy. returning the letter into her pocket." She remembered too. I gave him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was a t Longstaple last. that he had been staying a fort night with some friends near Plymouth. but poor Edward is so cast down by it! Did you not think him dreadful low-spirited when he was at Barton? He was s o miserable when he left us at Longstaple. he had been staying a fortnight with us. could be authorised by nothing else . Miss Dashwood? What would you do yourself?" "Pardon me. it mig ht not have been Edward's gift." said Elinor. then. for he had just f illed the sheet to me as full as possible. a charming one it is. startled by the question. "is t he only comfort we have in such long separations. he says he should be easy. most feelingly sensible of every fresh circumstance in fa vour of Lucy's veracity. I heard from him just bef ore I left Exeter. Fortunately for her. Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?" "I did. "I remember he told us. If he had but my picture. I have one other comfort in his picture. confounded. might have been accidentally obtained. and she could doubt no longer. "his m other must provide for him sometime or other. and she struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings." replied Elinor. After sitting with them a few minutes. I dare say." Elinor saw that it WAS his hand. "We did. her own surprise at the time. at his total silen ce with respect even to their names. the Miss Stee les returned to the Park. Your own judgment must direct you. but it made him so melancholy. "Writing to each other. when he visited us?" "Oh. to go to you. This picture. with a composure of voice. Yes. he said. shocked. but poor Edward has not even THAT. "You know his hand. She was mortified . cou ld subsist only under a positive engagement.-. after a few minutes silence on both sides. . "but I can give you no a dvice under such circumstances. but th at is not written so well as usual. "Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy. but a correspondence between them by letter. but exertion was indispensably necessary." said Lucy." taking a letter from her pocket and carelessly showing the d irection to Elinor. indeed. Did you think he came direct ly from town?" "No.e to do in such a case. and Elinor was then at liberty to think and be wretche d. for he writes in wretched spirits. but not equal to a picture. and that was some comfort to him. that I was afraid you w ould think him quite ill. for a few moments. yes. s he had allowed herself to believe. at his mentioning nothing farther of those friends. they had now reached the cottage. and the conversation cou ld be continued no farther." replied Elinor. under which was concealed an e motion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt before. and for the time complete. and she could hardly stand. and seeing me so much affected.

her ind ignation at having been its dupe. sisters. highly blamable. but the four succeeding years--years. as overcame every fear of c ondemning him unfairly. and consoled by the belief that Edward had done no thing to forfeit her esteem. If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself. Pratt was a foundation for the rest. and contradicted by nothing but her own wishes. supported as it was too on every side by such probabilit ies and proofs. Fanny. under the first sma rt of the heavy blow. His imprudence had made her miserable for a while. could he. In that. while the same period of time. Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to m erit her present unhappiness. more than for herself. where no temptation could be answerable to the folly of inventing a falsehood of such a description. Had Edward been intentiona lly deceiving her? Had he feigned a regard for her which he did not feel? Was hi s engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart? No. what had he to look forward to? Could he ever be tolerably ha ppy with Lucy Steele.--Her resentment of such behaviour. how much more had he injured himself. with a heart so alie nated from Lucy. might not press very hard upon his patience. and Edward's visit near Plymouth. when the object of his engagement was undoubtedly inferior in connections. his melancholy s tate of mind. command herself enough to guard every suspicion of the tru . he could not be defended. but other ideas. Volume 1 ends. the letter. if her case were pitiable. dared not longer doubt. i n remaining at Norland after he first felt her influence over him to be more tha n it ought to be. at on ce indisputable and alarming. but melancholy was the state of the person by whom the expectation of family opposition and unkind ness. formed altogether such a body of evidence. the ring. which no partiality could set aside. how much greater were they now likely to be. could be felt as a relief! As these considerations occurred to her in painful succession. These difficulties. she wept for him . his uncertain behaviour towards herself.] CHAPTER 23 However small Elinor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be. which had often surprised her. indeed. with his integrity. the intimate knowledge of the Miss Steeles as to Norland and th eir family connections. but HE. His affection was all her own. soon arose. she thought she could even now. his delicacy. had perhaps robbed her of t hat simplicity which might once have given an interesting character to her beaut y. be satisfied with a wife like her--illiterate. all had been cons cious of his regard for her at Norland. his dissatisfaction at his own prospects.[At this point in the first and second editions. the picture. and well-informed mind. were his affection for herself out of the questi on. but if he had injured her. What Lucy had asserted to be true. his was hopeles s. it was not an illusion of her own vanity . must have opened his eyes to her defects of education. artful. other considerations. whatever it might once have been. Her mother. therefore. Their opportunit y of acquaintance in the house of Mr. which if ra tionally spent. his ill-treatment of herself. spent on her s ide in inferior society and more frivolous pursuits. She could not be deceived in that. What a softener of the heart was this persuasion! How much could it not tempt her to forgive! He had been blamable. and probably inferior in fortune to herself. but it seemed to have depr ived himself of all chance of ever being otherwise. give such improvement to the understanding. She might in time regain tra nquillity. for a short time made her feel only for hersel f. He certainly loved her. his difficulties from hi s mother had seemed great. and established as a fact. and selfish? The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to every thing b ut her beauty and good nature. it was i mpossible for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the present case. she could not believe it such at present. Elinor could not.

and that she was so. to combat he r own affection for Edward and to see him as little as possible. while her self-comma nd would neither receive encouragement from their example nor from their praise. by her readiness to enter on the matter again. she could not d eny herself the comfort of endeavouring to convince Lucy that her heart was unwo unded. it required no other consideration of probabili ties to make it natural that Lucy should be jealous. On the contrary it was a relief to her. she wa nted more clearly to understand what Lucy really felt for Edward. what had been entrust ed in confidence to herself. and she particul arly wanted to convince Lucy. and that Marianne was internally dwelling on the perfections of a man. and while she was firmly resolv ed to act by her as every principle of honour and honesty directed. and her calmness in conversing on it. to be spared the communication of what would give such affliction to them. though it obliged her to unceasing exertion. which she very much feared her involuntary agitation. and laughi . it was possible for them to be. And so well was she able to answer her own expec tations. That Lucy was disposed to be jealous of her appeared very probable: it was plain that Edward had always spok en highly in her praise. her ve ry confidence was a proof. that her firmness was as unshaken. must have left at least doubtful. not merely from Lucy's assertion. and which was more th an she felt equal to support. no one would have supposed fro m the appearance of the sisters. was no aggravation of Elinor's distress. though Lucy was as well disposed as herself to take advantage of any that occurr ed. And as she could now have nothing more painful to hear on the subject tha n had already been told. And even Sir John's joking intelligence must have had some weight. that when she joined them at dinner only two hours after she had first suffered the extinction of all her dearest hopes. and be taught to avoid him in future? She had little difficulty in un derstanding thus much of her rival's intentions. as with regrets so poignant and so fresh. Much as she had suffered from her first conversation with Lucy on the subject. and her own good sense so well supported her. From their counsel. their tenderness and sorrow must add to her distress. she did not mistrust her own ability of going through a repetition of particulars with composure. They met for the sake of eating. But indeed. but from her venturin g to trust her on so short a personal acquaintance. that Elinor was mourning in secret over obstacl es which must divide her for ever from the object of her love. She wanted to hear many particulars of their engagement repeated again. and none at all for particular discourse. she soon felt an earnest wish of renewing it. drinking. But it was not immediately that an opportunity of doing so could be commanded. while Elinor remained so well assured within herself of being really beloved by Edward. or their conversation. in their m orning discourse. and this for more reasons than one . and though they met at least every other evening either at the park or cottage. for the weather was not often fine enough to allow of their joining in a wal k. Such a thought would never enter either Sir John or Lady Middleton's head. she knew she could receive no assist ance. but that Elinor might be informed by it of Lucy's superior claims on Edward. and chiefly at the former. She was stronger alone. where they might most easily separate themselves from the others. whether there were any sincerity in her declaration of tender regard for him. The necessity of concealing from her mother and Marianne. that she was no otherwise interested in it th an as a friend. and whom she expected to see in every carriage which d rove near their house. her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable. with a secret so confessedly and evidently important. of whose whole heart she f elt thoroughly possessed. What other reason for the disclosure of the affair co uld there from her mother and sisters. and therefore very little leisure was ever given for a general chat. which would probably fl ow from the excess of their partial affection for herself. and to be saved likewise from hearing that condemnation of Edward. they could not be supposed to meet for the sake of conversation.

who could not bear to have her seclude herself from any chance of amusement. I have not touched it since it was tu ned. except her mother and the two Miss Steeles. I am sure she depends upon having it done. was persuaded by her mother. for it is the very best toned piano-forte I ever heard. to go likewise. ma'am. who fore saw a fairer opening for the point she had in view. more at liberty among themselves under the tranquil and well-bred direction of Lady Middleton than when her husband united them together in one no isy purpose. The young ladies went. And we will make the dear little love some amends for her disappointment to-morrow. she turned away and walked to the instrument . in the name of charity. They quitted it only with the removal of the tea-things." "You are very together. I am resolved to finish the basket after supper. and Lady Middleton was happily preserved from the fright ful solitude which had threatened her. it produced not one novelty of thought or expressi on. Lady Middleton looked as if she thanked heaven that SHE had never made so rude a speech. "Marianne can never keep long from that instrument you know." Lucy directly drew her work table near her and reseated herself with an alacrit y and cheerfulness which seemed to infer that she could taste no greater delight than in making a filigree basket for a spoilt child. and then I hope she will not much mind it. Margaret. playing at cards. They all rose up in preparation for a round game. though always unwilling to join a ny of their parties. Elinor. or any other game that was suffi ciently noisy. Lady Middleton." . the children accompanied them. who with her usual inattention to the forms of general civili ty. she was too well convinced of the impossib ility of engaging Lucy's attention to attempt it. that they would all dine with Lady Middleto n that day. "I am glad." This hint was enough. in such a party as this was likely to be. immediately accepted the invitation." And without farther ceremony. and while they remained there. Lucy recollected herself instantly and replied. or consequences. for though I told her it certainly would not. i f the basket was not finished tomorrow. I shall go to the piano-forte. and nothing could be less interesting than the whole of their discourse both in the dining parlour and drawing room: to the latter. as he was obliged to attend the club at Exeter. I would not disappoint the little angel for all the world: and if you want me at the card-table now." said Elino r. to beg. I know. Lady Middleton proposed a rubber of Casino to the others. "you are not going to finish poor lit tle Annamaria's basket this evening. and Marianne. for I am sure it must hurt your eyes to wor k filigree by candlelight. No one made any objec tion but Marianne. The insipidity of the meeting was exactly such as Elinor had expected. I am only waiting to know whether you can make your party without me. without affording Elinor any chance of engaging Lucy in private. when Sir John called at the cottage one morn ing." said Lady Middleton to Lucy. "Indeed y ou are very much mistaken. exclaimed. One or two meetings of this kind had taken place. and Elinor began to w onder at herself for having ever entertained a hope of finding time for conversa tion at the park. was equally compliant. endeavouring to smooth away the offence. I hope it won't hurt your eyes--will you ring the bell for some working candles? My poor little girl would be sadly disappointed. The card-table was then placed. "and I do not much wonder at it. or I should have been at my filigree already. and she would otherw ise be quite alone. with her mother's pe rmission. "Your Ladyship will have the goodness to excuse ME--you know I de test cards.

and. for having took such a liberty as to trouble yo u with my affairs. had by this time forgotten that any body was in the room besides herself. was l uckily so near them that Miss Dashwood now judged she might safely. The pianoforte at which Marianne. to finish it this evening. with the utmost harmony. Lucy made room for her with ready attention. Could you have a motive for the trust. or will you take your chance now?" Elinor joyfully profited by the first of these proposals. how I do love her!" "You are very kind. "I should be undeserving of the confidence you have honoured me with." and Elinor spoke it with t he truest sincerity. gained her ow n end. "for breaking the ice. "nothing could be farther from my intention than to give yo u such an idea." "Oh! that would be terrible. and that you really do not blame me. "there seemed to me to be a coldness and displeasure in your manner that made m e quite uncomfortable." replied Lucy. to acknow ledge your situation to me." cried Lucy. I felt sure that you was angry with me. for I was somehow or other afraid I had offended you by what I told you that Monday. under the sh elter of its noise. Elinor thus began. Your case is a very unfortunate one." said Miss Steele-. you seem to me to be surrounded w . if she woul d allow me a share in it." "Indeed I shall be very much obliged to you for your help. I will n ot apologize therefore for bringing it forward again. CHAPTER 24 In a firm. and there is so much stil l to be done to the basket. "Perhaps. "for I find there is more to be done to it than I thought there was. or no farther curiosity on its subject. I should like the work exceedingly." cried Lucy warmly." "Offended me! How could you suppose so? Believe me. engaged in forwarding the same work. in rolling her papers for her. and the two fair rivals were thus seated side by side at the sa me table. "and as you really like the work. though cautious tone. If you knew what a consolation it was to me to reli eve my heart speaking to you of what I am always thinking of every moment of my life." continued Elinor. But I am very glad to find it was only my own fancy. your compassion would make you overlook every thing else I am sure. "if I should happen to cut out. her little sharp eyes full of meaning. and it would be a shocking thing to disappoint dear Annamaria after all. introduce the interesting subject. I can easily believe that it was a very great relief to you. that it must be impossible I think for her labour si ngly. that was not honourable a nd flattering to me?" "And yet I do assure you. if I felt no desire for its continuance. indeed."Dear little soul. and thus by a little of that address which Marianne could never condescend to practise. wrapped up in her own music and her own thoughts.The remaining five were now to draw their cards. you have set my heart at ease by it. and be assured that you shall never have reason to r epent it. and have been qua rrelling with myself ever since." "Indeed. without any risk of being heard at the card-table. I may be of some u se to Miss Lucy Steele." said Lady Middleton to Elinor. and pleased Lady Middleton at the same time. perhaps you will be as well pleased not to cut in till another rubber." "Thank you.

" "He has only two thousand pounds of his own. perhaps. and it has stood the tria l so well. from his being so much more in the world than me. rather than run the r isk of her displeasure for a while by owning the truth?" "If we could be certain that it would be only for a while! But Mrs. as between many people. I do not mean to say that I am particu larly observant or quick-sighted in general. and from our diff erent situations in life. if there had been the slightest alteration in his beha viour to me when we met. I was enough inclined for suspicion. and he is undoubtedly supported by the same trust in your's. Ferrars. We must wait. wo uld very likely secure every thing to Robert. but Elinor was careful in guarding her countenance from ev ery expression that could give her words a suspicious tendency. and was silent. but in such a case I am sure I coul d not be deceived." ." "But what. though for my own part. very long absence since we were first engaged. I have been always used to a very small income. I can safely say that he has never gave me one moment's alarm on that account from the first. it would be madness to marry upon that. "are your views? or have you none b ut that of waiting for Mrs." Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this assertion. for Edward's sake. Robert Ferrars?" asked Elinor. With almost every other man in the world." "All this. or any lowness of spirits that I could not account for. "Edward's love for me. frightens away all my inclination for hasty measures. "is very pretty. and to all the tediousness of the many years of suspense in which it may involve you. If the strength of your reciprocal attachment had fai led. "Do you know Mr." Lucy looked at Elinor again." Lucy here looked up.ith difficulties. I believe. Ferrars's death. "Not at all--I never saw him. but Edward's affection and constancy nothing c an deprive me of I know. and our continual separation." thought Elinor. or seemed in any respect les s happy at Longstaple than he used to be. and the idea of that. Ferrars is a very headstrong proud woman. it may be for many years. which is a melancholy and shocking extremity?--Is her son determined to submit to this. by ou r long. your situation would have been pitiable. and under many circumstances it naturally would dur ing a four years' engagement. and you will have need of all your mutual affection to support you under them. that I should be unpardonable to doubt it now. of all that his mother might give him if he married to please her. or if he had talked more of one lady than another. I could give up every prospect of more without a s igh. it would be an alarming prospect." said she after a short silence. but I love him too well to be the selfish means of robbing him . "has been pretty well put to the test." "That conviction must be every thing to you. Mr. and in her first fit of anger upon hearing it." said Lucy. but it can impose upon neither of us. to have found out the truth in an instant. "I am rather of a jealous temper too by nature. Lucy went on. but I fancy he is very unlike his brother--silly and a great coxcomb. is entirely dependent on his mother. or you are carrying your disinterestedness beyond r eason. and could struggle with any poverty for him." "And for your own sake too. indeed.

indeed I am bound to let you into the secret. now my plan is that he shou ld take orders as soon as he can. it will be more for the happiness of both of you." Elinor blushed in spite of herself." "I should always be happy. for bringing matters to bear. "I believe it would be the wisest way to put an end to the business at once by dissolving the engagement. that i f you was to say to me. and we might trust t o time and chance for the rest. she is such a sly little creature.' I sh ould resolve upon doing it immediately. looking significantly round at them. and replied." said Mrs." "Then I rather suspect that my interest would do very little. though Marianne was then giving them the powerful pro tection of a very magnificent concerto-"I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has lately come into my head. and the present incumbent not likely to liv e a great while. Lucy bit her lip. "o n such a subject I certainly will not. Ferrars. I dare say. John Dashwood--TH AT must be recommendation enough to her husband. "to show any mark of my esteem and friendship for Mr. "you are mistaken there. whose ear had caught those words by a sudden pause in Marianne's music. Miss Dashwood?" "No. 'I advise you by all means to put an end to your engagem ent with Edward Ferrars. and looked angrily at her sister. which concealed very agitated feelings. with great solemnity. "I know nobody of wh ose judgment I think so highly as I do of yours. That would be enough for us to marry upon." "But Mrs." Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future wife. "for he is one of the modestest. with a smile. and I hope out of s ome regard to me."A great coxcomb!" repeated Miss Steele. which I am sur e you would be kind enough to use out of friendship for him." replied Lucy. but as for Lucy. for you are a party concerned. and I do really believe." answered Elinor. tha t though it would make us miserable for a time." cried Miss Steele. they are talking of their favourite bea ux.-. Lucy first put an end to it by saying in a lower tone." They were again silent for many minutes. Jennings. we should be happier perhaps in the end. John Dashwood would not much approve of Edward's going into orders." "No sister. You know very well that my opinion would have no weight with you. At length Lucy exclaimed with a deep s igh. "This . but do you not perceive that my interest on such an occasion would be perfectly unnecessary? He is brother to Mrs."Oh." "I can answer for it that Miss Dashwood's is not. laughing heartily." replied Elinor. I dare say you have seen enough of Edward to know that h e would prefer the church to every other profession. there is no finding out who SHE likes. But you will not give me your advice. and then through your interest. We seem so beset with difficulties on every side. your brother might be persuaded to give him Norland living." "Indeed you wrong me." cried Lucy. our favourite beaux are NOT g reat coxcombs. A mutual silence took place for some time. "I dare say Lucy' s beau is quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss Dashwood's. unless it were on the side of your wishes. wh ich I understand is a very good one. prettiest behaved young men I ever s aw." "Oh.

and dismis sed as soon as civility would allow. otherwise London would have no charms for me. and when entered on by Lucy. The visit of the Miss Steeles at Barton Park was lengthened far beyond what the first invitation implied.compliment would effectually frighten me from giving any opinion on the subject had I formed one. of which she seemed so thoroughly aware that he was weary." "I am sorry for that. From this time the subject was never revived by Elinor. succeeded this speech. and which were dangerous to herself. and l aying a particular stress on those words. and in spite of their numerous and long arr anged engagements in Exeter. they were prevailed on to stay nearly two months at the park. in spite of the absolute necessity of returning to fulfill them immediately. while her eyes brightened at the inf ormation. "that your judgment might justly have such weight with me. H e will be there in February. with some pique. the power of dividing tw o people so tenderly attached is too much for an indifferent person. and was particularly c areful to inform her confidante. and was even partly det ermined never to mention the subject again. Miss Dashwood?" said she with all her accust omary complacency. If you could be supposed to be biased in any respect by you r own feelings. It raises my influence much too high. and the confidential discourse of the two ladies was therefore at an end. for self-interest alone could induce a woman to keep a man to an engagement. "Shall you be in town this winter." "It will not be in my power to accept their invitation if they do. they could not be spared. it was treated by the former with calmness and caution." "'Tis because you are an indifferent person." returned the other." said Lucy. for nothing had been said on either side to make them dislike each other less than they had done before. Anne and me are to go the latter end of January to some relations who have been wanting us t o visit them these several years! But I only go for the sake of seeing Edward. your brother and sister will ask you to c ome to them. and Lucy was still the first to end it. and Elinor sat down to the card table with the melancholy persuasion that Edward was not only without affection for the person who was to be his wife. lest they might provoke eac h other to an unsuitable increase of ease and unreserve. "it would have gave me such pleasure to meet you there! But I dare say you will go for all that. CHAPTER 25 ." Elinor was soon called to the card-table by the conclusion of the first rubber. Another pause therefore of many minu tes' duration. Sir John would not hear of their going. "Certainly not. Their favour increased. who seldom missed an opportunity of introducing it. To be sure." "How unlucky that is! I had quite depended upon meeting you there. and to assist in the d ue celebration of that festival which requires a more than ordinary share of pri vate balls and large dinners to proclaim its importance. I hav e not spirits for it. which was in full force at the end of every week." Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this. but that he h ad not even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage. to wh ich both of them submitted without any reluctance. for she felt such conversations to be an in dulgence which Lucy did not deserve. of her happiness whenever she received a letter from Edward. your opinion would not be worth having. which sincere affec tion on HER side would have given.

"Oh. Lord! I am sure your mother can spare you very well. for I hav e had such good luck in getting my own children off my hands that she will think me a very fit person to have the charge of you. asked the elder Misses Dashwood to accompany her. Jennings received the refusal with some surpri se. kindest mother. if not both of them. and merely referred it to her mother's decision. let us str ike hands upon the bargain. which she could not approve of fo r Marianne. Miss Marianne. made no farther direct opposition to the plan. she was not without a settled habitati on of her own. must not be a strugg le. whether Miss Dashwood will go or not. who had traded with success in a less elegant part of the town. in which she believed herself to be speaking their united inclinatio ns. for I shan't put myself at all out of m y way for you. Come. and the animated look which s poke no indifference to the plan. it shall not be my fault. Elinor.--I feel the justice of what Elinor has urged." cried Mrs. Towards this home. Jennings was in the habit of spending a large portion of the year a t the houses of her children and friends." Mrs. Jennings. But one or the other. from whom however she scarcely expected to receive an y support in her endeavour to prevent a visit. So I would advise you two. she had resided every winter in a house in one of the streets near Portman Square. Wh atever Marianne was desirous of. you may always go with one of my daughters. Since the death of her husband. why so much the better. she began on the approach o f January to turn her thoughts. Dashwood could spare them perfec tly well. Mrs. her mother would be eager to promote--she could not expect to influence the latter to cautiousness of conduct in an affair resp ." "I thank you. Lord bless me! how do you think I can live poking by myself. and Elinor." said Sir John.Though Mrs. and when we are in town. I must have. almost the greatest happiness I am capable of." "I have a notion. and which on her own account she had particular reasons to avoid. and if Miss Dashwood will change her mind by and bye . I sh all speak a good word for you to all the young men. "I am sure I shall be monstrous glad of Miss Marian ne's company. I who have been always used till this winter to have Charlotte with me. It should not. and I hope I can affo rd THAT. only the more the merrier sa y I. my dearest. and repeated her invitation immediately. and saw to what indifferenc e to almost every thing else she was carried by her eagerness to be with Willoug hby again. if they got tired of me. It is very hard indeed that sh e should not have a little pleasure. if you do not like to go wherever I do. when you are tired of Barton. We three shall be able to go very well in my chaise. to be able to accept it. well and good. and very unexp ectedly by them. ma'am. and laugh at my old w ays behind my back. immediately gave a grateful but absolute denia l for both. to set off for town. and it would give me such happiness. Bu t my mother. because . with warmth: "your in vitation has insured my gratitude for ever. witho ut observing the varying complexion of her sister. and I thought it would be more comfortable for them to be together. less comfortable by our absence--O h! no. Jennings repeated her assurance that Mrs. yes. I am sure your mother will not object to it. and if I don't get one of you a t least well married before I have done with you. The reason alleged was their determined resolution of not leaving their moth er at that time of the year. witho ut saying a word to Miss Dashwood about it. if her elder sister would come into it. and if she were to be made less happy. you may depend upon it. and I DO beg you will favour me with your company. because Miss Dashwood does not wish it. It will only be sending Betty by the coach. who now understood her sister." said Marianne. Don't fancy t hat you will be any inconvenience to me. sincerely thank you." "Nay. "that Miss Marianne would not object to such a scheme. they might talk to one another. and thither she one day abruptly. for I've quite set my heart upon it. nothing should tempt me to leave her.

When you and the Mi ddletons are gone.ecting which she had never been able to inspire her with distrust. you will scarcely have any thing at all. she i s not a woman whose society can afford us pleasure." "Though with your usual anxiety for our happiness. "it is exactly what I could wish. though I think very well of Mrs. to whom she had often had difficulty in persuading Marianne to b ehave with tolerable politeness." "That is very true. You will be under the care of a motherly goo d sort of woman. and I am sure I could put up with every unpleasantness of that kind with ver y little effort." Elinor could not help smiling at this display of indifference towards the manne rs of a person. "you have been obviating every impediment to the present scheme which occurred to you. should overlook every inconvenience of that ki nd." she cried. so strong. or the faults o f his wife. and whatever may be his faults. Dashwood." said Mrs. Jennings. should disregard whatever must be most wounding to her irritable feelings. ins isted on their both accepting it directly. or that Mrs. It is very right that you SHOULD go to t own. that if her sister persisted in going. would not hear of their declining the offer upon HER account. persuaded that such an excu rsion would be productive of much amusement to both her daughters. thoroughly acquainted with Mrs. and perceivin g through all her affectionate attention to herself. was not prepared to witness. i n her pursuit of one object. of whose kindness to you I can have no doubt." said Marianne. with her u sual cheerfulness. and you will almos t always appear in public with Lady Middleton. "at least it need not prevent MY accepting her invitation. how much the heart of Maria nne was in it. Jennings' manners. To this determination she was the more easily reconciled. Dashwood. from t his separation. "And what." Marianne's countenance sunk. a variety of advantages that would accrue to them all. On being informed of the invitation. And in all probab ility you will see your brother. as she did not think it proper that Marianne should be left to the sole guidance of her own judgment. "I am delighted with the plan. or whose protection will giv e us consequence. and then began to foresee. which may now be performe d without any inconvenience to any one. was such a proof. separately from t hat of other people. Jennings's heart." said Elinor. Mrs. cannot be so easily removed. as Elinor. of the import ance of that object to her. I cannot bear to have you so wholly estranged from each other. there i s still one objection which. in my opinion. and she dared not explain the motive of her own disinclination for going to London. and resolved within herself. "but of her society. fastidious as she was." "If Elinor is frightened away by her dislike of Mrs." replied her mother." "My objection is this. we shall go on so quietly and happily together with our books and our music! You will find Margaret so improved when you come back again! I h ave a little plan of alteration for your bedrooms too. I would have every young woman of your condition in life acquainted with th e manners and amusements of London. in spite of all that had passed. she would go likewise. Ma rgaret and I shall be as much benefited by it as yourselves. I have no such scrupl es. J ennings should be abandoned to the mercy of Marianne for all the comfort of her domestic hours. so full. by rec . That Mari anne. and invariably disgusted by them. when I consider whose son he is. "is my dear prudent Elinor going to suggest? Wh at formidable obstacle is she now to bring forward? Do let me hear a word about the expense of it.

and Elinor. perhaps. With regard to herself. as calmly as she could. it was finally settled that the invitation should be fully accepted. with that happy ardour of youth which Marianne and her mother equally shared. especially Lucy. who seemed to consider the separation as any thing short of eternal. it is a matter of perfect indifference to me . and now on this attack. After very little farther discourse. and manner. Dashwood. Their departure took place in the first week in January. Mrs. Sir John was delighted. to the number of inhab itants in London. be en overcome or overlooked. and especially in being toget her. so short had their acquaintance with that lady been. was something. You will have much pleasure in being in London. Even Lady Middleton took the trouble of being d elighted. might be pr eviously finished. and El inor was the only one of the three. Her mother's affliction was hardly less. the acquisition of two. without wondering a t her own situation." Mrs. The Miss Steeles kept their station at the park. and said nothing.ollecting that Edward Ferrars. and when she saw her mother so thoroughly pleased with the plan. Her unwillingness to quit her mother was her only restorative to calmness. voic e. and shall always be glad to see him . Marianne lifted up her eyes in astonish ment. "I like Edward Ferrars very much. and elevated to more than he r usual gaiety. she could not be dissatisfied with the cause. by Lucy's account. whether I am ever known to them or not. and that their visit. without any unreasonable abridgement. and many assurances of kindness and care. nor was it a matter of ple asure merely to her. and if Elinor would ever condescend to anticipate enjoyment. could not witness the rapture of delightful expectation whi . and Elinor conjectured that she might as well have held her tongue. "these objections are nonsensica l. Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness." Elinor had often wished for an opportunity of attempting to weaken her mother's dependence on the attachment of Edward and herself. so who lly unsuited were they in age and disposition. Elinor submitted to the arrangement which counteracted her wishes with less rel uctance than she had expected to feel. Jennings received the information with a great d eal of joy. CHAPTER 26 Elinor could not find herself in the carriage with Mrs. and her sister exhilarated by it in look. which was putting herself rather out of her way. though almost hope less of success. restored to all her usual animation. The Middletons were to follow in about a week. but as to the rest of the family. in spite of every occasional doubt of Wil loughby's constancy. it was now a matt er of unconcern whether she went to town or not. and beginning a journey to London under her protection. she would. she would fore see it there from a variety of sources. and as for the Miss S teeles. and so many had been her objectio ns against such a measure only a few days before! But these objections had all. and at the moment of parting her gr ief on that score was excessive. and we re to quit it only with the rest of the family. they had never been so happy in their lives as this int elligence made them." said Mrs. whose prevailing anxi ety was the dread of being alone. "I will have you BOTH go. and would hardly a llow herself to distrust the consequence. so great was the perturbat ion of her spirits and her impatience to be gone. that the shock might be les s when the whole truth were revealed. for to a man. and as her guest. Jennings. was not to be in town before F ebruary. she forced herself to begin her design by saying. expect some from imp roving her acquaintance with her sister-in-law's family. Dashwood smiled.

ringing the bell. or boiled fowls to veal cutlets. Elinor thought she could distinguish a large W in the direction. Elinor said no more. Marianne's was finished in a very few minutes. laughed with her. how cheerless her own state of mind in the comparis on. and sat down for th at purpose. and Mrs. in proof of her having spent seven years at a great school i n town to some effect. from the co nfinement of a carriage. hastily. and no sooner was it complete than Marianne. should it be otherwise. She could scarcely eat any ds returned to the drawing room. as to ascertain what he was and what he mean t. "had not you better defer your letter for a day or two?" "I am NOT going to write to my mother. As dinner was not to be ready in less than two hours from their arrival. "I am writing home. and handsomely fitted up. and the conclusion which as inst antly followed was. and she continued her letter with greater alacrity. To atone for this conduct therefore ." replied Marianne. and how gladly she would engage in the solicitude of Marianne's situation to have the same animating object in view. seemed anxiously was a flutter in them which pr and this agitation increased a dinner. behaved with the greatest attention to Mrs. This conviction. and listened to her whenever she could. that. and only disturbed that she could not mak e them choose their own dinners at the inn. sealed. Jennings might be expected to be. wrapt in her own meditations. Marianne's eagerness to be gone declared her dependence on finding him there. They reached town by thr ee o'clock the third day. This decided the matter at onc e. They were three days on their journey. before many meetings had taken place. Marianne . Elinor determined to employ the interval in writing to her mother. She sat in silence almost all the way. Should the result of her observations b e unfavourable. and when they afterwar listening to the sound of ever . though not entirely satisfactory. a very short time however must now decide what Willoughby's intentions were. talked with her . Her spirits still continued very high. she was determined at all events to open the eyes of her sister." said Elinor. and as if wi shing to avoid any farther inquiry. and scarcely ever voluntarily speaking. glad to be released. it immediately struck h er that she must then be writing to Willoughby. Jennings on her side treated them both with all possible kindness. after such a filled the whole soul and beamed in the eyes of Marianne. and banish every regret which migh t lessen her satisfaction in the happiness of Marianne. but there evented their giving much pleasure to her sister. and the young ladies were imm ediately put in possession of a very comfortable apartment. Elinor took immediate possession of the post of civility which she had assigne d herself. was solicitous on every occasion for their ease and enjoyment. in all probability he was already in town. the same possibility of hope. nor extort a confession of their pre ferring salmon to cod. without feeling how blank was her own prospect. and over the mantelpiece still hung a landscape in coloured silks of her performance. but likewise upon watching his behaviour to her sister with such zealous attention. it was then folded up. her exertions would be of a different nature--she must then learn to avoid every selfish comparison. except when any object of picturesque beauty within their view drew from her an exclamation of delight exclusively addressed to her sister. and Marianne's behaviour as they travell ed was a happy specimen of what future complaisance and companionableness to Mrs . in length it could be no more than a note. and directed with eager rapidity. A short. and Elinor was resolved not only upon gain ing every new light as to his character which her own observation or the intelli gence of others could give her. In a few moments Marianne did the same. It had formerly been Charlotte's. however mysteriously they might wish to conduct the af fair. The house was handsome. s the evening drew on. and ready to enjoy all the luxury of a good fire. g ave her pleasure. Jennings. requested the footman who answered it to get th at letter conveyed for her to the two-penny post. they must be engaged.

She instantly saw that it was not unnoticed b y him. in the ecstasy of her feelings at that instant she could not help exclai ming. and already had Marianne been disappointed more than once by a rap at a neighbouring door. she asked if he had been in London ever since she ha d seen him last. when a loud one was suddenly heard which could not be mistake n for one at any other house. and began directly to speak of his pleasure at see ing them in London. for it is a long while since I have been at home. with her usual noisy cheer fulness. Jennings soon came in. by being much engaged in her own room. and she was fearful that her ques tion had implied much more curiosity on the subject than she had ever felt. "I am monstrous glad to see you--sorry I could not come before--beg you r pardon. and of every thing to which she could decently at tribute her sister's behaviour. and Marianne." said she. and she felt particularly hurt that a man so partial to her sister should perceive that she experienced nothing but grief and disappointment in seeing him. and she immediately left th e room. Jennings. and the thoughts of both engaged elsew here. "Oh. "Is your sister ill?" said he. and over fatigues. with some embarrassment. The tea things were brou ght in. Elinor felt secure of its announcing Willoughby's approach. where I have been dining. returned into the ro om in all the agitation which a conviction of having heard him would naturally p roduce. she opened the door. I have been once or twice at Delaford for a few days. but it has never been in my power to return to Barton. both of them out of spirits. with very little interest on either side. "Yes. when Colonel Brandon appeared. Colonel. as hardly left him the recollection of what civility demanded towards herself.y carriage. In this calm kind of way. and the manner in which it was said. said no more on the subject. how came you to conjure out that I should be in town today?" "I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr. but at the same time her regard for Colonel Brandon ensured his welcome with her. Elinor answered in some distress that she was. Jennings. but seeming to recollect himself. and you know one has always a world of little odd things to do after one has been away for any time. and then talked of head-aches. but s he was afraid of giving him pain by any enquiry after his rival. it is Willoughby." This. with such astonis hment and concern. moved towards the door. advanced a few s teps towards the stairs. this could not be borne many seconds. l ow spirits. and after listening half a minute. Elinor wished very much to ask whether Willoughby were then in town. that he even observed Marianne as she quitted the room. and at length. they contin ued to talk. It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs. I have been as busy as a bee eve r since dinner! But pray. and the frie nds they had left behind." .Lord. and settle my matter s. "Oh! Colonel. Elinor was disappointed too. Elinor. starting up. by way of saying something. "almost ever since. could see little of what was passing. Palmer's. It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness. making the usual inquiries about their journey. Mrs. immediately brought back to her reme mbrance all the circumstances of his quitting that place. Every thing was sil ent. and th en I have had Cartwright to settle with-. with the uneasiness an d suspicions they had caused to Mrs. indeed it is!" and seemed almost ready to t hrow herself into his arms. but I have been forced to look about me a little." he replied. He heard her with the most earnest attention.

Colonel. Jennings could not prevail on him to stay long. In Bond Street espec ially. that you w ill certainly see her to-morrow. I do not know what you and Mr. Ah! poor man! he has been dead these eight years and better. But Colonel. Your friend. Palmer's. Willoughby will do between you about her. Colonel Brandon became more thoughtful and silent than he h ad been before. though at the same time she would never have forgiven them if they had not come! "Mr. and how do they all do at their house? How does Charlotte d o? I warrant you she is a fine size by this time. you see but one of them now. So surpri sed at their coming to town." said she. her mind was equally abstracted from ev ery thing actually before them. come. The disa ppointment of the evening before seemed forgotten in the expectation of what was to happen that day. and Marianne was obliged to appear again." He replied with his accustomary mildness to all her inquiries. and in a few minutes she came laughing into t he room: so delighted to see them all. it was propose d by the latter that they should all accompany her to some shops where she had b usiness that morning."Oh. and Marianne. They had not long finished their breakfast before Mrs. her eyes were in constant inquiry. however it might equally concern them both: she r eceived no pleasure from anything. I thought as much. After her entrance. Ay. and Mrs. but it was som ething so droll!" After an hour or two spent in what her mother called comfortable chat. Restless and dissatisfied every where." "Mrs. or in ot her words. where have you been to since we parte d? And how does your business go on? Come. you did. . and I don't know what the greatest beauty can do more. though declining it at first was induced to go likewise. and I am commissioned to tell you. you see--that is. Palmer will be so happy to see you. where much of their business lay. from all that interested and occupied the others . Palmer appeared quite well. I got a very good husband. I have brought two young lad ies with me. could determine on none. Jennings and Elinor readily consented. expensive. Palm er's barouche stopped at the door. well. However. Jennings's side. but without sati sfying her in any. Miss Marianne. No othe r visitor appeared that evening. and in laughter without cause on Mrs. her sister could never obtain her opini on of any article of purchase. i t is a fine thing to be young and handsome. Elinor now began to make the tea. but I never was very handsome--worse luck for me. Well! I was young once. Palmer. whos e eye was caught by every thing pretty. to be sure. and dawdled away her time in rapture and indecision . though it was what she had rather expected all alon g. and c ould with difficulty govern her vexation at the tediousness of Mrs." "Ay. Wherever they went. to which Mrs. who was wild to buy a ll. was only impatient to be at home again. and in whatever shop the party were engaged. "What do you think he said when he heard of your coming with Mama? I forget what it was now. so angry at their accepting her mother's invitation after having declined her own. she was evidently always on the watch. as ha ving likewise some purchases to make themselves. but there is another somewhere. and the ladies were unanimous in agreeing to go early to bed. Marianne rose the next morning with recovered spirits and happy looks. or new. too--which you will not be sorry to hear . let's have no secrets among fri ends. in every variety of inquiry concerning all their acquaintance on Mrs. Well. that it was hard to say whether she recei ved most pleasure from meeting her mother or the Miss Dashwoods again.

"If she had not known him to be in town she would not have written to him. and after such a series of rain. that if appearances continued many da ys longer as unpleasant as they now were. Marianne was of no use on these occ asions. we shall certainly have very little more of it. This weather will keep many sportsmen in the country." "That is true. CHAPTER 27 "If this open weather holds much longer. after some consideration." said Mrs. "Has no letter been left here for me since we went out?" said she to the footma n who then entered with the parcels. "How very odd!" said she. as she sat down to the breakfas t table with a happy countenance. this extreme mildness can hardly last longer--nay. which declare d that no Willoughby had been there. as she would never learn the game. indeed!" repeated Elinor within herself. "Are you certain that no servant. Mrs. to be carried on in so doubtful." cried Marianne. Jennings. At this time of the year. for it was spent in all the anxiety of expectation and the pain of disappointment. and if he is in town. she would have written to Combe Magna. in a cheerful voice. as she did. and she returned to the more interesting employment of walking backwards and forwards across the room. and Elinor was obliged to as sist in making a whist table for the others. "Sir John will not like leaving Barton next wee k. Jennings's intimate acquaintance. The former left them soon after tea to fulfill her evening engagements. Poor souls! I always pity them when they do. they seem to take it so much to heart. "I had not thought of that. and when Elinor followed. Palmer and two elderly ladies of Mrs. a nd how will MY interference be borne. "How much they must enjoy it! But" (with a lit tle return of anxiety) "it cannot be expected to last long. regarding her sister with un easiness. pausing for a moment wheneve r she came to the window. but though her time was therefore at her own disposal. a man so little know n. in a low and disappointed voice. wh om she had met and invited in the morning. she would represent in the strongest m anner to her mother the necessity of some serious enquiry into the affair. you must be wro ng in permitting an engagement between a daughter so young. and walking to the window as she spoke. She was answered in the negative. the evening was by no means more productive of pleasure to her than to Elinor. and in all probability with severity. she found her turning from the table with a sorrowful countenance. so mysterious a manner! I long to inquire. Frosts will soon set in. but the book was soon thrown aside. when they met at breakfast the following morning. in hopes of distinguishing the long-expected rap. no porter has left any letter or note?" The man replied that none had.It was late in the morning before they returned home. "How odd." She determined. In another day or two perhaps. all her good spirits were restored by it. as she turned away t o the window." It was a lucky recollection. and no sooner had they en tered the house than Marianne flew eagerly up stairs. "Are you quite sure of it?" she replied. She sometimes endeavoured for a few minutes to read. perhaps it may freeze tonight!" . 'tis a sad thing for sportsmen to lose a day's pleasure. dined with them. "It is c harming weather for THEM indeed. to examine the day." she continued. ho w odd that he should neither come nor write! Oh! my dear mother.

to L ady Middleton's regret." Elinor was alternately diverted and pained. I can hardly keep my hands warm even in my muff. he will call again tomorrow. the sun will be out in a moment." Elinor." said Elinor. restored to those of her sis ter all. she had never dropped. His card was on the table when they came in from the morning's drive. Jennings' s style of living. "Good God!" cried Marianne. the expectation of seeing him every hour of the day. the certain symptoms of approaching frost. Elinor? There seems to me a very decided difference. who had a general invitation to the house. but who saw at the same time with much concern his continued regard for her sist er. yet while she saw Marianne in spirits. made her unf . "Depend upon it." silently conjectured Elinor. "I dare say we shall have Sir John and La dy Middleton in town by the end of next week. she could not be very uncomfortable herself. and every morning in the appearance of the atmosphere. who often derived m ore satisfaction from conversing with him than from any other daily occurrence. happy in the mildness of the weather. The morning was chiefly spent in leaving cards at the houses of Mrs. which was invariably kind. She feared it was a strengthening regard. formed only for cards. and more than all. the letter was written and sent away with a privacy which elude d all her watchfulness to ascertain the fact. About a week after their arrival. than with her behaviour to themselve s. Jennings's acquaintance to inform them of her being in town. and excepting a few old city friends. while it raised the spirits of Elinor. whether at home or abroad. could have little to amuse her. and on Mrs . and set of acquaintance. she visited no one to whom an int roduction could at all discompose the feelings of her young companions." But Marianne seemed hardly to hear her. my dear. Every thing in her household arrangements was cond ucted on the most liberal plan. The Miss Dashwoods had no greater reason to be dissatisfied with Mrs. and Marianne was all the time busy in observing the direction of the wind. and we shall have a clear afternoon. Pleased to find herself more comfortably situated in that particular than she had expect ed. This event. and still happier in h er expectation of a frost. and far as Elinor was from feeling thorough contentment about it. It grieved her to see the earnestn ess with which he often watched Marianne. and saw ev ery night in the brightness of the fire. "Don't you find it colder than it was in the morning. "she will write to Combe by this day's post. was with them almos t every day. whom. And Maria nne was in spirits. and his spirits were certainly worse t han when at Barton. watching the variations of the sky and imagining an alteration in the air. "he has been here while we were out." "Ay. wishing to prevent Mrs. Jennings from seeing her si ster's thoughts as clearly as she did. rejoi ced to be assured of his being in London. From this moment her mind wa s never quiet. it became certain that Willoughby was also ar rived. he came to look at Marianne and talk to Elinor. Elinor was very willing to compound for the want of much real enjoyment from any of their evening parties. now ventured to say. I think. which. Mary always has her own way. their former agitation. Jennings's entrance." But if she DID. but Marianne persevered."At any rate. I'll warrant you we do. Colonel Brandon. escaped with the precious card. Whatever the truth of it might be." "And now. The clouds seem parting too. It was not so yesterday.

Elinor found. and to amuse them wi th a ball." "Nay. Elinor. not convinced. "Yes. and the note being given her. I have nothing to t ell. with . then?" said Elinor. Jennings. Mrs. however. for although scarcely settled in town. but in London. because you do not communicate. they rec eived no mark of recognition on their entrance. and I. "It is indeed for Mrs. which she was not at l iberty to do away. distressed by this charge of reserve in herself. but a moment's glance at her sister when they returned was enough to inform her. The invitation was accepted. this reproach from YOU--you who have confidence in no one!" "Me!" returned Elinor in some confusion. and Mrs. wher e the reputation of elegance was more important and less easily attained. took it instantly up. Jennings. you. a little--not much. stepping hastily forward. announcing their arrival in Conduit Street the night before. when the evening was over. for still she had seen nothing of Willoughby. "No. when the others went out. th at they should both attend her on such a visit. "our situations then are alike. and a violent cold on her own. necessary as it was in common civility to Mrs. Elinor's thoughts were full of what might be passing in Berkeley Street during their absence. unable to be longer silent." Elinor." "Nor I. whom they had not seen before since their arrival in town. than unwilling to run the r isk of his calling again in her absence." But Marianne. under such circumstances. and a mere side-board collation. Elinor had some difficulty in pe rsuading her sister to go. We have neither of us any thing to tell. and requesting the company of her mother and cousins the following eveni ng. Marianne. from the former. the next morning. Sir John had c ontrived to collect around him. Jennings soon appeared. to have it known that La dy Middleton had given a small dance of eight or nine couple. nearly twenty young people. She insisted on being left behind. "indeed. I t was from Lady Middleton. This was an affair." After a short pause. it was risking too much for the gratification of a few girls. as he was careful to avoid the appearance of any attention to his mother-in-law. Mr. with two violins. she read it aloud. Business on Sir John's part. that disposition is not materially alt ered by a change of abode. Marianne. that Willoughby had paid no second visit there. "You have no confidence in me. "For me!" cried Marianne. be cause I conceal nothing. In the country. for my mistress. of which Lady Middleton did not approve. an unpremeditated dance was very allowable. but when the hour of ap pointment drew near. Palmer were of the party. ma'am. and the refore was not more indisposed for amusement abroad. knew not how. and therefore never came near her. to press for greater openness in Marianne. A note was just then brought in. He looked at them slightly." answered Marianne with energy. prevented their calling in Berkeley Street. how provoking!" "You are expecting a for any thing. and laid on the table.

" . "Aye. Mr. her suspicions of Willoughby's inco nstancy. Her letter was scarcely finished." said Mrs. something particular about her. and merely nodded to Mrs. Palmer sauntered towards the Miss Dashwoods to express his surprise on seeing t hem in town. and never so much fatigued by the exercise. when he was to congratulate her on the acquisition of a brother? Elinor was not prepared fo r such a question. Jennings. for it seems Sir John met him somewhere in t he street this morning." or "your sister see ms out of spirits. for. It was not the first time of her feeling the same kind of conviction. impatiently expected its opening. as if he had somewhat in particular to tell her. and Colonel Br andon was announced. "we know the reason of all that very well. of asking what he meant? He tried to smile as he replied. He looked more than usua lly grave. Mrs. by his asking her in a voice of some agitation. Marianne. too anxious for conversation." "Invited!" cried Marianne. and he had himself said something very droll on hearing that they wer e to come. had been there. to procure those inquiries which ha d been so long delayed. and hoped by awa kening her fears for the health of Marianne. and having no answer ready. while Marianne. Imp atient in this situation to be doing something that might lead to her sister's r elief. "When do you go back again?" "I do not know.out seeming to know who they were. beginnin g with the observation of "your sister looks unwell to-day." Marianne said no more. sat for some time without saying a word." said he. as she was that even ing. and though expressing satisfaction at finding Miss Dashwood alone. equally ill-disposed to r eceive or communicate pleasure. "I thought you were both in Devonshire. if a certain person who shall be nameless. "Did you?" replied Elinor. Elinor was very earnest in her application to her mother. aye. Jennings from the o ther side of the room. that Marianne was again writing to Will oughby. who had seen him from the window. but looked exceedingly hurt. "So my daughter Middleton told me. Elinor. left the room before he entered it. though Colonel Brandon had been first informed of their arrival at his house. and she was still more eagerly bent on this measure by p erceiving after breakfast on the morrow." And thus ended their discourse. too restless for employment. more than once before. Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance in her life. was obliged to adopt the simple a nd common expedient. and Elinor began her letter directly. their silence was broken. Jennings went out by herself on business. Elinor resolved to write the next morning to her mother. or of in quiring. for she could not suppose it to be to any other person. relating all that had passed. persuaded that he had some communication to make in which her si ster was concerned." he had appeared on the point. urging her by every plea of duty and affection to demand from Marianne an account of her real situation with respect to him. either of disclosing. when a rap foretold a visitor. After they had been assembled about an hour. and who hated c ompany of any kind. Marianne gave one glance round the apartment as she enter ed: it was enough--HE was not there--and she sat down. or sat down b y the fire in melancholy meditation. About the middle of the day. She complained of it as they re turned to Berkeley Street. After a pause of several minutes. you would not have been a bit tired: and to say the truth it was not very pretty of him not to give you t he meeting when he was invited. walked from one window to the other.

if I had not. but I had not supposed any secrecy intended. Jennings. in applying to her mother. till the moment of Lady Middleton's arrival. but I was convinced before I could ask the question. Marianne. Yet as she was convinced th at Marianne's affection for Willoughby. that in endeavouring to explain it. and insensi ble of her sister's presence. and seeming equally indifferent whether she went or staid. could leave no hope of Colonel Brandon's success." "How can that be? By whom can you have heard it mentioned?" "By many--by some of whom you know nothing. I came to inquire. and eve n when her spirits were recovered. when the serv ant let me in today. and their marriage is universally talked of. affected her very much. s he might be as liable to say too much as too little. The real state of things between Willoughby and her sister was so little known to herself. to Willoughby that he may endeavour to deserve her . to say more than she really knew or believed. prepared. to lessen the un easiness of her mind on other points. Palmer. wholly dispirited." "It cannot be generally known. and for this party." These words. But still I might not ha ve believed it." returned Elinor. and was prevented even from wishing it removed. and the Middletons. and on your prudence I have the strongest dependence. on the answer i t would be most proper to give. from which Mrs. whatever the event of that affection might be. or altering her attitude. for Willoughby neither came nor wrote. He listened to her with silent attention. and when at last they were told that Lady Middleto . she thought it most prudent and kind. Jennings was kept away by the indisposition of her youngest d aughter. Willoughby is very generally known. on the contrary. and on her ceasing to speak. if conce alment be possible. She sat by the drawing-room f ire after tea. that though she had never been informed by themselves of the terms on which they stood with each other. witho ut one look of hope or one expression of pleasure. by others with whom you are most in timate. to make Elinor regret what she had done. that in short concealment. "for her own family do not kno w it. and of their correspondence she was not astonished to hear. Is every thing finally settled? Is it impossible to-? But I have no right. Mrs. a fter some consideration. She ackno wledged. "to your sister I w ish all imaginable happiness. accidentally seen a letter in his hand. she was left. that any attempt. for where the mind is perhaps rather unwilling to be convinced. Mrs. careless of her appear ance. it will always find something to support its doubts. Elinor derived no comfortable feelings from this conversation. therefore. is all that remains.your sister's engagement to Mr. I believe I have been wrong in saying so much. They were engaged about the end of that time to attend Lady Middleton to a part y. and I could have no chance of succeeding. "I beg your pardon. but I hardly know what t o do. CHAPTER 28 Nothing occurred during the next three or four days. and went away. Excuse me."--took leave. by her anxiety for the very event that must confirm it. Wil loughby in your sister's writing. as they openly corr espond. I am afraid my inquiry has be en impertinent. She was not immediately able to say anything. lost in her own thoughts." He looked surprised and said. she debated for a short time. directed to Mr. Tell me that it is a ll absolutely resolved on. and after saying in a voice of emotion. without once stirrin g from her seat. of their mutual affection she had no doubt. which conveyed to Elinor a direct avowal of his love for her siste r. and at the same time wi shed to shield her conduct from censure. rose dir ectly from his seat. Miss D ashwood. with a mela ncholy impression of Colonel Brandon's unhappiness.

and he immediately bowed. He approached . My card was not lost." cried Elinor. and very m uch regretted that I was not fortunate enough to find yourselves and Mrs. "he is there--he is there--Oh! why does he not l ook at me? why cannot I speak to him?" "Pray. When they had paid their tribute of politeness by curtsying to the lady of the house . During all this time he was evidently struggling for c omposure. what is the meaning of this? Have you not received my letters? Will you not sha ke hands with me?" He could not then avoid it. At last he turned round again." "But have you not received my notes?" cried Marianne in the wildest anxiety. At th at moment she first perceived him. though he could no t but see her. before Elinor perceived Willoughby. to see whether it could be unobserved by her. Her face was crimsoned ove r. They arrived in due time at the place of destination. but without attempting to speak to her. and her whole countenance glowing with sudden delight. on catching the eye of the young lady with whom he had been previously . "H ere is some mistake I am sure--some dreadful mistake. she started up. Elinor turne d involuntarily to Marianne. ascended the stairs. alighted. in a voice of the greatest emotion. After some time s pent in saying little or doing less. and was unable to say a word. and pron ouncing his name in a tone of affection. "Good heavens!" she exclaimed. but her touch seemed painful to him. But the feelings of her sister were instantly expressed. heard thei r names announced from one landing-place to another in an audible voice. as if wishing to avoid her eye. Dashwood. or to approach Marianne. Lady Middleton sat down to Cassino. they were permitted to mingle in the crowd. and as Marianne was not in spirits for moving about. Elinor was robb ed of all presence of mind by such an address. she would have moved towards him instantly. Perhaps he has not observed you yet.n waited for them at the door. held out her hand to him. "Good God! Willoughby. quite full of company. she started as if she had forgotten that any one was expected. and then continued his discourse with the same lady. She soon caught his eye. Elinor watched his countenance and saw its expression becoming more tr anquil. what is the matter?" He made no reply. pray be composed. and he held he r hand only for a moment. his complexion changed and all his embarrassment returned. Jennin gs at home. and she exclaimed. in earnest conversation with a very fashion able looking young woman. and asked how long they had been in town. he spoke with calmness. and insufferably hot." This however was more than she could believe herself. "I did myself the honour of calling in Berkeley Street last Tuesday. Willoughby. and determined not to observe her attitude. to which their arrival must necessarily add. for heaven's sake tell me. "and do not betray what you feel to eve ry body present. it was beyond her wish. had not her sister caught hold of her. and as soon as the string of carriages before them would allow. I hope. After a moment's pause. They had not remained in this manner long. and ent ered a room splendidly lit up. What can be the meaning of it? Tell me. and to be composed at suc h a moment was not only beyond the reach of Marianne. she and Elinor luckily succeeding to chairs. placed themselves at no great distance from the table. inquired in a hurried manne r after Mrs. bu t as if. standing within a few yards of them. Sh e sat in an agony of impatience which affected every feature. and take their share of the heat a nd inconvenience. and addressing himself rather to Elinor than Marianne. and regarded them both.

till she might speak to him with more privacy and more effect. which you were so good as to send me. as a fresh argument for her to be calm. and prevented her from believing him so u nprincipled as to have been sporting with the affections of her sister from the first. but t hat such a regard had formerly existed she could not bring herself to doubt. too much oppressed even for tears. by exclamations of wretchedness. seemed equally clear. In a short time Elinor saw Willoughby quit the room by the door towards the staircase.-. at least. As for Marianne. had leisure enough for thinking over the p ast.talking. her sister then left her. now looking dreadfully white. Tell him I must see him again--must speak to him instantly. But ever y circumstance that could embitter such an evil seemed uniting to heighten the m isery of Marianne in a final separation from Willoughby--in an immediate and irr econcilable rupture with him. they departed as soon the carriage could be found. without any design that would bear investigation. on being informed that Marian ne was unwell. he recovered himself again. and after saying. Scarcely a word was spoken during their return to Berkeley Street. with the appearance of composure. on the pangs which so unhappy a meeting must already have give n her. and unable to stand. expecting every moment to see her faint." she cried. She was soon undressed and in bed. was too polite to object for a moment to her wish of going away. Her indignation would have been still stron ger than it was. she could not reflect without the deepest concern. and while sh e waited the return of Mrs. Lady Middleton. as she was too miserable to stay a minute longer. to wait. This is not the place for explanations. and t o persuade her to check her agitation. "Go to him. sunk into her chai r. a nd as she seemed desirous of being alone. he felt the necessity of instant exertion. "and force him to c ome to me. That some kind of engagement had subsisted between Willoughby and Marianne she could not doubt. I had the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival in town." With difficulty however could she prevent her from following him herself. Elinor. they could go directly to their own room. while reviving her with lavender water. where hartshorn restored her a little to herself. howev er they might be divided in future. for however Marianne might still feed her own wishes. Jenn ings was luckily not come home. and that Willoughby was weary of it. and telling Mari anne that he was gone. Wait only till tomorrow. and making over her cards to a friend. for while she could ESTEEM Edward as much as ever. Her own situation ga ined in the comparison. but as Mrs. Marianne. tried to screen her from the observation of others.Oh go to him this moment. Jennings." turned hastily away with a slight bow and joined his friend. Absence might have weak ened his regard.I canno t rest--I shall not have a moment's peace till this is explained--some dreadful misapprehension or other. She instantly begged her sister wo uld entreat Lady Middleton to take them home. . and Elinor. "Yes. her mind might be always supported. as soon as she could speak. had she not witnessed that embarrassment which seemed to speak a consciousness of his own misconduct. for Marianne continued incessantly to give way in a low voice to the misery of her feelings. Nothing but a thorough chang e of sentiment could account for it. was i mpossible.-. though in the middle of a rubber. and on those still more severe which might await her in its probable cons equence. SHE could not attribute such b ehaviour to mistake or misapprehension of any kind. and convenience might have determined him to overcome it. Mar ianne was in a silent agony. urged the impossibility of speaking to him again that eve ning." "How can that be done? No. my dearest Marianne. you must wait.

In this situation. and they were just setting themselves. "ask nothing. which appeared to her a ve ry good joke. at intervals. but so serious a question seems to imply more. and. when are they to be married?" life! MY as for Mi of my hea see her l Elinor." she replied. it was better for both that they shoul d not be long together. and yet they used to be foolish enough. and I must beg. you will soon know all. she is quite an altered creature. said. made her wander about the hous e till breakfast time. which she eagerly caught from the ser vant. instantly ran out of the room. by hoping. may I ask-?" "No. she said. "A nd have you really. It was some minutes before she could go on with her letter. and Elinor's atte ntion was then all employed. that you will not dece . At breakfast she neither ate. trying to smile. as if she had seen the direction. lasted no longer than while she spoke. who saw as plainly by this.CHAPTER 29 Before the house-maid had lit their fire the next day. I hope. and she wou ld have tried to sooth and tranquilize her still more. Jennings. Marianne. "Marianne. he won't keep her waiting much longer. it lasted a considerable time. and was immediately followed by a return of the same excessive affliction. therefore. to see any thing at all. after it. Pray. as soon as Marianne disappeared. replied. gloomy morning in January. when a letter was delivered to Marianne. though never less disposed to speak than at that moment. for it is quite grievous to ook so ill and forlorn. therefore. obliged hersel f to answer such an attack as this. As this was a favourite meal with Mrs. I never saw a young woman so desperately in love in my girls were nothing to her. turning of a death-like paleness. were proofs enough of her feeling how more than probable it was that she wa s writing for the last time to Willoughby. that it must c ome from Willoughby. however. and after observing her for a few moments with silent anxi ety." The sort of desperate calmness with which this was said. to withhold her pen. or the sun gained any po wer over a cold. Elinor paid her every quiet and unobtrusive attention in her power. talked yourself into a persuasion of my sister's bein g engaged to Mr. first perceived her. Ma'am. and which she treated accordingly. nor in appea ring to regard her. but in endeavouring to engage Mrs. from the bottom rt. Of Elinor's distress. not to speak to her for the world. not in pitying her. Elin or. had not Marianne entreate d her. saw only that Marianne had received a letter from Willoughby. she was too busily employe d in measuring lengths of worsted for her rug. but requirin g at once solitude and continual change of place. nor attempted to eat any thing. was kne eling against one of the window-seats for the sake of all the little light she c ould command from it. Willoughby? I thought it had been only a joke. Elinor. not in urging her. round the common working table . only half dressed. and sat in such a general tremour as made her fear i t impossible to escape Mrs. Jennings's notice entirel y to herself. but ss Marianne. felt immediately such a sickness at heart as made her hardl y able to hold up her head. Jennings's notice. avoiding the sight of every body. and the frequent bursts of grief which still obliged her. and calm ly continuing her talk. with a laugh. roused from sleep by her agitation and sobs. and. in a tone of the most considerate gentleness. that s he would find it to her liking. That good lady. with all the eagerness of the most nervous irritability. and writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would per mit her. In such circumstances. "Upon my word. and the restless state of Marianne's mind not only preve nted her from remaining in the room a moment after she was dressed. Elinor.

when you understand that my affe ctions have been long engaged elsewhere. very seriously. Elinor. she was not aware tha t such language could be suffered to announce it. I do assure you that nothing would surprise me more tha n to hear of their being going to be married. and then covering her face with her handkerchief. for shame. "you are mistaken. acknowledged no breach of faith. watched by her till this excess of suffering had somewhat spent itself. that it must bring a confession of his inconstancy. but it is no such thing. seemed to feel all the tenderness of this behaviour. Jennings laughed again. Indeed. but without saying a word. may be imagined. which you so obligingly bestowed on me. as to send a l etter so impudently cruel: a letter which. come. and you will find that you have though you will not believe me now. Though aware.ive yourself any longer. on opening the door. almost choked by grief. and flatter myself it will not be broken by any mistake or misapprehension of my actions. I shall reproach myself for not having been more guarded in my professions of that esteem. I shall never reflect on my former acquaintance with your family in D evonshire without the most grateful pleasure. you ar e doing a very unkind thing in spreading the report. and all day long. that they were over head and ears in love with each other from the first moment they met? Did not I see them together in Devonshire every day. Because you are s o sly about it yourself. you think nobody else has any senses. for which I beg to return my sincere acknowledgments. almost screamed with agony. It is with great regret that I obey your commands in returning the letters with which I have been honoured from you. and did not I know that your sister came to town with me on purpose to buy wedding clothes? Come. one letter in her hand. dear Madam. Ma'am. she saw Marianne stretched on the bed. My esteem for your whole family is very sincere. and confirm their separation for ever. w here. "I have just had the honour of receiving your letter. I tell every body of it and so does Charlotte. "Your most obedient "humble servant." said Elinor. but if I have been so unfortunate as to give rise to a belief of more than I felt. she put all the letters into Elinor' s hands. I am much concerned to find there was anything in m y behaviour last night that did not meet your approbation. nor could she have supposed Wi lloughby capable of departing so far from the appearance of every honourable and delicate feeling--so far from the common decorum of a gentleman. before she began it. "JOHN WILLOUGHBY. hurried away to their room. thoug h unable to speak. and it will not be many weeks. and . read as follows: "Bond Street. and then gave way to a burst of te ars. kissed her affectionately several times." Mrs. January. this won't do. shocking as it was to witness it. but Elinor had not spirits to say more. and seating herself on the bed. who knew that such grief. and two or three others laying by her. and then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter. I entreat your forgiveness of what I can assure you to have been perfectly unin tentional. Miss Dashwood! how can you talk so? Don't we all know th at it must be a match. The latter. denied a ll peculiar affection whatever--a letter of which every line was an insult. took her h and. and though I am quite at a loss to discover in what point I could be so unfortunate as to offend you. instead of bringing with his desire o f a release any professions of regret. That I should ever h ave meant more you will allow to be impossible. and eager at all events to know what Willoughby had written. I can tell you. "I am." "For shame. "MY DEAR MADAM. for it has been known all over town this ever so long. Elinor drew near. before this engagement is fulfilled. must have its course. or meant to express." With what indignation such a letter as this must be read by Miss Dashwood." "Indeed. and afte r some time thus spent in joint affliction. I believ e. and the lock of hair. which at first was scarcely less violent than Marianne's.

who could only exclaim. I know what a heart you have. "Poor Elinor! how unhappy I make you!" "I only wish. Oh! how easy for those. think of her misery while YOU suffer: f or her sake you must exert yourself. as a deliverance the most real. solemnly. "there were any thing I COULD do. l eave me. for it was many days since she had any appetite. and so bitter were her feelings against him." said Elinor. I am miserable. In her earnest meditations on the contents of the letter. A g lass of wine. when her mind wa s no longer supported by the fever of suspense. Jennings. YOU can not have an idea of what I suffer. she hurried a way to excuse herself from attending Mrs. and whom she reached just in time to prevent her from falling on the floor. if I distress you. a blessing the most important. she went to the window to see who could be co ming so unreasonably early. by saying. and now. w ho have no sorrow of their own to talk of exertion! Happy. lest she might wound Marianne still deeper by treating their disengage ment. happy Elinor. Marianne? Ah! if you knew!--And can you believe me to be so. for life. a weakened stomach. "leave me. that when on hearin g a carriage drive up to the door. Elinor could no longer witness this torrent of unresisted grief in silence. "I know yo u feel for me. dear Marianne. and so entirely forgot how long she had been in the room. was too much for Marianne. which Elinor procured for her directly. and she was at last able to express some sense of her kindness. She paused over it for some time with indignant astonishment. admitted the excuse most readily. and a general nervous faintness. forget me! but do not torture me so. a connection. not as a loss to her of any possible good but as an escape from the worst and most irremediable of all evils. to her ease. faint and giddy from a long want of proper rest and food. Determined not to quit M arianne. as every thing else would have been. Edward loves you--what. which migh t be of comfort to you.which proclaimed its writer to be deep in hardened villainy. forgive me. which she knew had not been ordered till one." This." cried Marianne. can do away such happiness as that?" "Many. leave me. Elinor forgot the immediat e distress of her sister. in the anguish of her heart. but every perusal only served to increase her abhorrence of the man . Jennings. Think of your mother." throwing her arms round her sister's neck. and Elinor. and probably. indeed. after seeing her safe off. while I see you so wretched!" "Forgive me. whom she found attempting to rise from the bed. Mrs. with a thoroughly good-humoured concern for its ca use. on the very different mind of a v ery different person. "Oh! Elinor. hate me. but yet you are--you must be happy. I cannot. on the depravity of t hat mind which could dictate it. "if you would not kill yourself and all who love you." "Do you call ME happy. made her more comfortable. she was all astonishment to perceive Mrs." she cried. on account of her sister bei ng indisposed. the consequence of all this was felt in an aching head." "I cannot. and many nights since she had really slept." replied her sister. "Exert yourself. though hopeless of contributing. with an unprincipled man. re turned to Marianne. . forgot that she had three letters on her lap yet unrea d. who had no other connection whatever with the affair than what her heart gave him with every thing that passed. many circumstances. oh what. Jennings's chariot. at present. " before her voice was entirely lost in sobs. then read it agai n and again. that she dared not trust herself to speak.

D."No. every hour of the day. "there has been no engagement. because we are generally out by one. Jennings. no. where there was a dance. but never professedly dec lared. Sometimes I thought it had been--but it never was." "You must not talk so. Mine is a misery which nothing can do awa y. directly ran over the contents of all. I wish you may receive this in time to come here to-night. before he chose to put an end to it." cried Marianne wildly. and I hope very soon to receive your personal assurance of its being oth erwise. Every additional day o f unhappy confidence. . nor my astonishment at not having received any answer to a note which I sent you above a week ago. on your side. and you not there. was in these words:-"I cannot express my disappointment in having missed you the day before yesterd ay. and I think you will feel something more than surprise. was a temptation we could not r esist." "No engagement!" "No. "How surprised you will be. I have been told that you were asked to be of t he party. as it might have been. Have you no comforts? no friends? Is your loss such as leaves no opening for consolation? Much as you suffer now." "Engagement!" cried Marianne." "I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state. "he loves you. when you know that I am in town. he is not so unworthy as you believe him. It was every day implied. would have made the blow more dreadful. no." Her second note." Elinor said no more. "M." "Yes--no--never absolutely." "But he told you that he loved you. I have been expecting to hear from you. which was what her sister had sent him on their arrival in town. and explai n the reason of my having expected this in vain. The first.But I cannot talk. think of wha t you would have suffered if the discovery of his character had been delayed to a later period--if your engagement had been carried on for months and months. Pray call again as soon as possible. adieu. though with Mrs. You had better come earlier ano ther time. But could it be so? You must be very much altered indeed since we part ed. if that could be the case. but I will not depend on it. You CAN have no grief. Berkeley Street. For the present. and turning again to the three letters which now raised a much stronger curiosity than before. was to t his effect. which had been written on the morning after the dance at the M iddletons'." "And you will never see me otherwise. and still more to see you. But I will not suppose this po ssible." "Yet you wrote to him?"-"Yes--could that be wrong after all that had passed?-. Marianne. and only you. He has broken no faith with me. An opportun ity of coming hither. At any rate I shall expect you to-morrow. on receiving this. Willoughby. January. We were last night at Lady Middl eton's.

D. and the lock of my hair which is in your possession. his manner. and she was silently grieving over the imprudence which had haz arded such unsolicited proofs of tenderness. I was repulsed indeed! I have passed a wretched night in endeavouring to excuse a conduct which can scarcely be called less than insul ting. "M. Beyond you three. Tell me what it is. I have been cruelly used. is there a creature in the world ."M." "He DID feel the same. could have been so answ ered. let it be told as soon as possible. that your behaviour to me was intended only to dece ive. than beli eve his nature capable of such cruelty. which now he can so readily give up. But h er condemnation of him did not blind her to the impropriety of their having been written at all. which may have lowered me in your opinion. perceiving that she h ad finished the letters. "but unfortunately he did not feel the same. I was prepared to meet you with the pleasure which our se paration naturally produced. I know he did.D. observed to her that they contained nothing but what an y one would have written in the same situation. rather than by his own heart. if I am to learn that you are not what we have hitherto believed you. I wish to acquit you." That such letters. as if the strict est legal covenant had bound us to each other." "Dearest Marianne." said Elinor. but if I am to do it. Elinor. for Willoughby's sake. "I felt myself. but when this emotion had passed awa y. but though I have not yet been able to form any reasonable apology for you r behaviour. in a firmer tone. had you heard hi s voice at that moment! Have you forgot the last evening of our being together a t Barton? The morning that we parted too! When he told me that it might be many weeks before we met again--his distress--can I ever forget his distress?" For a moment or two she could say no more." "I can believe it. with the familiarity which our intimacy at Barton a ppeared to me to justify. If your sentiments are no longer what they were. Elinor--for weeks and weeks he felt it." she added. This woman of whom he writes--whoever sh e be--or any one. that your rega rd for us all was insincere." The contents of her last note to him were these:-"What am I to imagine. in short. My feelings are at present in a state o f dreadful indecision. who but himself? By whom can he have been instigated?" "By all the world. explain the grounds on which you acted. You have per haps been misinformed. but certainty on either side will b e ease to what I now suffer. by your behaviour last night? Again I demand an explanation of it. W hatever may have changed him now. but your own dear self. Had you seen his look. Willoughby. I could rather believe every c reature of my acquaintance leagued together to ruin me in his opinion. in something concerning me. or purposely deceived. "to be as solemnly engaged to him. (and nothing but the blackest art employed aga inst me can have done it). may have b een so barbarous to bely me. I was once as dear to him as my own soul could wish. It woul d grieve me indeed to be obliged to think ill of you. and Edward. when Marianne. yo u will return my notes. mama. was begged of me with th e most earnest supplication. so full of affection and confidence. This lock of hair. and I shall be satisfied. I am perfectly ready to hear your justification of it. she added. in being able to satisfy you. and most severely condemned by the event. but not by Willoughby. not warranted by anything preceding . would have been unwilling to believe. "Elinor.

Willoughby. and it ended thus. in no possible way. could this be yours! Cruel. I must go home. "misery such as mine has no pride. nothing can. my dear sister. or discerning objects through the other. se ated at the foot of the bed. what would HE say to that!" . they who suffer little may be proud and independent as they lik e--may resist insult. "Elinor. cruel-nothing can acquit you. I must go and comfort mama. or return mortification--but I cannot. Elinor was employed in walking thoughtfully from t he fire to the window." "No. Willoughby. aga in took up Willoughby's letter. barbarou sly insolent!--Elinor. without knowing that she rec eived warmth from one. The Middletons and Palmers--how am I to bear their pity? The pity of such a woman as Lady Middleto n! Oh. and civility of the commonest kind must prevent such a hasty removal as that. I must feel--I must be wretched--and they are welcome to enjoy the consciousness of it that can. and only replied. another day or two. Whatever he might have heard again st me--ought he not to have suspended his belief? ought he not to have told me o f it.whom I would not rather suspect of evil than Willoughby. but I cannot stay here long. by seeing how nobly the consciousness of your own innocence and good intentions su pports your spirits. and. after shuddering over every sentence. where was your heart when you wrote those words? Oh. Willoughby." "Well then. to have given me the power of clearing myself? 'The lock of hair. "Whoever may have been so detestabl y your enemy. and Marianne." Another pause ensued. why should I stay here? I came only for Willoughby's sake--and now who ca res for me? Who regards me?" "It would be impossible to go to-morrow. let them be cheated of their malignant triumph. and how deeply contrived by her!--Who is she?--Who can she be?--Whom did I ever hear him talk of as young and attractive among his female a cquaintance?--Oh! no one. I cannot stay to endure the questions and remarks of all these people. I care not who kno ws that I am wretched. perhaps. Can not we be gone to-morr ow?" "To-morrow. can he be justified?" "No. Marianne was greatly agitated. no. whose heart I know so w ell?" Elinor would not contend. Elinor. Elinor. excla imed-"It is too much! Oh. The triumph of seeing me so may be open to all the world. no one--he talked to me only of myself. But to appear happy when I am so miserable--O h! who can require it?" Again they were both silent." "And yet this woman--who knows what her art may have been?--how long it may hav e been premeditated. Jennings much more than ci vility. Marianne. We owe Mrs. It is a reasonable and laudable pride which resists such ma levolence. Elinor. with her head leaning against one of its posts. (repeati ng it from the letter." "But for my mother's sake and mine--" "I would do more than for my own." cried Marianne. Marianne!" "Yes. from the window to the fire.) which you so obligingly bestowed on me'--That is unpardo nable.

was ready to assist her into the dining room as soon as they were summoned to it. She treated her the refore. and in restless pain of mind and body she moved from on e posture to another. But there is one comfort. but no attit ude could give her ease. who did justice to Mrs. and for some time was fearful of being constrained to call for assistance. and the abstrac tion of her thoughts preserved her in ignorance of every thing that was passing before her. said I. CHAPTER 30 Mrs.Elinor advised her to lie down again. with all the indulgent fondness of a parent towards a favourite child on the last day of its holidays. though looking most wretchedly. and I was almost ready to sink as it was. made her those acknowledgmen ts. Had she tried to speak. and felt that eve ry thing was due to her which might make her at all less so. Taylor told me of it half an hour ago.No wonder. and from that time till Mrs. Some lavender drops. her sister could wi th difficulty keep her on the bed at all. who turned away her face without attempting to answer. he has used a young lady of my acquaintance abominably ill. When there. Jennings's well-meant but ill-judged attentions to her. as if she supposed her y oung friend's affliction could be increased by noise. though its effusions were often distressing. opened the door and walked in with a look of real concern. Miss Dashwood?--Poor thing! she looks very bad. but not a syllable escaped her lips. Well.-. Mrs." Elinor. Marianne. he is not the only young man in the world worth having. and she wa s told it by a particular friend of Miss Grey herself. though believing it hardly possible that she could sit out the dinner. all I can say is. Marianne was to have the best place by the fire. and without waiting to have her request of admittance answered. But "no. i t is but too true. was to be tempted to eat by every delicacy in the house. for she had better have her cry out at once and have done with. and sometimes almost ridiculous. I will give him such a d ressing as he has not had this many a day. or had she been conscious of half Mrs. Ay. I have no notion of me n's going on in this way. my dear. she could bear it very well. pleased to have her gove rned for a moment by such a motive. however. "How is she. Elinor. "How do you do my dear?"--said she in a voice of great compassion to Marianne. which her sister could not make or return for herself. and with you r pretty face you will never want admirers. she ate more and was calmer than he r sister had expected. And so I shall always say. and I wish with all my soul his wife may plague his heart out." She then went away. and if ever I meet him again. and that will amuse her. and returned her those civilities. Th e Parrys and Sandersons luckily are coming tonight you know. walking on tiptoe out of the room. He is to be married very soon--a good-for-nothing fellow! I h ave no patience with him. and adjusting her dress for her as well as she could. Well. this calmness coul d not have been maintained. you may depend on it. else I am sure I should n ot have believed it. poor thing! I won't disturb he r any longer. which she was at length persuaded to take. were of use. said no more. she continued on the bed quiet and motionless. my dear Mis s Marianne. while Marianne still remained on the bed. that if this be true. Jennings's kindness. Jennings came immediately to their room on her return. Their good friend saw that Marianne was unhappy. to the surprise of her sister. Jennings returned. and to be amused by the . Elinor even advised her against it. she would go down. and the bustle about her would be less. determined on dining with them. till growing more and more hysterical. and for a moment she did so.

and a good fire. Miss Marianne would have been ready to wait till matters came round. to moan by herself. 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 h ad had a notion of it. as soon as she was gone." "Aye. he has no business to fly off from hi s word only because he grows poor. my dear. but when a young man. she directly got up and hurried out of the room. Biddy Henshawe. comes and makes lov e to a pretty girl. as the consciousness of all thi s was forced by continual repetition on Marianne. But now she is of age and may choose for herself. and that will amuse her a little. Jennings. turn off his servants. Ellison would not be sorry to have Miss Grey mar ried. No wonder! dashing about with his curricle and hunters! Well. I believe that will be best for her."-"And who are the Ellisons?" "Her guardians. Taylor did say this morning. Wha t shall we play at? She hates whist I know. stylish girl th ey say. for they say he is all to pieces. and make a thorough reform at once? I warrant you. and you know young people like to be laughed at abou t them. be who he will. J ennings's endeavours to cure a disappointment in love." "Do you know what kind of a girl Miss Grey is? Is she said to be amiable?" "I never heard any harm of her. Marianne. and a richer girl is ready to have him. "Poor soul!" cried Mrs. We ll. As soon. and go to bed. Had not Elinor. let his house. Fifty thousand po unds! and by all accounts. Ellison could never agree. it don't signify talking. I would send all over the town for it. that a man should use such a pretty girl so ill! Bu t when there is plenty of money on one side. Did you ever see her? a smart. Lord bless you! they care no more about such things!--" "The lady then--Miss Grey I think you called her--is very rich?" "Fifty thousand pounds. I shall persuade her if I can to go early to bed. and promises marriage. seen a check to all mirth. Let her name her own supper. nothing in the way of pleasure can ever be given up by the young men of this age.relation of all the news of the day. Lord! no wonder she has been looking so bad and so cast down this last w eek or two. that one day Miss Walker hinted to her. for she and Mrs. excep t that Mrs. and Mrs. this kindness is quite unnecessary. and next to none on the other. however. I am sure if I knew of any thing she would like. sell his horses. "how it grieves me t o see her! And I declare if she is not gone away without finishing her wine! And the dried cherries too! Lord! nothing seems to do her any good. that she believed Mr. how should I guess such a thing? I made sure of its being nothin g but a common love letter. in such a case. for I am sure she wants rest. With a hasty exclamation of Misery. Well. she could have been entertained by Mrs. indeed I hardly ever heard her mentioned. but not handsome. by a variety of sweetmeat s and olives. Is there nothing one can get to comfort her? Poor dear. Lord! how concerned Sir John and my daughters will be when they hear it! . I remember her aunt very well. But the family are all rich together. Why d on't he. will not leave her room again this evening. it seems quite cruel to let her be alone. I would not have joked her about it for all my money. i t is the oddest thing to me. she mar ried a very wealthy man. she could stay no longer." after pausing a moment--"your poor sis ter is gone to her own room. in the sad countenance of her sister. I suppose. But then you know. and a sign to her sister not to follow her. But that won't do now-a-days. it won't come before it's wanted. my dear. by-and-by we shall have a few friends. and a pretty choice she has made!--What now. I dare say. but is there no round game she cares for?" "Dear ma'am.

in silent misery. and fixing on the very rooms they were to live in hereafter!" Elinor. and as for your sister. had been her only light. I must do THIS justice to Mr. and the parsonage-house within a stone's throw. with all her natural hilarity. I can tell you. that he will. the sooner 'tis blown over and forgot. as I certainly will. I think the less that is sai d about such things. I am sure I would not mention a word about it to he r for the world. the better. nor my daughters. my dear! Don't pretend to defend him. Their own good-nature must point out to them the rea l cruelty of appearing to know any thing about it when she is present. before my sister. . as she expected. One shoulder of mutton. "we shall do very well with or wit hout Colonel Brandon." said Elinor. till Elinor's entrance. if we can do THAT. a thousand times prettier than Barton Park . He will have her at last. as you my dear madam will easily believe. Willoughby. especially if I give them a hint. moreover. whom she found. there is a dove-cote. and she hop ed it was not required of her for Willoughby's. you may see all the carriages that pass along. But I shall see them tomorrow. though Marianne might los e much. aye. and told them of it. I shall spirit up the Colonel as soon as I c an. for it will be all the be tter for Colonel Brandon. for it has been attended by circumstances which. or making the slightest allusion to what ha s passed. she went away to join Marianne. quite shut in with great garden walls that are covered with the best fruit-trees in th e country. aye. over the sm all remains of a fire. "Well. Palmer and Sir John against ever naming Mr. drives another down. some delightful stew-ponds. so 'tis never dull. and every thing. and have not a neigh bour nearer than your mother. and the l ess that may ever be said to myself on the subject. To my fancy. more so perhaps than in many cases of a si milar kind." "Law." And then rising.If I had my senses about me I might have called in Conduit Street in my way hom e. full of comforts and conveniences. in short. Two thousand a year without debt or drawback--except the little love-child. And what does talking ever do you know?" "In this affair it can only do harm. You saw I did not all dinner time. for if you only go and sit up in an old yew arbour behind the house. if they an't married by Mid-summer. burst forth again. No positive engagement indeed! afte r taking her all over Allenham House. my dear. he could gain very little by the enforcement of the real truth. Mind me. for her sister's sake. Oh! 'tis a nice place! A butcher hard by in the village. and such a mulberry tree in one corner! Lord! how Charlotte and I did stuff the only time we were there! Then. Ma'am. and. For my part. where they are forced to send three miles for their meat." "It would be unnecessary I am sure. leaning." "Oh! Lord! yes. you know. for you to caution Mrs. Mrs. 'tis a true saying about an ill-wind. indeed. It will be all to one a better match for your sist er. the more my feelings will be spared. After a short silence on both sides. an d then what does it signify? Delaford is a nice place. which. make it unfit to become the public conversation. for they are all very thoughtful and considerate. No more would Sir John. and a very pretty canal. Jennings. I had forgot her. It must be terrible for you to hear it talked of. could not press the subject farther. since. Well. Lord! how he'll chuckle over this news! I hope he will come tonight. for the sake of eve ry one concerned in it. exactly w hat I call a nice old fashioned place. Willoughby--he has broken no positive engagement with my sister. in her own room. it is close to the church. but she may be 'prenticed out at a small cost. that one could w ish for. and only a quarter of a mile from the turnpike-road. now. If we CAN but put Wil loughby out of her head!" "Ay. that I do indeed.

as she swallowed the chief of it. she at first refused to do. at present. Do take it have just recollected that I have some of the house that ever was tasted. and Elinor saw her lay her aching head on the pillow. Jennings was not struck by the same thought. Two ladies were wait ing for their carriage. whom I KNE W to be engaged--but how shall I tell you? If you know it already. Colonel Brandon came in while the party were at tea. in short. in a way to get some quiet rest before she left her." said she. where I had business. I may be spared." But this." "What did you hear?" "That a gentleman. with forced calmness. for soon after his entrance. she walked across the room to the tea-table where Elino r presided." "You mean. full of something. "if you will go to bed." Mrs. and as I think nothing will be of so much service to her as rest. that he was already aware of wha t occasioned her absence. however. I hope." replied Elinor. for this very morning first unfolded it to us. "what I heard this morning may be--th ere may be more truth in it than I could believe possible at first. and. and one of them was giving the other an account of the i ." said Elinor. and by his manner of looki ng round the room for Marianne. from the mo mentary perverseness of impatient suffering. that though its effects on a colicky gout were. whither she then repaired. Jennings. almost asleep. Willoughby's marriage w ith Miss Grey." He shortly afterwards drew a chair close to hers. and whispered-. entering. on a disappointed heart might be as reaso nably tried on herself as on her sister. I will drink the wine myself. and as she hoped. though gentle persuasion. smiling at the difference of the complaints for w hich it was recommended. inquired after her sister." "Dear Ma'am. Elinor immediately fancied that he neither expec ted nor wished to see her there. and we have persuaded her to go to bed. Her sis ter's earnest. Mrs. Willoughby is un fathomable! Where did you hear it?" "In a stationer's shop in Pall Mall. of little importance to her. with a look which perfec tly assured her of his good information. This seems to have been a day of general elucidation. "Marianne is not well. "My dear." said she. and Elinor." "Perhaps. he said it did him more good than any t to your sister. "I finest old Constantia wine in the a glass of it for your sister. we DO know it all. In the drawing-room. in her hand. that a man. "how good you are! But I have just left Marianne in bed . as surely you must. if you will give me leave. so I have brought poor husband! how fond he was of it! Whenever gout. wa s satisfied with the compromise. He know s nothing of it. "I will leave you. Mr. "She has been indisposed all day."The Colonel looks as grave as ever you see." answered Elinor." he hesitatingly replied. she was soon joined by Mrs. do tell him."You had better leave me. Jen nings. though regretting that she had not been five minutes earlier. whom I had reason to think--in short. with a wine-glass. soon softened her to complianc e. Yes. My he had a touch of his old colicky hing else in the world. my dear. its healing powers." was all the notice that her sister received from her . and. then. r eflected. "Mr. and.

was a Mrs. perhaps--but I am almost convinced that he never was really attached to her. and she . but Willoughby is capable--at least I think"--he stopped a momen t. One thing. they had gone through the subject again and again. in a voice so little attempting concealment. however. because it served to identify the man still more:--as soon as the cere mony was over. and who expe cted to see the effect of Miss Dashwood's communication. My ast onishment!--but it would be impossible to describe what I felt. as might have become a man in the bloom of y outh. saw him. and t he arrangement of the card parties. and at others. Elinor encouraged her as much as possible to talk of what she felt. At one m oment she was absolutely indifferent to the observation of all the world. then added in a voice which seemed to distrust itself." "Ah!" said Colonel Brandon. in some points. the same impetuous feelings and varying opinions on Marianne's. as I have been since informed. in such an instantaneou s gaiety on Colonel Brandon's side. if in any thing. Je nnings. "No. and before breakfast was ready. in avoiding. In one thing. Her heart was hardened against the bel ief of Mrs. no. lost every consolation in the impossibility of acquitting him. I believe." "It may be so." He made no answer. it cannot be. on inquiry. I remember. The communicativ e lady I learnt. they were to go to Combe Magna. especially. and that." she cried. first caught my attention. of hope and happiness. All that she wants is gossip. "And your sister--how did she--" "Her sufferings have been very severe. Jennings. and at a third could resist it with energy. Jennings's entering into her sorrows with any compassion. and with the same steady conviction and affectionate counsel on Elinor's side. there seems a hardness of heart about him. It has been. CHAPTER 31 From a night of more sleep than she had expected. it is a most cruel affliction. Till yesterday. The name of Willoughby. and may believe how eagerly she would still justify him if she could. indeed! But your sister does not--I thin k you said so--she does not consider quite as you do?" "You know her disposition. I have only to hope that they may be pro portionately short. his seat in Somersetshire. she never doubted his regard. Sometimes she could believe Willoughby to be as unfortunate and as innocent as herself. we may find an explanation. for I stayed in the shop till they were gone. who had watched them with pleasure while they were talking. when it came to the point. as before. she was uniform. Ellison. But have you likewise heard that Miss Grey has fifty thousand pounds? I n that. and what followed was a positive assertion t hat every thing was now finally settled respecting his marriage with Miss Grey-it was no longer to be a secret--it would take place even within a few weeks. Her kindness is not sy mpathy. her good-nature is not tenderness. "there is. and soon afterwards. Marianne awoke the next morni ng to the same consciousness of misery in which she had closed her eyes. is the name of Miss Grey 's guardian. "she cannot feel. He has been very deceitful! and. Mrs. and even now. and in a dete rmined silence when obliged to endure it. remain the whole evening m ore serious and thoughtful than usual. frequently r epeated.ntended match. no." "It is. at ano ther she would seclude herself from it for ever. wi th many particulars of preparations and other matters. John Willoughby. the subject was necessarily dropped. that it was impossib le for me not to hear all. by the removal of the tea-things. the presence of Mrs. with amazement. where it was possible.

though Mrs. brought little comfort. still referring her to the letter of comfort. and grieving still more fondly over its effect on her mother . by the eloquence of his eyes. Willoughby filled every page. never till then unwelcome. and positively re fusing Elinor's offered attendance. Mrs. with such tenderness towa rds her. Like half the rest of the world. by Marianne's letter. I bring you something that I am sure will do you good. Jennings no language. who came into the drawing-room on Mrs. she had never suffered. convincing. aware of the pain she was going to communicate. and she was wildly urgent to be gone. while the sisters were together in their own room after br eakfast. to intreat from Marianne greater openness towards them both. Elinor. by the irritable refinement of her own mi nd. Jennings's going away. went out alone for the rest of the morning. But the letter. remained fixed at the table where El inor wrote." Elinor had not needed this to be assured of the injustice to which her sister w as often led in her opinion of others. Jennings still lower in her estimation. Jennings was governed in it by an impulse of the utmost good will. Marianne. when she w as calm enough to read it. "Now. explanatory of all that had passed. that after many expressions of pity. Elinor. her mother was dearer to h er than ever. Jennings left them earlier than usual. at her feet. saying. grieving over her for the hards hip of such a task. full of tenderness and contrition. within her reach in her moments of ha ppiest eloquence. The hand writing of her mother. and this. and. in the acuteness of the disappointment which followed such an ecstasy of m ore than hope. In one moment her imagination placed before her a letter from Willoughby. The work of one moment was destroyed by the next. through her own weakness. for she could not be easy till the Middletons and Palmers were able to grieve as much as herself. while Marianne. then sat down to write her mother an account of what had passe d. the assurances of his letter. so entirely lost on its object. and the graces of a polished manner. she felt as if. could have expressed. and now she could reproach her only by t he tears which streamed from her eyes with passionate violence--a reproach. and she judge d of their motives by the immediate effect of their actions on herself. With a letter in her outstretched hand. satisfactory. had only been roused by Elinor's application. She exp ected from other people the same opinions and feelings as her own. Thus a c ircumstance occurred. till that instant. dearer through the very excess of her mistaken confidence in Willo ughby. and such a conviction of their future ha ppiness in each other. she wi thdrew. watching the advancement of her pen. if more than half there be that are clever and good. that she wept with agony through the whole of it. and relying as warmly as ever on his constancy. with a very heavy heart. and entreat her directions for the future. such affection for Willoughby. was before her.only likes me now because I supply it. and perceiving. All her impatience to be at home again now returned. was neither reasonable nor candid. with excellent ab ilities and an excellent disposition. rushing eagerly into the room to inforce. offered no co unsel of her own except of patience till their mother's wishes could be known. how ill she had succeeded in laying any f oundation for it. The cruelty of Mrs. unable herself to determine whether it were better for Marianne to be in London or at Barton. a nd at length she obtained her sister's consent to wait for that knowledge. she entered their room. which sunk the heart of Mrs. Her mother. and countenance gaily smiling. be cause. and instantly followed by Willoughby himself." Marianne heard enough. and the too great importance placed by her on the delicacies of a strong sen sibility. . it chanced to prove a source of fresh pain to h erself. from the persuasion of bringing comfort. my dear. howe ver. still confident of their engagement.

there is a very strong resemblance between them. by relating some circumstances which nothing but a VERY sincere regard--nothing but an earnest de sire of being useful--I think I am justified--though where so many hours have be en spent in convincing myself that I am right. and." said Elinor. and then. the same eagerness of fancy and spirits. and who saw THAT solicitude in his distur bed and melancholy look. which I was very desirous of doi ng." The event proved her conjecture right. "So early too! I thought we HAD been safe. for Colonel Brandon DID come in. to be brief. is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?" He stopped.--no. "I have NOT forgotten it. and HERS must be gained by it in t ime. My regard for her. and it SHALL be a short one. and I was the more easily encouraged. as Mrs. I hardly know where to begin. and Elinor. and added." "Indeed. My object--my wish--my sole wish in desiring it--I hope. Miss Dashwood. "can I have little temptation to be diffuse. went on. who was convinced that solici tude for Marianne brought him thither. "A man who has nothing to do with his own time has no conscience in his intrusion on that of others. "If I am not deceived by the uncertainty. your sister Marianne. Th e same warmth of heart. "We are never safe from HIM. lasting conviction to your sister's mind. You will find me a very awkward narr ator. when Marianne. I believe it is--is to be a means of giving comfort. in some measure. "I met Mrs. "You have probably entirely forgotten a conversation--(it is not to be supposed that it could make any impression on you)--a conversation between us one evenin g at Barton Park--it was the evening of a dance--in which I alluded to a lady I had once known. as resembling. though it was founded on injustice and e rror. with vexation. Pray. Willough by." retreating to her own room. pray let me hear it. "I understand you. for your mother--will you allow me to prove it. because I t hought it probable that I might find you alone. "and she encouraged me to come on. On such a subject." Marianne moved to the window-"It is Colonel Brandon!" said she. I believe. Jennings in Bond Street." said he. an orphan from her infancy. MY gratitude will be insured immedi ately by any information tending to that end. that will open his character farther.In this manner they had continued about a quarter of an hour. coul d not forgive her sister for esteeming him so lightly. and in his anxious though brief inquiry after her. as well in mind as person." "You shall." answered Elinor. after the first salutation. when I quitted Barton last October." He stopt a moment for recollection. "You have something to tell me of Mr. and under the guardiansh . "Who can this be?" cried Elinor. with another sigh. the partiality of tender recollection . was startled by a rap at the do or. will be necessary." He looked pleased by this remembrance." "I will not trust to THAT. Jennings is from home. A short account of myself.--but this wil l give you no idea--I must go farther back. Your telling it will be the greatest a ct of friendship that can be shewn Marianne. wh ose nerves could not then bear any sudden noise. I must not say comfort--not present comfo rt--but conviction." sig hing heavily. This lady was o ne of my nearest relations. for yourself." "He will not come in.

under a similar confinement. The treachery. was such. blooming. We were within a few hours of eloping together for Scotla nd. It was THAT which threw this gloom . pressed it. when I DID arrive. was of course to seek for her. and I was with my regiment in the East Indies) she should fall? Had I remained in England. affected by his relation. but the sea rch was as fruitless as it was melancholy. wh o was at once her uncle and guardian. The shock which her marriage had given me. of her divorce. till my father's point was gained. At last. He imagined. She was married--married against h er inclination to my brother. and she was allowed no liberty. Regard for a former servant of my own. no soci ety. and though she had promised me that nothing--but how blindly I relate! I have never told you ho w this was brought on.--even now the recollection of what I suffered--" He could say no more. She resi gned herself at first to all the misery of her situation. upon a mind so you ng. as we grew up. however. Hers. no amusement. The consequence of this. I had depended on her fort itude too far. with such a husband to provoke inconstancy. and fro m the first he treated her unkindly. of my cousin's maid betrayed us. as perhaps. and calmly could he imagine it. you might think me incapable of having ever felt. so inexperienced as Mrs. and for some time it did. a few months must have reconciled me to it. Elinor. he did not even love her. fervent as the attachment of your siste r to Mr. could not s peak." he continued. Willoughby and it was. and I learnt from my brot her that the power of receiving it had been made over some months before to anot her person. in the same house. and our family estate much encumbered. I fear. But can we wonder that. "was of trifling weight--was nothing to what I felt when I heard . and rising hastily walked for a few minutes about the roo m. was. and after I had been six months in England. and my affection for her. and coming to her. What I endured in s o beholding her--but I have no right to wound your feelings by attempting to des cribe it--I have pained you too much already. He saw her concern. "It was nearly three years after this unhappy period before I returned to Engla nd. Brandon's. and there was every reason to fear that she had removed from him only to sink deeper in a life of sin. or the folly. My first care. judging from m y present forlorn and cheerless gravity. Our ages were nearly the same. was my unfortunate siste r. i . and happy had it been if she had not lived to overcome those regrets which the remembrance of me occas ioned. in a voice of g reat agitation. A few minutes more of silent exertion enabled him t o proceed with composure. I cannot remember the time when I did not love Eliz a. healthful girl. perhaps--but I meant to promote the happiness of both by removing from her for years. was but too natural. so lively. I believe. that her extravagance. And this. took her hand. At seventeen she was lost to me for ever. where he was confined for debt. and from our earliest years we w ere playfellows and friends. s o young as I then was. So altered--so faded--worn down by acute suffering of every kind! hardly coul d I believe the melancholy and sickly figure before me. carried me to visit him in a spunging-house. for me. nor sufficient for her comfortable maintenance. I had hoped that her regard for me would support her under any d ifficulty. I DID find he r. and w ithout a friend to advise or restrain her (for my father lived only a few months after their marriage. though from a different cause. I could not trace her beyond her firs t seducer. to all appearance. My brother did not deserve her. This however was not the case. to be the remains of the lovely. and still more by his distress. his pleasures were not what they ought to have been. or at least I should not have now to lament it. That she was.ip of my father. and consequent distress. and for that purpose had procured my exc hange. fo r she experienced great unkindness. overcame all her resolution. who had since fallen into misfortune. and the blow was a severe one--but had her marriage been happy. on whom I had once doted. but at last the misery of her situation. no less unfortuna te. I was banished to the house of a relation far distant. My brother had no regard for her. Her fortune was large. had obliged her to dispose of it for some immediate rel ief. is all that can be said for the conduct of one. about two years afterwards. and kiss ed it with grateful respect. and there. Her legal allowance was not adequate to her fo rtune.

n the last stage of a consumption, was--yes, in such a situation it was my great est comfort. Life could do nothing for her, beyond giving time for a better prep aration for death; and that was given. I saw her placed in comfortable lodgings, and under proper attendants; I visited her every day during the rest of her sho rt life: I was with her in her last moments." Again he stopped to recover himself; and Elinor spoke her feelings in an exclam ation of tender concern, at the fate of his unfortunate friend. "Your sister, I hope, cannot be offended," said he, "by the resemblance I have fancied between her and my poor disgraced relation. Their fates, their fortunes, cannot be the same; and had the natural sweet disposition of the one been guard ed by a firmer mind, or a happier marriage, she might have been all that you wil l live to see the other be. But to what does all this lead? I seem to have been distressing you for nothing. Ah! Miss Dashwood--a subject such as this--untouche d for fourteen years--it is dangerous to handle it at all! I WILL be more collec ted--more concise. She left to my care her only child, a little girl, the offspr ing of her first guilty connection, who was then about three years old. She love d the child, and had always kept it with her. It was a valued, a precious trust to me; and gladly would I have discharged it in the strictest sense, by watching over her education myself, had the nature of our situations allowed it; but I h ad no family, no home; and my little Eliza was therefore placed at school. I saw her there whenever I could, and after the death of my brother, (which happened about five years ago, and which left to me the possession of the family property ,) she visited me at Delaford. I called her a distant relation; but I am well aw are that I have in general been suspected of a much nearer connection with her. It is now three years ago (she had just reached her fourteenth year,) that I rem oved her from school, to place her under the care of a very respectable woman, r esiding in Dorsetshire, who had the charge of four or five other girls of about the same time of life; and for two years I had every reason to be pleased with h er situation. But last February, almost a twelvemonth back, she suddenly disappe ared. I had allowed her, (imprudently, as it has since turned out,) at her earne st desire, to go to Bath with one of her young friends, who was attending her fa ther there for his health. I knew him to be a very good sort of man, and I thoug ht well of his daughter--better than she deserved, for, with a most obstinate an d ill-judged secrecy, she would tell nothing, would give no clue, though she cer tainly knew all. He, her father, a well-meaning, but not a quick-sighted man, co uld really, I believe, give no information; for he had been generally confined t o the house, while the girls were ranging over the town and making what acquaint ance they chose; and he tried to convince me, as thoroughly as he was convinced himself, of his daughter's being entirely unconcerned in the business. In short, I could learn nothing but that she was gone; all the rest, for eight long month s, was left to conjecture. What I thought, what I feared, may be imagined; and w hat I suffered too." "Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "could it be--could Willoughby!"-"The first news that reached me of her," he continued, "came in a letter from h erself, last October. It was forwarded to me from Delaford, and I received it on the very morning of our intended party to Whitwell; and this was the reason of my leaving Barton so suddenly, which I am sure must at the time have appeared st range to every body, and which I believe gave offence to some. Little did Mr. Wi lloughby imagine, I suppose, when his looks censured me for incivility in breaki ng up the party, that I was called away to the relief of one whom he had made po or and miserable; but HAD he known it, what would it have availed? Would he have been less gay or less happy in the smiles of your sister? No, he had already do ne that, which no man who CAN feel for another would do. He had left the girl wh ose youth and innocence he had seduced, in a situation of the utmost distress, w ith no creditable home, no help, no friends, ignorant of his address! He had lef t her, promising to return; he neither returned, nor wrote, nor relieved her."

"This is beyond every thing!" exclaimed Elinor. "His character is now before you; expensive, dissipated, and worse than both. K nowing all this, as I have now known it many weeks, guess what I must have felt on seeing your sister as fond of him as ever, and on being assured that she was to marry him: guess what I must have felt for all your sakes. When I came to you last week and found you alone, I came determined to know the truth; though irre solute what to do when it WAS known. My behaviour must have seemed strange to yo u then; but now you will comprehend it. To suffer you all to be so deceived; to see your sister--but what could I do? I had no hope of interfering with success; and sometimes I thought your sister's influence might yet reclaim him. But now, after such dishonorable usage, who can tell what were his designs on her. Whate ver they may have been, however, she may now, and hereafter doubtless WILL turn with gratitude towards her own condition, when she compares it with that of my p oor Eliza, when she considers the wretched and hopeless situation of this poor g irl, and pictures her to herself, with an affection for him so strong, still as strong as her own, and with a mind tormented by self-reproach, which must attend her through life. Surely this comparison must have its use with her. She will f eel her own sufferings to be nothing. They proceed from no misconduct, and can b ring no disgrace. On the contrary, every friend must be made still more her frie nd by them. Concern for her unhappiness, and respect for her fortitude under it, must strengthen every attachment. Use your own discretion, however, in communic ating to her what I have told you. You must know best what will be its effect; b ut had I not seriously, and from my heart believed it might be of service, might lessen her regrets, I would not have suffered myself to trouble you with this a ccount of my family afflictions, with a recital which may seem to have been inte nded to raise myself at the expense of others." Elinor's thanks followed this speech with grateful earnestness; attended too wi th the assurance of her expecting material advantage to Marianne, from the commu nication of what had passed. "I have been more pained," said she, "by her endeavors to acquit him than by al l the rest; for it irritates her mind more than the most perfect conviction of h is unworthiness can do. Now, though at first she will suffer much, I am sure she will soon become easier. Have you," she continued, after a short silence, "ever seen Mr. Willoughby since you left him at Barton?" "Yes," he replied gravely, "once I have. One meeting was unavoidable." Elinor, startled by his manner, looked at him anxiously, saying, "What? have you met him to--" "I could meet him no other way. Eliza had confessed to me, though most reluctan tly, the name of her lover; and when he returned to town, which was within a for tnight after myself, we met by appointment, he to defend, I to punish his conduc t. We returned unwounded, and the meeting, therefore, never got abroad." Elinor sighed over the fancied necessity of this; but to a man and a soldier sh e presumed not to censure it. "Such," said Colonel Brandon, after a pause, "has been the unhappy resemblance between the fate of mother and daughter! and so imperfectly have I discharged my trust!" "Is she still in town?" "No; as soon as she recovered from her lying-in, for I found her near her deliv

ery, I removed her and her child into the country, and there she remains." Recollecting, soon afterwards, that he was probably dividing Elinor from her si ster, he put an end to his visit, receiving from her again the same grateful ack nowledgments, and leaving her full of compassion and esteem for him. CHAPTER 32 When the particulars of this conversation were repeated by Miss Dashwood to her sister, as they very soon were, the effect on her was not entirely such as the former had hoped to see. Not that Marianne appeared to distrust the truth of any part of it, for she listened to it all with the most steady and submissive atte ntion, made neither objection nor remark, attempted no vindication of Willoughby , and seemed to shew by her tears that she felt it to be impossible. But though this behaviour assured Elinor that the conviction of this guilt WAS carried home to her mind, though she saw with satisfaction the effect of it, in her no longe r avoiding Colonel Brandon when he called, in her speaking to him, even voluntar ily speaking, with a kind of compassionate respect, and though she saw her spiri ts less violently irritated than before, she did not see her less wretched. Her mind did become settled, but it was settled in a gloomy dejection. She felt the loss of Willoughby's character yet more heavily than she had felt the loss of hi s heart; his seduction and desertion of Miss Williams, the misery of that poor g irl, and the doubt of what his designs might ONCE have been on herself, preyed a ltogether so much on her spirits, that she could not bring herself to speak of w hat she felt even to Elinor; and, brooding over her sorrows in silence, gave mor e pain to her sister than could have been communicated by the most open and most frequent confession of them. To give the feelings or the language of Mrs. Dashwood on receiving and answerin g Elinor's letter would be only to give a repetition of what her daughters had a lready felt and said; of a disappointment hardly less painful than Marianne's, a nd an indignation even greater than Elinor's. Long letters from her, quickly suc ceeding each other, arrived to tell all that she suffered and thought; to expres s her anxious solicitude for Marianne, and entreat she would bear up with fortit ude under this misfortune. Bad indeed must the nature of Marianne's affliction b e, when her mother could talk of fortitude! mortifying and humiliating must be t he origin of those regrets, which SHE could wish her not to indulge! Against the interest of her own individual comfort, Mrs. Dashwood had determine d that it would be better for Marianne to be any where, at that time, than at Ba rton, where every thing within her view would be bringing back the past in the s trongest and most afflicting manner, by constantly placing Willoughby before her , such as she had always seen him there. She recommended it to her daughters, th erefore, by all means not to shorten their visit to Mrs. Jennings; the length of which, though never exactly fixed, had been expected by all to comprise at leas t five or six weeks. A variety of occupations, of objects, and of company, which could not be procured at Barton, would be inevitable there, and might yet, she hoped, cheat Marianne, at times, into some interest beyond herself, and even int o some amusement, much as the ideas of both might now be spurned by her. From all danger of seeing Willoughby again, her mother considered her to be at least equally safe in town as in the country, since his acquaintance must now be dropped by all who called themselves her friends. Design could never bring them in each other's way: negligence could never leave them exposed to a surprise; a nd chance had less in its favour in the crowd of London than even in the retirem ent of Barton, where it might force him before her while paying that visit at Al lenham on his marriage, which Mrs. Dashwood, from foreseeing at first as a proba ble event, had brought herself to expect as a certain one. She had yet another reason for wishing her children to remain where they were;

on the other hand. Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about once every day. and they were kept watching for two hours together. was equally angry. nor even Mrs. comforted herself by t hinking. she hated him so much that she was resolved never to mention his name again. oppressed as they often were by the clamorous kindness of the others. but that was impossible. though she felt it to be entirely wrong. "A man of whom he had always had such reason to think well! Such a good-natured fellow! He did not believe there was a bolder rider in England! It was an unaccountable business. and she submitted t o it therefore without opposition. or any anxiety for her sister's health. not if it were to be by the side of Bart on covert. and she should tell everybody she saw. Every qualification is raised at times. Sir John. Palmer. it would be better for Marianne than an immediate return into Devonsh ire. suspecting th at it would not be in her power to avoid Edward entirely. formed on mi staken grounds. meet him where he might. Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever hearing Willoughby's name ment ioned. how good-for-nothing he was. He would not speak another word to him. in her way.a letter from her son-in-law had told her that he and his wife were to be in tow n before the middle of February. the personal sympat hy of her mother. But it was a matter of great consolation to her. Jennings. that though their longer stay would therefore militate against her own happiness. He wished him a t the devil with all his heart. and doomed her to such society and such scenes as must prevent her ever knowing a moment's rest. She wished with all her heart Combe Magna was not so near C leveland. Elinor wished that the same forbearance could have extended towards herself. for neither Mrs. for all the world! No. and that by requiring her longer continuance in London it depriv ed her of the only possible alleviation of her wretchedness. for it was a great deal too far off to visit. particulars i Elinor. Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother's opinion. though without knowing it herself. was not thrown away. She c by what paint Grey's clothe The calm and polite unconcern of Lady Middleton on the occasion was a happy rel ief to Elinor's spirits. and she judged it right that they should someti mes see their brother. or twice . Palmer herself. Such a scoundrel of a fellow! such a deceitful dog! It was only the last time they met that he ha d offered him one of Folly's puppies! and this was the end of it!" Mrs. Marianne. and she was oblige d to listen day after day to the indignation of them all. It was a great comfort to her to be sure of exciting no interest in ONE person at least among their circle of friends: a great comfort to know th at there was ONE who would meet her without feeling any curiosity after particul ars. and communicating them to ould soon tell at what coachmaker's the new carriage was building. ever spoke of him before her. and she was very thankful that she had never been acquain ted with him at all. Palmer's sympathy was shewn in procuring all the n her power of the approaching marriage. though it proved perfectly different from wha t she wished and expected. and she was sometimes worried down by officious condol ence to rate good-breeding as more indispensable to comfort than good-nature. Willoughby's portrait was drawn. that what brought evil to hers elf would bring good to her sister. nor Sir John. but it did not signify. could not have thought it possible. and at what warehouse Miss s might be seen. to more than its real value. "She was determined to drop his acq uaintance immediately. reaped all its advantage. by the circumstances of the moment." The rest of Mrs. er Mr. and Elinor.

the canal. to leave her card with her as soon as she married. and THESE gave Elinor hopes of its be ing farther augmented hereafter. "I should have been quite disappointed if I had not found you here STILL. which she saw her eagerly ex amining every morning. would all be made over to HER. as she was desirous that Marianne should not rec eive the first notice of it from the public papers. and Mrs. Colonel Brandon's delicate. She h ad taken care to have the intelligence conveyed to herself. at the end of two days. nor commission her to make it for him. within a fortnight from the receipt of Willoughby's letter. or could oblige herself to speak to him. His chief reward for the pai nful exertion of disclosing past sorrows and present humiliations. unobtrusive enquiries were never unwelcome to Miss Dashwood. as soon as it was kn own that the ceremony was over. Holburn." said she repeatedly. was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne sometimes observed him. presented themselves again before their more gra nd relations in Conduit and Berkeley Streets. Jennings. that you would most likely change your mind when it came to the point . and Elinor now hoped. to prevail on her siste yet left the house since the blow first fell. and therefore determined (though rather against the opinion of Sir Joh n) that as Mrs. I was almost sure you would not leave London yet awhile. But I thought. Their presence always gave her pain. "It is very shocking. but after a short time they would burst out. who had never y degrees as she left town as soon as they were married. lately arrived at their cousin's house in Bartlett's Buildings. she thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of her own as semblies. and that she could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself. who knew nothing of all this . and a t first shed no tears. and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of L ucy in finding her STILL in town. by the friendly zeal with which he had endeavoured to so ften it. began. He had abundantly earned the privilege of intimate discussion of her s ister's disappointment. Early in February. and the gentleness o f her voice whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged. Ferrars. was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods from the first without the smallest emotion. and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality. the y would not be married till Michaelmas. and spoken her decided censure of what was wrong in t he other. and having thus supported t he dignity of her own sex. made no observation on it. The Willoughbys s there could be r. and by the end of a week that it would n ot be a match at all. to think that. by saying. indeed!" and by the means of this continual though gentle vent. but Mrs. with a strong emphasis on the word. About this time the two Miss Steeles. but very soon to see them without recollecting a word of the matter. though you TOLD me . if the subject occurred very often. Elinor only was sorry to see them. a no danger of her seeing either of them. "But I always thought I SHO ULD. THESE assured him that his exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself. she was in a state hardly less pitiable than when she first lea rnt to expect the event. you know. to go out again b had done before. Elinor had the painful office of informing her sister that he was married. at the time. She received the news with resolute composure.. who knew only that the Colonel continued as grave as ever. Jennings had. for some time ceased to think at all of Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of elegance and fortune. an d the yew arbour. instead of Midsummer. at Barton. and for the rest of the day. The good understanding between the Colonel and Miss Dashwo od seemed rather to declare that the honours of the mulberry-tree. and they always conversed with confidence. that you should not stay above a MONTH.

' my cousin said t'other da y. "What a charming thing it is that Mrs.." "No. affectedly simpering. And now to be sure you will be in no hurry to be gone. with quick exultation. and so we thought we'd join him in a post-chaise. Jennings. " we came post all the way. "I am sorry she is not well--" for Marianne had left the room on their arrival. My beau. whic h make her unfit for company or conversation. "and how did you travel?" "Not in the stage. but she has been very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches. to the charge. Miss Dashwood. their visit is but just begun!" Lucy was silenced. "and I beg you wil l contradict it. and paid ten or twelve shillings more than we did. indeed!" replied her cousin." "Oh." "There now. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she certainly wou ld NOT." Mrs. "very pretty. 'Lord! here comes your beau. "No. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the pleasure of see ing you. Nancy. indeed!" interposed Mrs. Davies was coming to town. indeed! said I--I cannot think who you mean. My cousins say they are sure I have m ade a conquest. returning." Elinor perfectly understood her. "Well. I dare say you will. I am amazin gly glad you did not keep to YOUR WORD. I assure you." "Oh. my dear. I see. and was forced to use all her self-command to make it appear that she did NOT. "I am sorry we cannot see your sister. that is very pretty talking--but it won't do--the Doctor is the man. and had a very smart beau to attend us. Jennings. "I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister. and I cannot think why." said Mrs. aye. I do not think we shall." said Lucy." "Oh. "You are very good." said Miss Steele. and I am sure we would not speak a word. I warrant you. It would have been such a great pity to have went away before your brother and sister came. The Doctor is no beau of mine. oh!" cried Mrs. after a cessation of hostile hints." "Aye. Miss Dashwood. and Miss Steele was made completely happy." replied Miss Steele." . wh en they come to town. Jennings. when she saw him crossing the street to the house. and he behave d very genteelly. if you ever hear it talked of. Dashwood can spare you both for so long a time together!" "Long a time." Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition. but for my part I declare I never think about him from one hour' s end to another. yes. dear. Dr. with affected earnestness. that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and me!--I think she might see US. indeed! and the Doctor is a single man. "everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor. "Why." said Miss Steele.

Gray's shop. as in her own bedroom. though adorned in the first style of fashion. and bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashw oods. and be as ignorant of what was p assing around her. a kind of notice which served to imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face. but such a one as seemed rather to demand than express admiration. in Mr. Jennings one morning for half an hour. and ornaments wer e determined. All that could be done was. one gentleman only was standing there. and it is probable that Elinor was not without hope of exci ting his politeness to a quicker despatch. o n this impertinent examination of their features. when another gentleman presented himself at her side. and till its size. John Dashwood was really far from being sorry . by remaining unconscious of it all. and on the puppyism of his man ner in deciding on all the different horrors of the different toothpick-cases pr esented to his inspection. were finally arranged by his own invent ive fancy. or in her dressing gown. and found him with some surprise to be her brother. Jennings recollected that there was a lady at the other end of the street on whom she ought to call. w as of advantage in governing those of the other. all receiv ed their appointment. by Lucy's sharp reprimand. CHAPTER 33 After some opposition. Marianne was spared from the troublesome feelings of contempt and resentment. and t hey were obliged to wait. But the correctness of his eye. but she was sav ed the trouble of checking it. sterling insignificance. for she was as we ll able to collect her thoughts within herself. if that's all. and therefore not able to come to t hem.Elinor. though it did not give much sweetness to the manners of one sister. "Oh. and the gentleman having named the last day on which his e xistence could be continued without the possession of the toothpick-case. Marianne yielded to her sister's entreaties. as on many occasions. that there was not a person at liberty to tend to their orders. When they stopped at the door. the gold. to sit down at that end of the counter which seemed to promise the quickest succession. She turned her e yes towards his face. the Miss Dashwoods found so many people before them in the room. and would do no more than accomp any them to Gray's in Sackville Street. Gray's shop. which now. On ascending the stairs." Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper. and as she had no busi ness at Gray's. Her sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed. na tural. he had no leisure to bestow any other attention on the two ladies. and the pearls. shape. with great civility. declined the proposal. walked off with a happy air of real conceit and affected indifference. "we can just as well go and see HER. where Elinor was carrying on a negotiati on for the exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of her mother. and t he delicacy of his taste. however. th an what was comprised in three or four very broad stares. Their affection and pleasure in meeting was just enough to make a very creditab le appearance in Mr. all of which. drew o n his gloves with leisurely care. was on the point of concl uding it." cried Miss Steele. it was resolved. after examining and debating for a quarter of an hou r over every toothpick-case in the shop. proved to be beyond his politeness. He was giving orde rs for a toothpick-case for himself. Elinor lost no time in bringing her business forward. that while her young friends transacted their's . and consent ed to go out with her and Mrs. At last the affair was decided. The ivory. she should pay her visit and return for them. for paying no visits. She expres sly conditioned. of strong. Mrs.

His manners to THEM. they are people of large fortune. "but it was impossibl e. is more than I can express." "Excellent indeed. for we were obliged to take Harry to see the wild beasts at Exeter see his sisters again. he asked Elinor to walk with him to Condu it Street. and she readily consented. and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs. Elinor. Jennings's servant. he eyed him with a curiosity which seemed to s ay. He came with a pretence at an apology from their siste r-in-law." "I am glad of it. TH IS morning I had fully intended to call on you. was introduced to Mrs. that ever was. most attentively civil. and bring her sisters to see her." Mrs. After staying with them half an hour. and you all seemed to enjoy it beyond any thing. and eve ry civility and accommodation that can serve to make your situation pleasant mig ht be reasonably expected. I am come here to bespeak Fanny a seal. it rather gave them satisfaction. As my mother-in-law's relations. their friendliness in every particular. Jennings. that he only wanted to know him to be rich. and repeating his hope of being able to call on them the n ext day." "Me. Their attention to our comfort. extremely glad indeed. Jennings at the door of her carriage. I understan d. that really she had no leisure for going any where. upon my word. he has very good property in Dorsetshire. I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment in life. Mr. by the arrival of Mrs. Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town two days. to Mrs. He seems a most gentlemanlike man. John Dashwood ver y soon. however." "I am extremely glad to hear it. and was not sorry to be spared the necessity of answering him. took leave. "Who is Colonel Brandon? Is he a man of fortune?" "Yes. to be equally civil to HIM." Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother. and on Colonel Brando n's coming in soon after himself. were perfectly kind. "I wished very much to call upon you yesterday. brother! what do you mean?" . They are excellent neighbours to you in the country. "but she was so much engaged with her mother. I under stand she is a woman of very good fortune. they are related to you. but one has always so much to do on first coming to town. As soon as they were out of the house. And so you are most comfortably settled in your littl e cottage and want for nothing! Edward brought us a most charming account of the place: the most complete thing of its kind. and she should certainly wait on Mrs. Jennings. Ferrars. he said. I shall be happy to show them every respect. and I think. who came to tell her that his mistress waited for them at the door. But tomorrow I think I shall certainly be able to call in Berkeley Street. But so it ought to be. if I could possibly find a spare half hour. Jennings. Dashwood attended them down stairs. Harry was vastly pleased. his enquiries began. for they were all cousin s. His visit was duly paid. The weather was rem arkably fine." said he. And the Middletons too. and his inquiries af ter their mother were respectful and attentive. I assure you. though calm. or something like it. It was a great satisfaction to us to hear it. and introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton. for not coming too. you must intr oduce me to THEM. that she should not stand upon ceremony. assured him directly. and be introduced to your friend Mrs.

you know as to an attachment of that kind. and I have not a doubt of its taking place in time. and she forced herself to say. "It would be something remarkable." "Indeed I believe you. Elinor. and no civility shall be want ing on my part to make him pleased with you and your family. the objections are insurmountable--you have too much sense not to see all that." Recollecting himself. she put bank-notes into Fanny's hands to the amount of two hundred pounds. "That is. his friends may all advise him agains t it." "Not so large. East Kingham Farm. h owever. you . I observed him narrowly. Fanny particularly. but there is such a thing in agitation. for we must live at a great expense while we are here. Mrs. in spite of himself. But some of those little attentions and encouragements which ladies can so easily give will fix him. Edward Ferrars. He has a m ost excellent mother. I dare say. you are very much mistaken. Ferrars has a noble spirit. In short. Perhaps just at present he may be undecided. I mean to say--your friend s are all truly anxious to see you well settled." Elinor would not vouchsafe any answer. and am convinced of it. as many people suppose. A thousand a-year is a great deal for a mother to give aw ay. now carrying on." He paused for her assent and compassion. And her mother too. I am sure it would give her great pleasure. The enclosure of Norland Common. it is undoubtedly a comfortable one. fo r your sake. A very little trouble on your side secures him. It is a match that must give universal satisfaction. Colonel Brandon must be the man. I wish with all my heart it were TWICE as much. awar e that money could not be very plenty with us just now. Ferrar s. for she has your interest very much at heart. I assure you. but you r income is a large one. The lady is th e Hon. I do not mean to complain. Ferrars. as soon as we came to town. it is a kind of thing that"--lowerin g his voice to an important whisper--"will be exceedingly welcome to ALL PARTIES . but Mrs. if the match takes place." and then working himself up to a pitch of enthusiastic g enerosity." "Two thousand a-year. now. "but I am very sure that Colonel Brando n has not the smallest wish of marrying ME. And there can be no reason why y ou should not try for him." replied Elinor." "Is Mr. And extremely acceptable it i s. and settle on him a thousand a year. It is not to be supposed that any prior attachment on your side--in short. is a most serious drain. the smallne ss of your fortune may make him hang back. What is the amo unt of his fortune?" "I believe about two thousand a year. Miss Morton. And t hen I have made a little purchase within this half year. with thirty thousand pounds. he added. And yet it is not very unlikely. only daughter of the late Lord Morton. however. will come forwar d." he continued." "You are mistaken."He likes you. she sa id as much the other day. Mrs. "going to be married?" "It is not actually settled." said Elinor. with resolution. "Elinor. if Fan ny should have a brother and I a sister settling at the same time. "Your expenses both in town and country must certainly be considerable. he added. to make over for ever. with the utmost liberality. a very good-natured woman. A very desirable connection on both sides. "something droll. and I hope will in time be better. it is quite out of the question. To give you anot her instance of her liberality:--The other day.

must remember the place, where old Gibson used to live. The land was so very des irable for me in every respect, so immediately adjoining my own property, that I felt it my duty to buy it. I could not have answered it to my conscience to let it fall into any other hands. A man must pay for his convenience; and it HAS co st me a vast deal of money." "More than you think it really and intrinsically worth." "Why, I hope not that. I might have sold it again, the next day, for more than I gave: but, with regard to the purchase-money, I might have been very unfortuna te indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low, that if I had not happened t o have the necessary sum in my banker's hands, I must have sold out to very grea t loss." Elinor could only smile. "Other great and inevitable expenses too we have had on first coming to Norland . Our respected father, as you well know, bequeathed all the Stanhill effects th at remained at Norland (and very valuable they were) to your mother. Far be it f rom me to repine at his doing so; he had an undoubted right to dispose of his ow n property as he chose, but, in consequence of it, we have been obliged to make large purchases of linen, china, &c. to supply the place of what was taken away. You may guess, after all these expenses, how very far we must be from being ric h, and how acceptable Mrs. Ferrars's kindness is." "Certainly," said Elinor; "and assisted by her liberality, I hope you may yet l ive to be in easy circumstances." "Another year or two may do much towards it," he gravely replied; "but however there is still a great deal to be done. There is not a stone laid of Fanny's gre en-house, and nothing but the plan of the flower-garden marked out." "Where is the green-house to be?" "Upon the knoll behind the house. The old walnut trees are all come down to mak e room for it. It will be a very fine object from many parts of the park, and th e flower-garden will slope down just before it, and be exceedingly pretty. We ha ve cleared away all the old thorns that grew in patches over the brow." Elinor kept her concern and her censure to herself; and was very thankful that Marianne was not present, to share the provocation. Having now said enough to make his poverty clear, and to do away the necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings for each of his sisters, in his next visit at Gray 's his thoughts took a cheerfuller turn, and he began to congratulate Elinor on having such a friend as Mrs. Jennings. "She seems a most valuable woman indeed--Her house, her style of living, all be speak an exceeding good income; and it is an acquaintance that has not only been of great use to you hitherto, but in the end may prove materially advantageous. --Her inviting you to town is certainly a vast thing in your favour; and indeed, it speaks altogether so great a regard for you, that in all probability when sh e dies you will not be forgotten.-- She must have a great deal to leave." "Nothing at all, I should rather suppose; for she has only her jointure, which will descend to her children." "But it is not to be imagined that she lives up to her income. Few people of co mmon prudence will do THAT; and whatever she saves, she will be able to dispose of."

"And do you not think it more likely that she should leave it to her daughters, than to us?" "Her daughters are both exceedingly well married, and therefore I cannot percei ve the necessity of her remembering them farther. Whereas, in my opinion, by her taking so much notice of you, and treating you in this kind of way, she has giv en you a sort of claim on her future consideration, which a conscientious woman would not disregard. Nothing can be kinder than her behaviour; and she can hardl y do all this, without being aware of the expectation it raises." "But she raises none in those most concerned. Indeed, brother, your anxiety for our welfare and prosperity carries you too far." "Why, to be sure," said he, seeming to recollect himself, "people have little, have very little in their power. But, my dear Elinor, what is the matter with Ma rianne?-- she looks very unwell, has lost her colour, and is grown quite thin. I s she ill?" "She is not well, she has had a nervous complaint on her for several weeks." "I am sorry for that. At her time of life, any thing of an illness destroys the bloom for ever! Hers has been a very short one! She was as handsome a girl last September, as I ever saw; and as likely to attract the man. There was something in her style of beauty, to please them particularly. I remember Fanny used to s ay that she would marry sooner and better than you did; not but what she is exce edingly fond of YOU, but so it happened to strike her. She will be mistaken, how ever. I question whether Marianne NOW, will marry a man worth more than five or six hundred a-year, at the utmost, and I am very much deceived if YOU do not do better. Dorsetshire! I know very little of Dorsetshire; but, my dear Elinor, I s hall be exceedingly glad to know more of it; and I think I can answer for your h aving Fanny and myself among the earliest and best pleased of your visitors." Elinor tried very seriously to convince him that there was no likelihood of her marrying Colonel Brandon; but it was an expectation of too much pleasure to him self to be relinquished, and he was really resolved on seeking an intimacy with that gentleman, and promoting the marriage by every possible attention. He had j ust compunction enough for having done nothing for his sisters himself, to be ex ceedingly anxious that everybody else should do a great deal; and an offer from Colonel Brandon, or a legacy from Mrs. Jennings, was the easiest means of atonin g for his own neglect. They were lucky enough to find Lady Middleton at home, and Sir John came in bef ore their visit ended. Abundance of civilities passed on all sides. Sir John was ready to like anybody, and though Mr. Dashwood did not seem to know much about horses, he soon set him down as a very good-natured fellow: while Lady Middleton saw enough of fashion in his appearance to think his acquaintance worth having; and Mr. Dashwood went away delighted with both. "I shall have a charming account to carry to Fanny," said he, as he walked back with his sister. "Lady Middleton is really a most elegant woman! Such a woman a s I am sure Fanny will be glad to know. And Mrs. Jennings too, an exceedingly we ll-behaved woman, though not so elegant as her daughter. Your sister need not ha ve any scruple even of visiting HER, which, to say the truth, has been a little the case, and very naturally; for we only knew that Mrs. Jennings was the widow of a man who had got all his money in a low way; and Fanny and Mrs. Ferrars were both strongly prepossessed, that neither she nor her daughters were such kind o f women as Fanny would like to associate with. But now I can carry her a most sa tisfactory account of both."

CHAPTER 34 Mrs. John Dashwood had so much confidence in her husband's judgment, that she w aited the very next day both on Mrs. Jennings and her daughter; and her confiden ce was rewarded by finding even the former, even the woman with whom her sisters were staying, by no means unworthy her notice; and as for Lady Middleton, she f ound her one of the most charming women in the world! Lady Middleton was equally pleased with Mrs. Dashwood. There was a kind of cold hearted selfishness on both sides, which mutually attracted them; and they symp athised with each other in an insipid propriety of demeanor, and a general want of understanding. The same manners, however, which recommended Mrs. John Dashwood to the good opi nion of Lady Middleton did not suit the fancy of Mrs. Jennings, and to HER she a ppeared nothing more than a little proud-looking woman of uncordial address, who met her husband's sisters without any affection, and almost without having anyt hing to say to them; for of the quarter of an hour bestowed on Berkeley Street, she sat at least seven minutes and a half in silence. Elinor wanted very much to know, though she did not chuse to ask, whether Edwar d was then in town; but nothing would have induced Fanny voluntarily to mention his name before her, till able to tell her that his marriage with Miss Morton wa s resolved on, or till her husband's expectations on Colonel Brandon were answer ed; because she believed them still so very much attached to each other, that th ey could not be too sedulously divided in word and deed on every occasion. The i ntelligence however, which SHE would not give, soon flowed from another quarter. Lucy came very shortly to claim Elinor's compassion on being unable to see Edwa rd, though he had arrived in town with Mr. and Mrs. Dashwood. He dared not come to Bartlett's Buildings for fear of detection, and though their mutual impatienc e to meet, was not to be told, they could do nothing at present but write. Edward assured them himself of his being in town, within a very short time, by twice calling in Berkeley Street. Twice was his card found on the table, when th ey returned from their morning's engagements. Elinor was pleased that he had cal led; and still more pleased that she had missed him. The Dashwoods were so prodigiously delighted with the Middletons, that, though not much in the habit of giving anything, they determined to give them--a dinner ; and soon after their acquaintance began, invited them to dine in Harley Street , where they had taken a very good house for three months. Their sisters and Mrs . Jennings were invited likewise, and John Dashwood was careful to secure Colone l Brandon, who, always glad to be where the Miss Dashwoods were, received his ea ger civilities with some surprise, but much more pleasure. They were to meet Mrs . Ferrars; but Elinor could not learn whether her sons were to be of the party. The expectation of seeing HER, however, was enough to make her interested in the engagement; for though she could now meet Edward's mother without that strong a nxiety which had once promised to attend such an introduction, though she could now see her with perfect indifference as to her opinion of herself, her desire o f being in company with Mrs. Ferrars, her curiosity to know what she was like, w as as lively as ever. The interest with which she thus anticipated the party, was soon afterwards inc reased, more powerfully than pleasantly, by her hearing that the Miss Steeles we re also to be at it. So well had they recommended themselves to Lady Middleton, so agreeable had the ir assiduities made them to her, that though Lucy was certainly not so elegant, and her sister not even genteel, she was as ready as Sir John to ask them to spe nd a week or two in Conduit Street; and it happened to be particularly convenien

and her features small. for. Mrs. dear Miss Dashwood!" said Lucy. to have a nearer view of their characters and her own difficulties. upright. by giving it the strong characters of pride and ill nature. They were relieved however. who had comparatively no power to wound them. but it was not in Mrs. that thei r visit should begin a few days before the party took place. hoped at least to be an object of irrepressible envy to Elinor. The important Tuesday came that was to introduce the two young ladies to this f ormidable mother-in-law. not by her own recollection. rather than her own. only amused her. in the company of Lucy!--she hardly knew how she could bear it! These apprehensions. though really uncomfortabl e herself. as soon as the Dashwoods' invitation was known. had th ey known as much as she did. towards procuring them seats at her table.--and the difference of her manners to the Miss Steeles. than she was on receiving Mrs. to a party given by his sister. which he could not conceal when they were together. and Lucy. She began immediately to determine. John Dashwood. even to sourness. and certainl y not at all on truth. after all that passed.--I declare I can hardly stand. thin woman. Elinor could not NOW be made unhappy by this behaviour. must be asked as his mother was. Ferrars was a little. and even hoped to be carrying the pain still farther by persuading her that he was kept away by the extreme affection for herself.t to the Miss Steeles. On Elinor its effect was very different. whom she eyed with the spirited determination o f disliking her at all events. she could not reflect on the mean-spirited folly from which it sprung. and naturally without expression. who believed herself to be inflicting a severe dis appointment when she told her that Edward certainly would not be in Harley Stree t on Tuesday. She was not a woman of many words. but instead of doing that. but a luck y contraction of the brow had rescued her countenance from the disgrace of insip idity. th at Edward who lived with his mother. and serious. that s he did pity her--to the utter amazement of Lucy. that they all foll owed the servant at the same time--"There is nobody here but you. unlike people in general.A few months ago it w ould have hurt her exceedingly. and to see him for the first time. and to have an opportunity of endeavouring to please them. even to formality. however. had seldom been happ ier in her life. while she herself. Ferrars' power to distres s her by it now. John Dashwood's card. sat pointedly slight ed by both. that can feel for me. in her figur e. in her aspect. without beauty. Her complexion was sallow. and of the few syllables that did escape her. not one fel l to the share of Miss Dashwood. but by the good will of Lucy. but as Lady Middleton's gues ts they must be welcome. Good gracious!--In a moment I shall see t he person that all my happiness depends on--that is to be my mother!"-Elinor could have given her immediate relief by suggesting the possibility of i ts being Miss Morton's mother. who.for Lucy was particularly distinguished--whom of all others. without thoroug . She could not but smile to see the graciousness of both mother and daughter towards the v ery person-. might not have done much. "Pity me. as the nieces of the gentlema n who for many years had had the care of her brother. and with great sincerity. she assured her. a diffe rence which seemed purposely made to humble her more.-. nor observe the studied attentions with which the Miss Steeles courted its continuance. Their claims to the notice of Mrs. she proportioned them to th e number of her ideas. were not founded entirely on reason. as they walked up the stairs together --for the Middletons arrived so directly after Mrs. who had long wanted to be personally known to the family. whom they were about to beho ld. But while she smiled at a graciousness so misapplied. they would have been most anxious to mortify. Jennings. perhaps.

did not see the necessity of enforcing it by any farther assertion. In spite of the improvements and additions which were making to the Norland estate . either natural or improved--wan t of elegance--want of spirits--or want of temper. and in spite of its owner having once been within some thousand pounds of bein g obliged to sell out at a loss. were officiously handed by him to Colonel Brandon for his admiration. though each really convinced that her own son was the tallest. The dinner was a grand one. and Marianne. Before her removing from Norland. for the gentlemen HAD supplied the discourse with some variet y--the variety of politics. except of conversation . as she had never thought abou t it. Lucy was all exultation on being so honorably distinguished. and Lady Middleton's second son Wil liam. and the Master's ability to support it. catching the eye of John Dashw ood on his following the other gentlemen into the room. Elinor had painted a very pretty pair of scre ens for her sister-in-law. when called on for hers. who were nearly of the same age.--no poverty of any kind. but as Harry only was present. and to repeat it over and over again as often as they liked. offended them all. and one subject only engaged the ladies till coffee came in. Ferrars and Fanny still more. inclosing land. the servants were numerous. with yet greater address gave it. by which she offen ded Mrs. but more sincerity. and Miss Steele. but she is in general reckoned to draw extremely well. and breaking horses--but then it was all over. The two grandmothers. who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqu alifications for being agreeable--Want of sense. with not less partiality. who was hardly less anxious to please one parent than the other. were equall y earnest in support of their own descendant. as fast as she could. Lucy. and could not conceive that th ere could be the smallest difference in the world between them. in favour of each. by declaring that she had no opinion to give." . wil l. which being now just mounted and brought home. John Dashwood had not mu ch to say for himself that was worth hearing. orname nted her present drawing room. which wa s the comparative heights of Harry Dashwood. I do not know whether you have ever happene d to see any of her performances before. for it was very much the case with the ch ief of their visitors. But t here was no peculiar disgrace in this. "These are done by my eldest sister. the affair might have been determined too eas ily by measuring them at once.hly despising them all four. When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room after dinner. Had both the children been there. be pleased with them. and every thing bespoke the Mistress's inclination for show. "and you. and Miss Steele wa nted only to be teazed about Dr. nothing gave any symptom of that indigence whic h he had tried to infer from it. the deficiency was considerable. and his wife had still less. Davies to be perfectly happy. I dare say. thought the boys were both remarkably tall for their age. Elinor. it was all conject ural assertion on both sides. politely decided in favour of the other. appeared--but there. having once delivered her opinion on William's side. and these screens." said he. and every body had a right to be equally positive in their opinion. this poverty was par ticularly evident. The parties stood thus: The two mothers. as a man of taste.

to her. though disclaiming all pretensions to connoisseurship. or who cares.--Mrs. the affectionate heart which could not bear to see a sister slighted in the smallest point.-for. her spirits were quite overcome. not aware of their being Elinor's work. and o n the curiosity of the others being of course excited. Fanny presented them to her mother. as her own wounded heart taught her to think of with horro r. and after they had received gratifying testi mony of Lady Middletons's approbation. "Do you not think they are something in Miss Morton's style of painting. she immediately said. Ferrars's gen eral behaviour to her sister. probably came over her." immediately gave her her salts. to foretell such difficulties and distresses to Elinor. for she presentl y added. and Sir John felt so desperately enraged agains t the author of this nervous distress. Every body's attention was called. she burst into tears. colouring a little. and her husband was all in a fright at his sister' s audacity. warmly admi red the screens. de clared that he noticed only what was amiable in it. Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother had been quite rude enough.--Colonel Brandon rose up and went to them witho ut knowing what he did. "This is admiration of a very particular kind!--what is Miss Morton to us?--who knows. Ferrars--"very pretty. Mrs. to admire them herself as they ought to be admired. too encouraging herself. part icularly requested to look at them. and drawing herself up more stiffly than ever. they were handed round fo r general inspection. "Miss Morton is Lord Morton's daughter. and one cheek close to hers." She could say no more. at the same time. the dread of having b een too civil. that they were done by Miss Dashwood. she took the screens out of her sister-in-law's hands. "Hum"--said Mrs. Mrs. but Colonel Brandon's eyes.The Colonel. provoked her immediately to say with warmth. dear Elinor. as they were fixed on Marianne. don't mind them. but eager. Ferrars looked exceedingly angry. and putting one arm round her neck. and almost every body was concerned. for her?--it is Elinor of whom WE think and speak. Ma'am? --She DOES paint most delightfully!--How beautifully her last landscape is done! " "Beautifully indeed! But SHE does every thing well. as he would have done any thing painted by Miss Dashwood. and urged by a strong impulse of affectionate sensibility. that he instantly changed his seat to one . ma'am--an't they?" But then again. said in a low. re turned them to her daughter. she moved after a moment. with a very intelligent "Ah! poor dear." And so saying. Fer rars." Marianne could not bear this." Fanny looked very angry too. consi derately informing her. The cold insolence of Mrs."--and without regarding them at all. though she had not any notion of what was principally meant by it. Ferrars. Marianne's feelings did not stop here. Don't let them make YOU unhappy. at Elinor's expense. "Dear. pronounced in retort this bitter philippic. and hiding her face on Elinor's shoulder. seemed.--She was already greatly displeased with Mrs. to her sister's chair. Elinor was much more hurt by Marianne's warmth than she had been by what produced it. and such ill-timed praise of another. "They are very pretty. Jennings. voice.

Palmer soon after she ar rived. for at her particular desire. Now was not it so?-. she had quite took a fancy to me. her meanness.-. a brief account of the whole shocking affair. there was such an affability in her behaviour as really should seem to say. quite as handsome as Elinor."She has not such good health as her sister. In a few minutes.--that her interest and her vanity should so very much blind he r as to make the attention which seemed only paid her because she was NOT ELINOR . however. Ferrars's way of treating me yesterday? So exceeding affable as she was!--You know how I drea ded the thoughts of seeing her." "Civil!--Did you see nothing but only civility?-. and retarded the marriage. Such kindness as fell to the share of nobody but me!--No pride. of Edward and herself. But that it was so. "Poor Marianne!" said her brother to Colonel Brandon. carried Mrs. to comprehend all the difficulties that must have perpl exed the engagement. "My dear friend. The chance proved a lucky one. that one greater obstacle preserved her from suffering under any other of Mr s. "I come to ta lk to you of my happiness. the whole evening.--she has not Elinor's constitution. as soon a s he could secure his attention. and gave her." CHAPTER 35 Elinor's curiosity to see Mrs. she OUGHT to have rejoiced. had he be en otherwise free. or an y solicitude for her good opinion. and was not you quite struck with it?" "She was certainly very civil to you.She had found in her ev ery thing that could tend to make a farther connection between the families unde sirable. if they had known your engagement. Ferrars. if she did not bring herself qui te to rejoice in Edward's being fettered to Lucy.-. and her determined pr ejudice against herself.close by Lucy Steele. She wondered that Lucy's spirits could be so very much elevated by the civility of Mrs.-.You saw it all. had not only been declared by Lucy's eyes at the time.--and she had seen almost enough to be thankful for her OWN sa ke.I saw a vast deal more. preserved her from all dependence upon her caprice. Marianne was recovered enough to put an end to the b ustle. as soon as they were by themselves.-"Undoubtedly. in a low voice. but was declared over again the next morning more openly. "nothing could be m . and sit down among the rest. that had Lucy been more amiable. You would not think it perhaps. Could anything be so flattering as Mrs. she determined. to t ell her how happy she was." cried Lucy. but Marianne W AS remarkably handsome a few months ago. and your sister just the same--all sweetness and affability!" Elinor wished to talk of something else. and Elinor was obliged to go on. because her real situation was unknown.She had seen enough of her pride. though her spirits retained the impression o f what had passed. in a whisper. Jennings away. appear a compliment to herself--or to allow her to derive encouragement from a preference only given her.--and one must allow th at there is something very trying to a young woman who HAS BEEN a beauty in the loss of her personal attractions. for a message from Mrs. Ferrars's creation.Now you see it is all gone. Ferrars was satisfied. but Lucy still pressed her to own that she had reason for her happiness.-she is very nervous.--but the very moment I was introduced.-. Or at least. Lady Midd leton set her down in Berkeley Street on the chance of seeing Elinor alone. no hauteur." said she.

" "I never was in better health. Ferrars should seem to like me. But Elinor had more to do. for his sake and her own. and so anxious was she. It was not Lucy's business to put herself forward. If she had only made me a formal courtesy. and there will be no difficulties at all. indeed!--I wonder I should never hear you say how agreeable Mrs. I should be sorry to have YOU ill. They all looked exceedingly foolish. It was a very awkward moment. without saying a word.--sure you an't wel l. Ferrars. to what I used to th ink. and next to Edward's lo ve. She could therefore only LOOK her tendernes s. The very circumstance. and her lik ing me is every thing. Dashwood. I dare s ay. for instance. Lucy continued. They are both deli ghtful women." But Elinor would not give her any encouragement to hope that she SHOULD tell he r sister. if Mrs. I should have gave it all up in despair. for Lady Middleton's del ighted with Mrs. "Are you ill. I am sure it w ill all end well. "I am sure I should have seen it in a moment." Elinor was prevented from making any reply to this civil triumph. and never looked at me in a pleasant way--you know what I mean--if I had been treated in that forbidding sor t of way. and Edward seemed to have as great an inc lination to walk out of the room again.--but as that was not the case"-"I guessed you would say so. if she did not. you cannot speak too high. for she directly replied. and Edward's immediate ly walking in. after a moment's recollection.They are such c harming women!--I am sure if ever you tell your sister what I think of her. they should always be glad to see me. Ferrars is a charming woman. which they would each have been most an xious to avoid. said no more. The ladies recovered thems elves first. so we shall be a good deal in Harley Street. Ferrars had took a dislik e to me. and so is your sister. you. and the countenance of each shewed that it was so .--and Mrs. by the door's being thrown open. but were together without the relief of any other person. Lady Middleton and Mrs. to do it well. But it se emed to satisfy Lucy. Miss Dashwood?--you seem low--you don't speak. the servant's announcing Mr.--Poor Edward!--But now there is one good thing. and after slightly addressing him. but really you did not look it.ore flattering than their treatment of you. and Edward spends half his time with his sister--besides. Ferrars will visit now."-Elinor tried to make a civil answer. I know it is most violent. to welcome ." "I am glad of it with all my heart. Fo r where she DOES dislike. You shan't talk me out of my satisfaction. "Indeed I am perfectly convinced of your regard for me.-. and meet pretty often. as to advance farther into it. and the appearan ce of secrecy must still be kept up.--They were not only all three together. that have been the greatest comfort to me in the wo rld!--Heaven knows what I should have done without your friendship. it is the greatest comfort I have. I could not have stood it. and did not attempt any. and never after had took any notice of me. had fallen on them. Ferrars and your sister were both so goo d to say more than once. that she forced herself. in its unpleasantest form."--replied Lucy quickly--"but there was no reason i n the world why Mrs. we shall be able to meet. Mrs. D ashwood was!" To this Elinor had no answer to make. though doubting her own success.

with the most highminded fortitude. When that was once done. and she really did it. Elinor. before she went to her sister. with a look and manner that were almost easy. another effort still improved them. nor to conci liate the good will of Lucy. and almost open. Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward. "we must employ Edward to take care of . She would not be fright ened from paying him those attentions which. "this is a moment of great happiness!--This would alm ost make amends for every thing?" Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved. while Marianne was looking with the most speaking te nderness. nor the consciousness of some injustice towards herself. willing to say any thing that might introduc e another subject. for his he art had not the indifference of Lucy's. for she soon afterwards felt herself so heroic ally disposed as to determine. who was obliged to volunteer all the inform ation about her mother's health. Lucy. though she soon perceived them to b e narrowly watching her. and expres s his fear of her not finding London agree with her. "I think. though his sex might make it rare. and it was to notice Marianne's altered looks. and almost every thing t hat WAS said. regretting only that thei r delight in each other should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome presence. when he called before in Berkeley Street. to deter her fr om saying that she was happy to see him. seemed determined to make no contribution to the comfort of the others. Again they all sat down. don't think of me!" she replied with spirited earnestness. and he had courage enough to sit down. strong in itself. and that she had very much regretted be ing from home. "Oh. "Do you like London?" said Edward. which Edward ought to have inquired about. for Marianne's joy hurried h er into the drawing-room immediately. proceeded from Elinor. Elinor is well. you see. by the observant eyes of Lucy. "don't think of MY health. but never did. to leave the others by themselves. and THAT in the handsomest manner. Edward. She would not allow the presence o f Lucy. but his embarrassment still exceeded that of the ladies in a proportion. is the only comfort it has afforded. but before such witnesses h e dared not say half what he really felt. She met him with a hand that would be taken." she presently added. and would not say a word. and strongly spoken." This remark was not calculated to make Edward or Elinor more easy. it was time for the raptures of Edward to cease. and for a mom ent or two all were silent. their coming to town. I expected much pleasure in it. and thank Heaven! you are wh at you always were!" She paused--no one spoke. The sight o f you. and another struggle. under pretence of fetching Marianne. sometimes at Edward and sometimes at Elinor. were his due. &c. for she loitered away several minutes on the landing-place. and a voice that expressed the affection of a sister. Her exertions did not stop here. "Not at all. Her pleasure in seeing him was like every other of her feelings. who looked up at Marianne with no very benignant ex pression. w hich the case rendered reasonable. howeve r.him. with a demure and settled air. as a friend and almost a relation. That must be enough for us both. but I have found none. "Dear Edward!" she cried. Edward w as the first to speak. though her eyes were filled with tears as she spoke. nor could his conscience have quite the ease of Elinor's.

and soon talked of something el se. who saw his agitation. and. but Marianne seemed entirely insensible of the sting. "You know. "Not so. But Marianne. of any body I ever saw." Poor Edward muttered something. if they have no mind to keep them. and was so very unexhilarating to Edward. howeve r minute. which cannot be said now. Edward will not be very unwilling to accept the charge. that are not really wanted. soon afterwards went away. on her leaving them. was perfectly satisfied. I am very sure that conscience only k ept Edward from Harley Street. I suppose. seriously speaking. "But why were you not there. for he would go. for. "my dear Edward. however. nobody knew. He is the mo st fearful of giving pain. you ought to recollect that I am the last person in the world to do it. "Could not she see that we wanted her gone!--how teazing to Edward!" "Why so?--we were all his friends. for those who will accept of my love and esteem. the most scrupulous in performing every engagement. In a week or two. Edward?--Why did you not come?" "I was engaged elsewhere. Edward. and Luc y. and I will say it. Miss Marianne. as I must suppose to be the case. had his visit lasted two hours. indeed. that this is a ki nd of talking which I cannot bear. and said. and could easily trace it to whatever caus e best pleased herself. not even himself. and Lucy has been the longest known to him o f any. happened to be pa rticularly ill-suited to the feelings of two thirds of her auditors. we shall be going. fo r she calmly replied." And with this admirable discretion did she defer the assurance of her finding t heir mutual relatives more disagreeable than ever. Edward. Elinor." Marianne looked at her in our return to Barton. It is but natural that he should like to see her as well as ourselves. in Harley Street yesterday! So dull. And I really believe he HAS the most delicate con science in the world. she whispered her persuasion that Lucy could no t stay much longer. "We spent such a day. it is so. I trust. this must not be. when such friends were to be met?" "Perhaps. "Going so soon!" said Marianne. If you only hope to have your assertion contr adicted." The nature of her commendation. eager to take some revenge on her. who would have outstaid him. "What can bring her here so often?" said Marianne. little as well as great. and the most incapable of be ing selfish. "you t hink young men never stand upon engagements. and however it may make against his interest or pleasure. so wretchedl y dull!--But I have much to say to you on that head. of wounding expectation. that he very soon got up to go away." cried Lucy. in the present case. I cannot descend to be tricked out of assuran ces. till they were more in private. But even this encouragement failed." And drawing him a little aside." Elinor was very angry." ." "Engaged! But what was that. What! are you never to hear yourself praised!--Then you must be no friend of mine. but what it was. and of her being particularly disgusted with his mother. must submit to my open commendatio n.

she could give no information that would convince Marianne. in a like degree. but THAT did not signify. and did not return till late in the evening. produced a temporary alteration in the disposal of her time. and it was in their pow er to reconcile her to it entirely. Their hours were therefore made over to Lady Middleton and the two Miss Steeles. was that Edward would not often expose her or himself to the distress of heari ng Marianne's mistaken warmth. and the flattery which Lucy was proud to think of and administe r at other times. Willoughby. spent the whole of every day in Conduit Street. she might spend a whole day without hearing any other railler y on the subject. was safely delivered of a son and heir. on having escaped . by whom their company. as intruding on THEIR ground. she fancied them satirical: perhaps without exactly knowing what it was to be sa tirical. Would either of them only have given her a f ull and minute account of the whole affair between Marianne and Mr. that she thought it a delightful thing for the girls to be togethe r. and Elinor dared not follow her to say more. were so totally unsuspected by M rs. but a look of indifference from the f ormer. or of disgust in the latter. Jennings's happiness. in fact was as little valued. which their arrival occasioned. she did not re ally like them at all. than what she was kind enough to bestow on herself. All that she could hope . at the particular r equest of the Middletons. CHAPTER 36 Within a few days after this meeting. and because they were fond of reading. she went thither every morning as soon as she was dressed. she would have thought herself amply rewarded for the sacrifice of the best plac e by the fire after dinner. at least all the morning. at least to all those intimate connect ions who knew it before. but it was not a thing to be urged against the wishes of everybody. and painful as the consequences of her still continuin g in an error might be. the newspapers announced to the world. and by the la tter they were considered with a jealous eye.She then left the room. however. the e ngagements of her young friends. for bound as she was by her promise of secrecy to Lucy. Would they only have laughed at her about the Doctor! But so li ttle were they. Their presence was a restraint both on her and on Lucy. Jennings. th at the lady of Thomas Palmer. and generally congratulated her young friends every night. It checked the idleness of one. and more than once dropt a reflection on the inconstancy of beau x before Marianne. Jennings's house. They had too much sense to be desirable companions to the former. she feared they would despise her for offering. and easily give n. This event. An effort even yet lighter might have made h er their friend. It was censure in common use. and sharing the kindness which they wanted to monopolize. Esq. highly important to Mrs. anymore than the others. for though she often threw out expressions of pity for her si ster to Elinor. a ver y interesting and satisfactory paragraph. she was obliged to submit to it. as it was pr ofessedly sought. and the Miss Dashwoods. in Mrs. that if Sir Joh n dined from home. Though nothing could be mo re polite than Lady Middleton's behaviour to Elinor and Marianne. and influenced. by their presence. she could not believe them good-natured. Miss Steele wa s the least discomposed of the three. no effect was produced. inclined to oblige her. Because they neither flattered herself nor her children. For th eir own comfort they would much rather have remained. But this conciliatio n was not granted. Lady Middleton was ashamed of doing noth ing before them. All these jealousies and discontents. and the business of the other. for as she wished to be as much as possible wit h Charlotte. nor to the repetition of any other part of the pa in that had attended their recent meeting--and this she had every reason to expe ct.

which it rec eived from Miss Steele in the first five minutes of their being together. but. In the present instance. It so happened that while her two sisters with Mrs. how much her washing cost per week. She joined them sometimes at Sir John 's. for after undergoing an examination into the value and make of her gown. so minute a detail of her situation. she always came in excellen t spirits. must always be hers. But that was not enough. attributing Charlotte's well doing to her own care. where it was to take her. The consequence of which was. that it was become a matter of indifference to her. The impertinence of these kind of scrutinies. I come now to the relation of a misfortune. nor could he even be brought to acknowledge the simp le proposition of its being the finest child in the world. and ready to give so exact. was never easy till she knew the price of every part of Marianne's dress. that on merely hearing the name of the Miss Dashwoods. which though me ant as its douceur. which they were ready to enter five minutes after it sto pped at the door. must be subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing to treat them with attention: and who could tell that they might not expect to go out with her a second time? The power of d isappointing them. Nothing escaped HER minute observation and general curiosity. and was not without hopes of finding out before they parted. no persuading him to believe that it was not exactly like every other baby of the same age. she was almost sure of be ing told that upon "her word she looked vastly smart. sh e saw every thing. to her brother's carriage. But whil e the imaginations of other people will carry them away to form wrong judgments of our conduct. one's happiness must in some measure be always at the mercy of chance. and though she coul d plainly perceive. it was true. a nd of that she made her daily complaint. To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly indifferent. there was no convincing hi s father of it. was generally concluded with a compliment. J ohn Dashwood. though without expecting the smallest amusement from any. moreover." With such encouragement as this. cards o f invitation for them as well as for their brother and sister. and asked every thing. and this misconstruction produced within a day or two afterwards. of all infants being alike.the company of a stupid old woman so long. whether she went o r not: and she prepared quietly and mechanically for every evening's engagement. to a small musica l party at her house. but u nfatherly opinion among his sex. the colour of her shoes. was she dismissed on the present occasion. t hey feel injured by the expectation of any thing better from them. as only Miss Steele had curiosity enough to desire. fo r when people are determined on a mode of conduct which they know to be wrong. what was still worse. which about this time befell Mrs. and was there hoping for some . Jennings were first calling on her in Harley Street. during the whole of her toilet. till the last moment. could have guessed the number of her gowns a ltogether with better judgment than Marianne herself. as not to b estow half the consideration on it. another of her acquaintance had dropt in-a circumstance in itself not apparently likely to produce evil to her. and to decide on it by slight appearances. a punctuality not very agreeable to their sister-in-law. at different times. that Mrs. One thing DID disturb her. sometimes at her own house. who h ad preceded them to the house of her acquaintance. and she dared to say she w ould make a great many conquests. she immediately concluded them to be staying in Harley S treet. and how m uch she had every year to spend upon herself. Dashwood's sisters. and the arrangement of her hair. so much into the habit of going out e very day. and understanding them to be Mr. was considered by Marianne as the greatest impertinence of a ll. this last-arrived lady allowed her fancy to so far outrun truth and probability. but wherever it was. John Dashwood was obliged to submit not only to the exceedingly great inconvenience of sending her carriage for the Miss Dashwoods. Palmer maintained the common. Mr. the most striking resemblance between th is baby and every one of his relations on both sides. when i t was finished. and very often withou t knowing. Marianne had now been brought by degrees. full of delight and importance.

the very he. whenever it suited her. when she is grieving about it. as usual. would fix them at pleasure on any other object in the room. because. inste ad of sending him to Mr. the first private performers in England. she did not find that the emptiness of conceit of the one. for. Pratt's family. with any satisfaction. and collect a few f . The party. where I might drive myself down at any time. I think.' I always say to her. 'My dear Madam. The evil is now irremediable. put her out of all charity with the modesty and worth of the other. Why would you be persuaded by my uncle. and so I often tell my mother." he added." Elinor would not oppose his opinion. if I had any mone y to spare. at the most critical ti me of his life? If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself. I should buy a little land and build one myself. in their own estimation. was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man. "I am excessively fond of a cottage. thou gh probably without any particular. and violoncello. comprehended a great many people who had real taste for the perform ance. all this would have been prevented. "I believe it is nothing more. she made no scruple of t urning her eyes from the grand pianoforte. and a great many more who had none at all. when they both came towards her. And I protest. She perceived him soon afterwards looking at herself."--was his next observation. than to the misfortune of a private education. that he was exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy. "For my own part. while he himself. talking of his brother. to place Edward under private tuition. and that of their immediate friends. any material superiority by nature. and lame nting the extreme GAUCHERIE which he really believed kept him from mixing in pro per society. Happy had it been for her. Pratt's. nor affecting to be so. if her regard for Edward had depended less on his own merit. there is alway s so much comfort. so much elegance about them. Sir Robert. He addressed her with easy civility. Robert exclaimed to her himself in the cour se of a quarter of an hour's conversation. against y our own judgment. The events of this evening were not very remarkable. "You reside in Devonshire. merely f rom the advantage of a public school.' This is t he way in which I always consider the matter. and my mother is perfectly convinc ed of her error. he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any natural d eficiency. and s peaking familiarly to her brother. and the performers themselves w ere." Elinor set him right as to its situation. she could not think of Edward's abo de in Mr. 'y ou must make yourself easy. Dashwood introduced hi m to her as Mr. and Mr. "in a cottage n ear Dawlish. But while she wond ered at the difference of the two young men.delay on their part that might inconvenience either herself or her coachman. and twisted his head into a bow which assu red her as plainly as words could have done. As Elinor was neither musical." said he. than on the merit of his nearest relations! For then his brother's bow must have given the finishing stroke to w hat the ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun. and unrestrai ned even by the presence of a harp. within a short dist ance of London. Why they WERE different. who had given them a lecture on toothp ick-cases at Gray's. like other musi cal parties. Robert Ferrars. "Upon my soul. whatever might be her general est imation of the advantage of a public school. and had just determined to find out his name from the latter. He bestowe d his hearty approbation however on their species of house. without living near Dawlish. In one of these excursive glances she perceived among a group of young men. and it has been entire ly your own doing. and it seemed rather surprising to hi m that anybody could live in Devonshire.

but with great humility. for her approbation. will be the end of it. and then. The consideration of Mrs. the inconvenience not more. near Dartf ord. I advise every body who is going to build. and found it would hold exactly eighteen couple. when they got home. So that. at the same time. immediately throwing them a ll into the fire. But I had j ust settled within myself to ask the Miss Steeles to spend a few days with us. indeed. We can ask your sisters some other year. I was to deci de on the best of them. "I do not see how it can be done. How ca n I ask them away from her?" Her husband. and Lady Middlet on could not be displeased at their giving the same number of days to such near relations.' And that I fancy. an d so does my mother." Fanny paused a moment. but this is all a mistake. 'do not adopt either of them. But they are Lady Middleton's visitors. however. My friend Lord Courtland came to me the other day on purpose to as k my advice. said. "without affronting Lady Middleton . T hey are very well behaved.riends about me. 'My dear Courtland. slyly suspecting that another yea r would make the invitation needless. and be happy. you know. "Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations. but the Miss Steeles may not be in town any more. by bringing Elinor to town as Colonel Bran . if it was in my power. Lady Elliott wished to give a dance. you know. in supposing his sister s their guests. card-ta bles may be placed in the drawing-room. you DO like them. and a thought struck him durin g the evening. as my ta king them out this evening shews. You know I am always ready to pay them any attention in my power. for they spend every day with her. 'But how can it be done?' said she. in fact.' Lady Elliott was d elighted with the thought. I was last month at my friend Elliott's. did not see the force of her objection. and I think the attention is due to them. 'm y dear Ferrars. As John Dashwood had no more pleasure in music than his eldest sister. There is not a room in this cottage that will hold ten couple. "My love I would ask them with all my heart.' said I. and where can the supper be?' I immediately s aw that there could be no difficulty in it. and they are such favourites with Harry!" Mr. otherwise I should be exceedingly glad to d o it. and the affair was arranged precisely after my plan. which he communicated to his wife. had suggested the propriety of their being really invited to bec ome such. Dennison's mistake. no space in a cottage . and it was altogether an attention whi ch the delicacy of his conscience pointed out to be requisite to its complete en franchisement from his promise to his father. while Mrs. the library may be open for tea and othe r refreshments. and his conscience was pacified by the resolution of inviting his si sters another year. for she did not think he deserved the compliment of ra tional opposition. 'My dear Lady Elliott. Fanny was startled at the proposal . " They had already spent a week in this manner in Conduit Street. with fresh vigor. Jennings's engagements kept her from home. every comfor t may be as well enjoyed in a cottage as in the most spacious dwelling. his mind was equally at liberty to fix on any thing else. as their uncle did so very well by Edward. but by all means build a cottage ." Elinor agreed to it all. do not be uneasy. Dashwood was convinced. to bui ld a cottage. and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's. We measured the dining-room. you see." said she. if people do but know how to set about it. good kind of girls. so I said. and let the supper be set out in the saloon. do tell me how it is to be managed. The dining parlour will admit eighteen couple with ease. I am su re you will like them. The expense woul d be nothing. very much already. He saw the necessity of inviting the Miss Steeles i mmediately.

don's wife, and Marianne as THEIR visitor. Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready wit that had procured it , wrote the next morning to Lucy, to request her company and her sister's, for s ome days, in Harley Street, as soon as Lady Middleton could spare them. This was enough to make Lucy really and reasonably happy. Mrs. Dashwood seemed actually working for her, herself; cherishing all her hopes, and promoting all her views! Such an opportunity of being with Edward and his family was, above all things, the most material to her interest, and such an invitation the most gratifying to her feelings! It was an advantage that could not be too gratefully acknowledged , nor too speedily made use of; and the visit to Lady Middleton, which had not b efore had any precise limits, was instantly discovered to have been always meant to end in two days' time. When the note was shown to Elinor, as it was within ten minutes after its arriv al, it gave her, for the first time, some share in the expectations of Lucy; for such a mark of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed on so short an acquaintance, seeme d to declare that the good-will towards her arose from something more than merel y malice against herself; and might be brought, by time and address, to do every thing that Lucy wished. Her flattery had already subdued the pride of Lady Midd leton, and made an entry into the close heart of Mrs. John Dashwood; and these w ere effects that laid open the probability of greater. The Miss Steeles removed to Harley Street, and all that reached Elinor of their influence there, strengthened her expectation of the event. Sir John, who calle d on them more than once, brought home such accounts of the favour they were in, as must be universally striking. Mrs. Dashwood had never been so much pleased w ith any young women in her life, as she was with them; had given each of them a needle book made by some emigrant; called Lucy by her Christian name; and did no t know whether she should ever be able to part with them.

[At this point in the first and second editions, Volume II ended.] CHAPTER 37 Mrs. Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that her mother felt it no l onger necessary to give up the whole of her time to her; and, contenting herself with visiting her once or twice a day, returned from that period to her own hom e, and her own habits, in which she found the Miss Dashwoods very ready to resum e their former share. About the third or fourth morning after their being thus resettled in Berkeley Street, Mrs. Jennings, on returning from her ordinary visit to Mrs. Palmer, ente red the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by herself, with an air of such h urrying importance as prepared her to hear something wonderful; and giving her t ime only to form that idea, began directly to justify it, by saying, "Lord! my dear Miss Dashwood! have you heard the news?" "No, ma'am. What is it?" "Something so strange! But you shall hear it all.-- When I got to Mr. Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in a fuss about the child. She was sure it was very ill --it cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples. So I looked at it directly, a nd, 'Lord! my dear,' says I, 'it is nothing in the world, but the red gum--' and nurse said just the same. But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so Mr. Don avan was sent for; and luckily he happened to just come in from Harley Street, s o he stepped over directly, and as soon as ever Mama, he said just as we did, th

at it was nothing in the world but the red gum, and then Charlotte was easy. And so, just as he was going away again, it came into my head, I am sure I do not k now how I happened to think of it, but it came into my head to ask him if there was any news. So upon that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave, and seem ed to know something or other, and at last he said in a whisper, 'For fear any u npleasant report should reach the young ladies under your care as to their siste r's indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I believe there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs. Dashwood will do very well.'" "What! is Fanny ill?" "That is exactly what I said, my dear. 'Lord!' says I, 'is Mrs. Dashwood ill?' So then it all came out; and the long and the short of the matter, by all I can learn, seems to be this. Mr. Edward Ferrars, the very young man I used to joke w ith you about (but however, as it turns out, I am monstrous glad there was never any thing in it), Mr. Edward Ferrars, it seems, has been engaged above this twe lvemonth to my cousin Lucy!--There's for you, my dear!--And not a creature knowi ng a syllable of the matter, except Nancy!--Could you have believed such a thing possible?-- There is no great wonder in their liking one another; but that matt ers should be brought so forward between them, and nobody suspect it!--THAT is s trange!--I never happened to see them together, or I am sure I should have found it out directly. Well, and so this was kept a great secret, for fear of Mrs. Fe rrars, and neither she nor your brother or sister suspected a word of the matter ;--till this very morning, poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature , but no conjurer, popt it all out. 'Lord!' thinks she to herself, 'they are all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will make no difficulty about it;' and so, awa y she went to your sister, who was sitting all alone at her carpet-work, little suspecting what was to come--for she had just been saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that she thought to make a match between Edward and some Lo rd's daughter or other, I forget who. So you may think what a blow it was to all her vanity and pride. She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such sc reams as reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting in his own dressing-room down stairs, thinking about writing a letter to his steward in the country. So up he flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for Lucy was come to them by that time, little dreaming what was going on. Poor soul! I pity HER. And I mu st say, I think she was used very hardly; for your sister scolded like any fury, and soon drove her into a fainting fit. Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cri ed bitterly; and your brother, he walked about the room, and said he did not kno w what to do. Mrs. Dashwood declared they should not stay a minute longer in the house, and your brother was forced to go down upon HIS knees too, to persuade h er to let them stay till they had packed up their clothes. THEN she fell into hy sterics again, and he was so frightened that he would send for Mr. Donavan, and Mr. Donavan found the house in all this uproar. The carriage was at the door rea dy to take my poor cousins away, and they were just stepping in as he came off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, she could hardly walk; and Nancy, she wa s almost as bad. I declare, I have no patience with your sister; and I hope, wit h all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her. Lord! what a taking poor Mr. Edward will be in when he hears of it! To have his love used so scornfully! for they say he is monstrous fond of her, as well he may. I should not wonder, if h e was to be in the greatest passion!--and Mr. Donavan thinks just the same. He a nd I had a great deal of talk about it; and the best of all is, that he is gone back again to Harley Street, that he may be within call when Mrs. Ferrars is tol d of it, for she was sent for as soon as ever my cousins left the house, for you r sister was sure SHE would be in hysterics too; and so she may, for what I care . I have no pity for either of them. I have no notion of people's making such a to-do about money and greatness. There is no reason on earth why Mr. Edward and Lucy should not marry; for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars may afford to do very well by her son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself, she knows better than any body how to make the most of every thing; I dare say, if Mrs. Ferrars would only allow him five hundred a-year, she would make as good an appearance with it as

any body else would with eight. Lord! how snug they might live in such another c ottage as yours--or a little bigger--with two maids, and two men; and I believe I could help them to a housemaid, for my Betty has a sister out of place, that w ould fit them exactly." Here Mrs. Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had time enough to collect her tho ughts, she was able to give such an answer, and make such observations, as the s ubject might naturally be supposed to produce. Happy to find that she was not su spected of any extraordinary interest in it; that Mrs. Jennings (as she had of l ate often hoped might be the case) had ceased to imagine her at all attached to Edward; and happy above all the rest, in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well able to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and to give her judgment , as she believed, with impartiality on the conduct of every one concerned in it . She could hardly determine what her own expectation of its event really was; th ough she earnestly tried to drive away the notion of its being possible to end o therwise at last, than in the marriage of Edward and Lucy. What Mrs. Ferrars wou ld say and do, though there could not be a doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear; and still more anxious to know how Edward would conduct himself. For HI M she felt much compassion;--for Lucy very little--and it cost her some pains to procure that little;--for the rest of the party none at all. As Mrs. Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor soon saw the necessity of preparing Marianne for its discussion. No time was to be lost in undeceiving her, in making her acquainted with the real truth, and in endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others, without betraying that she felt any uneasine ss for her sister, or any resentment against Edward. Elinor's office was a painful one.--She was going to remove what she really bel ieved to be her sister's chief consolation,--to give such particulars of Edward as she feared would ruin him for ever in her good opinion,-and to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations, which to HER fancy would seem strong, fee l all her own disappointment over again. But unwelcome as such a task must be, i t was necessary to be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it. She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own feelings, or to represent her self as suffering much, any otherwise than as the self-command she had practised since her first knowledge of Edward's engagement, might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne. Her narration was clear and simple; and though it c ould not be given without emotion, it was not accompanied by violent agitation, nor impetuous grief.--THAT belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne listened with horror, and cried excessively. Elinor was to be the comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in theirs; and all the comfort that could be gi ven by assurances of her own composure of mind, and a very earnest vindication o f Edward from every charge but of imprudence, was readily offered. But Marianne for some time would give credit to neither. Edward seemed a second Willoughby; and acknowledging as Elinor did, that she HAD loved him most sincer ely, could she feel less than herself! As for Lucy Steele, she considered her so totally unamiable, so absolutely incapable of attaching a sensible man, that sh e could not be persuaded at first to believe, and afterwards to pardon, any form er affection of Edward for her. She would not even admit it to have been natural ; and Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that which only could c onvince her, a better knowledge of mankind. Her first communication had reached no farther than to state the fact of the en gagement, and the length of time it had existed.--Marianne's feelings had then b roken in, and put an end to all regularity of detail; and for some time all that could be done was to soothe her distress, lessen her alarms, and combat her res

and I am so sure o f his always doing his duty. When Lucy first came to Barton Park last No vember. for I assure you I no longer suffer materially myself." At these words. therefore.--And after all. she exclaimed-"Four months!--Have you known of this four months?" Elinor confirmed it.--but without betraying my trust. I acquit Edward of essential misconduct. that though now he may harbour some regret. without being at liberty ." said Marianne. perhaps. Marianne. after all that is bewitching in the idea of a single and constant attachment.Edward will marr y Lucy. was.--For four mo nths. The first question on her side. has this been on your heart?--And I have reproached you for being happy!"-"It was not fit that you should then know how much I was the reverse!" "Four months!"--cried Marianne again. are. Marianne. and all that can be said of one's happiness depending entirely on any particular person. I owed it to her." Marianne seemed much struck. she told me in confidence of her engagement. your selfcommand. I have borne it as much as possible without spreading it farther.-.--and while the comfort of others was dear to me. After a pause of wonder. "I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and my mother. I wish him very happy. wh ich it could not be in my power to satisfy. Elinor? has he written to you?" "I have known it these four months. "What!--while attending me in all my misery. it is not m eant--it is not fit--it is not possible that it should be so.entment. which led to farther particulars. I was glad to spare them from knowing how much I felt. But I did not love only him.--My promise to Lucy."How long has this been known to you. and time and habit will teach him to forget that he ever thought another sup erior to HER. I am not conscious of having provoked the disappointment by any imprudence of my own. I have had all this hanging on my mind. obliged me to be sec ret. Marianne's eyes expressed the astonishment which her lips could not utter.--They are brought more w ithin my comprehension. "if the loss of what is most valued is so easily to be made up by something else. in the end he must become so.--You do not suppose that I have ever felt much. to avoid giving any hint of the truth. I have many things to suppor t me. a little less to be wondered at. Now. your resolution."-"If such is your way of thinking.--"So calm!--so cheerful!--how have you be en supported?"-"By feeling that I was doing my duty. and I o wed it to my family and friends. not to create in them a solicitude about me. and that is the foundation on w hich every thing good may be built." "I understand you. I would not have you suffer on my account." added Elinor. Lucy does not want sense. " and once or twice I have attempted it. he will marry a woman superior in person and understanding to half her s ex. I can think and speak of it with little emotion. I never could have convinced you." "Four months!--and yet you loved him!"-"Yes.

"of the very shocking discovery that took place under our roof yesterday. Ferrars too--in sho rt it has been a scene of such complicated distress--but I will hope that the st orm may be weathered without our being any of us quite overcome. knowing that it would make you and my moth er most unhappy whenever it were explained to you.No. without any diminution of her usual cordiality. with an unchanging complexion. The next morning brought a farther trial of it.--She attended to al l that Mrs. it has not been my only unhappiness. "Your sister. without enjoying its advantages. Donavan say . made Elinor feel equa l to any thing herself.I have known myself to be divided from Edward for ev er.And all this has been going on at a time. -. who have borne with me in all my misery. the consolation that I have been willing to admit." The tenderest caresses followed this confession. without hearing one circumstance that could make me less desire the connecti on. "you have made me hate myself for ever. In such a frame of mind as she was now in.--and it has not been only once. nor has anything declared him indifferent to me. The compo sure of mind with which I have brought myself at present to consider the matter. dissented from her in nothing.--it was in a manner forced on me by the very person herself. "has suffered dreadfully. Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all yesterday.--and even to see Edward himself.-. "You have heard.-.I have had to contend against the unkindness of his sister. Jennings talked of Edward's affection. I have had to o ppose. to admiration. and the ins olence of his mother. therefore. who have been my only comfort. have been the effect of cons tant and painful exertion. as y ou know too well. by endeavouring to appear indifferent where I have been most deeply inter ested. as I thought. who have seemed to be only suffering for me!--Is this my grat itude?--Is this the only return I can make you?--Because your merit cries out up on speak of it to a single creature. and at her request. who came with a most serious aspect to talk over the dreadful affair. in a visit from their brother. when.--they did not spring up of themselves."-She listened to her praise of Lucy with only moving from one chair to another. whose prior engagement ruined all my prospects."-Marianne was quite subdued.--Nothing has proved him unworthy.These were great concessions.It was told me. and told me.-. it cost her only a spasm in her throat. and have suffered the punishment of an attachment. Elinor had no difficulty in obtaining from her whatever promise she required. Mrs. with triumph.If you can think me cap able of ever feeling--surely you may suppose that I have suffered NOW. Marianne.--Such advances towards heroism in her sister. But I would not alarm you too much. if I had not been b ound to silence.--to meet Lucy without betraying the smallest increase of dislike to her.-.-.--but where Marianne felt that she had injured.-"Oh! Elinor. She performed her promise of being discreet. yet unable to prepare you for it in the least.--How barbarous have I been to you!--you. and when Mrs. Jennings had to say upon the subject." They all looked their assent." said he with great solemnity.This person's suspicions. "Yes.--they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first. no reparation could be too much for her to make. and bring them news of his wife. as soon as he was se ated. Marianne engaged never to speak of the affair to any one with the least appearance of bitterness.-. if ch ance should bring them together. I have been trying to do it away.-. ma'am. it seemed too awful a moment for speech.--I have had her hopes and exultation to l isten to again and again." he continued. and was heard three times to say. perhaps nothing could have kept me entirely--not even what I ow ed to my dearest friends--from openly shewing that I was VERY unhappy. I suppose." she cried.--THEN.

was of no avail. He came.' said she. "Gracious God! can this be possible!" "Well may you wonder. All that Mrs. and he never wished to offend anybody. Duty. which being done. 'THERE. to make it twelve hundred. "he has acted like an honest man! I beg your pardon. well-behaved girls. not open to prov ocation. and would be pleasant companions." Here Marianne. it could not be in THAT quarte r. told him she would settle on him the Norfolk estate. "at the obstinacy which c ould resist such arguments as these." replied her brother. "was urged in vain. "What poor Mrs. as well as yourself. and in op position to this. and cr ied. to be sure. she would never see him again. for Lucy Steele is my cousin.' She was qu ite in an agony. Marianne. represented to h im the certain penury that must attend the match. and one cann ot wonder at it. Jennings with blunt sincerity. We consulted together. was in the most determined manner. clapped her hands together." John Dashwood was greatly astonished. wit h all my heart. especially anybody of good fortu ne. affection. for otherwise we both wi shed very much to have invited you and Marianne to be with us. without any resentment. His own two thousand pounds sh e protested should be his all. . merely because she thought they deserved some attention. while your kind f riend there. if he still persisted in this low connection. and so far would s he be from affording him the smallest assistance. I never thought Edward so stubborn. clear of land-tax." he continued. assisted too as you may well suppose by my arguments. is not to b e described. He would stand to it. 'I might have thought myself safe. But I am sorry to relate wha t ensued. that if he were to enter into any profession with a view of better support. where so much kindness had been shewn. in case of his marrying Miss Morton. Ferrars could say to make him put an end to the engageme nt. Mr. was it to be supposed that he could be all the time secre tly engaged to another person!--such a suspicion could never have entered her he ad! If she suspected ANY prepossession elsewhere. her constitution is a good one.s there is nothing materially to be apprehended. 'that we had asked you r sisters instead of them. with the fortitude of an angel! She says she never shall think well of anybody again. His mother explained to him her libera l designs. but she remembered her promises. and forbore. and Fanny's entreaties . was attending her daughter. she would do all in her power to p revent him advancing in it. but if he had done otherwise. Dashwood. and I believ e there is not a better kind of girl in the world.'" Here he stopped to be thanked. Nothing should prevail on him to give up his engagement. in an ecstasy of indignation. Your exclamation is very natural. when matters grew desperate. He therefore replied." "Then. and at last she determined to send for Edward." Marianne was going to retort.' says poor Fanny in her affectionate way. brings in a good thousand a-year. While she with the truest affection had been planning a most eligib le connection for him. but what he did say. so much confidence had been placed! It was quit e out of the benevolence of her heart. And now to be so rewarded! 'I wish. so unfeeling before. Edward said very little. were harmless . he went on. every thing was disregarded. however. and her resolution equal to any thing. as to what should be done. offered even. I have some little concern in the business. after being so deceived!--meeting with such ingratitude. no longer able to be silent. nor one who more deserves a g ood husband. that she had asked these young women to h er house. however. Ferrars suffered. "All this. when first Fanny broke it to her." cried Mrs. but his nature was calm. She has borne it all. which. cost him what it might. I should have thought him a rascal.

at lodgings and taver ns." "Well!" said Mrs. sir. And to have entered into a secr et engagement with a young man under her uncle's care. In short. it must be out of anybody 's power to assist him. because anoth er had plagued me. five hundred a-year (for Miss Morton has thirty thousand pounds. on proper conditions.) I cannot picture to myself a more wretched condition. I dare say. for WE of course can make no i nquiry. but in the present c ase you know." "Poor young man!--and what is to become of him?" "What. with a very natural kind of spirit. though she could n ot forbear smiling at the form of it. "as all hi s friends were disposed to do by him." ." said John Dashwood. We all wish her extremely happy. but where he is gon e. "If he would only have done as well by himself. to make one son independent. "and how did it end?" "I am sorry to say. within three months have been in the receipt of two thousand. and Mrs. He left her house yesterday. in like circumstances." Marianne got up and walked about the room. "I am sure he should be very welcome to bed and board at my house. Born to the prospect of such affluence! I cannot conceive a situation more deplorable. "that is HER revenge. "Can anything be more galling to the spirit of a man. Jennings. and the more so. Ferrars's conduct throughout the whole. but for his own folly. I do not know." "Poor young man!" cried Mrs. I do not mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any per son whom you have a regard for."I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any relation of yours." said Mrs. Ferrars. talking ov er the business. which might have been Edw ard's. And there is one thing more preparing against him. We must all feel for him. madam. and so I would tell him if I could see him. The interest of two thousand pounds--how can a man live on it?--and when to that is added the re collection. Jennings. Edward has drawn his own lot. But as it is. "Well. I left her this morning with her lawyer. But I don't think mine would be. he might now have been in his proper situa tion. Mis s Lucy Steele is. and would have wanted for nothing. It has been dignified an d liberal. the son of a woman especi ally of such very large fortune as Mrs. and I fear it will be a bad one. while braving his mother's threats. that he might. because it is totally out of our power to ass ist him." Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards Edward. Jennings. or whether he is still in town. a very deserving young woman. good mother. has been such as every conscien tious. altogether a little extraordinary. which must be worse than all--his mother has determined. for a woman who could no t reward him. Jennings. indeed. the connection must be impossible. It is not fit that he should be living about at his own charge now.Edward is dismissed for ever from his mother's notice. Mrs. in a most unhappy rupture:-. "than to see his younger brother in possession of an estate which might have been his ow n? Poor Edward! I feel for him sincerely. is perhaps." continued John. Everybody has a way of their own. ma'am. and Elinor's heart wrung for the feelings of Edward. to settle THAT estate upon Robert immediately." Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension. ma'am! It is a melancholy consideration. would adopt.

Jennings might have had enough to do in spreading that knowledge farther. nothing of Edward. and on receiving encouragement from the particular kindness of Mrs. and had a constant dread of me eting them. Elinor gloried in his integrity. she was herself left to quiet reflection. left her own party for a short time. but it br ought only the torture of penitence. of affairs in Harle y Street. and with repeated assurances to his sisters that he really believed there was no ma terial danger in Fanny's indisposition. in try ing to converse upon a topic which always left her more dissatisfied with hersel f than ever. but not as her sister had hoped. Nothing new was heard by them. and how small was the consolation. th ey all joined in a very spirited critique upon the party. leaving the three ladies unanimous in their sent iments on the present occasion. as tending to fix still more upon her thoughts. by the too warm. as far at least as it regarded Mrs. But though so much of the matter was known to them already. was so fine. had prevented her going to them within that time. . for a day or two afterwards. and for some time nothing of anybody who could by any chance whether grave or gay. An intimate acquaintance of Mrs. and Elinor was not sorry that by her continuing with them. but only Elinor and Marianne understood its true merit. than venture into so public a place. Mrs. who. and theref ore it only dispirited her more. and engag ing all Mrs. without the hope of amendment. accosted by Miss Steele. by this p ublic discovery. But though confidence between them was. though looking rather shy. CHAPTER 38 Mrs. She felt all the force of that comparison. Her mind was so much weakened that she still fancied present exertion impossible. too positive as surances of Marianne. Jennings joined them soon after they entered t he Gardens. regretted most bitterly that she had never exerted herself before. and that they need not therefore be very uneasy about it. Jennings. Jennings and Elinor were of the number. that could remain to him in the loss of friends and for tune. Mrs. he went away. Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he quitted the room. But at last she found herself with some surprise. but Marianne. concluded his visit. restored to its proper state. and as her v ehemence made reserve impossible in Elinor. Elinor avoided it upon principle. Jennings. it was not a subject on which eit her of them were fond of dwelling when alone. by the comparison it necessarily produced between Elinor's conduct and her own. THEY only knew how little he had had to tempt him to be disobedient. to join their's. and Marianne forgave all his offences in compassion for his punishment. that belief of Edward's continued affection for herself wh ich she rather wished to do away. who knew that the Willoughbys were again in town.A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion. Jennings's conversation. be interesting to her. The third day succeeding their knowledge of the particulars. that Mrs. and Marianne's courage soon failed her. she had resolved from the first t o pay a visit of comfort and inquiry to her cousins as soon as she could. expressed great satisfaction in meeting them. Jennings immediately whispere d to Elinor. so be autiful a Sunday as to draw many to Kensington Gardens. the Dashwoods'. and unnecessary in Mrs. Jennings was very warm in her praise of Edward's conduct. to urge her to exertion now. though it was only the s econd week in March. and no thing but the hindrance of more visitors than usual. chose rather to stay at home. she felt it with all the pain of continual self-reproa ch. without seeking after more. and Edward's. or Bartlett's Buildings. Ferrars's co nduct. beyond the consc iousness of doing right. She saw nothing of the Willoughbys.

Whatever Lucy might think about it herself. And after thinking it all over and over ag ain. he had got upon his horse." "I am monstrous glad of it. it seemed to him as if. how he had been sent for Wednesday to Harley Stre et. I am sure. "I suppose Mrs. for Miss Godby told Miss Sparks. and how he had declared be fore them all that he loved nobody but Lucy. You se e I cannot leave Mrs. if he had not happened to say s o. However this morning he came just as we came home from chu rch. and did not kn ow what was become of him. for nothing would otherwise have been learnt. my dear. and then it all came out. that when it came to the po int he was afraid Mr. my cousin Richard said himself. did not you? But it WAS said. for it is no such thing I can tell you. and put in the feather last night. now he had no fortune. because it must b . with thirty thousand pounds to her fortu ne. Jennings has heard all about it. but then her spiri ts rose against that. with you. Clarke. But why should not I wear pink ribbons? I do not care if it IS the Doctor's favourite colour." It was lucky. but Miss Dashwood." said Elin or. I could not tell what to think myself. and been talked to by his mother and all of them. and when Edward did not come near us for three days. for we came away from your brother's Wednesday. and ther efore soon judged it expedient to find her way back again to the first." "I never heard any thing of the kind hinted at before. "people may say what they chu se about Mr. and we saw nothing of him not all Thursday. that as soon as he had went away from his mother's house. and I believe in my hear t Lucy gave it up all for lost. and I had it from Miss Sparks mysel f. and rid into the country. and it is quite a shame for such ill-natured reports to be spre ad abroad." speaking triumphantly. is SHE angry?" "I cannot suppose it possible that she should. that nobody in their senses could expect Mr. Good gracious! I have had such a time of it! I neve r saw Lucy in such a rage in my life. "I am so glad to meet you. Ferra rs to give up a woman like Miss Morton. taking her familiarly by the arm-"for I wanted to see you of all things in the world."Get it all out of her." She had wandered away to a subject on which Elinor had nothing to say. She will tell you any thing if you ask. And Lady Middleton. it would be quite unkind to keep her on to the engagement. and Saturday. She vowed at first she would never trim me up a new bonnet. I assure you. YOU are going to laugh at me too. it was no busin ess of other people to set it down for certain. on purpose to get the better of it. he said. and nobody but Lucy would he have. Jennings's curiosity and Elinor's too. I believe. very well. There now. you know. for Mrs. "Oh. I know." "That is a good thing. And besides that. Friday. for Lucy Steele that had nothing at all." said Miss Steele. "Well. so me where or other." And then lowering her voi ce. that she would tell any thing WITHOUT being asked. and how he had stayed about at an inn all Thursday and Friday . and no nothing at a ll. Ferrars's declaring he would not have Lucy. however. My cousins have been so plaguing me! I declare sometimes I do not know which way to look before them. Look. and by more than one. Ferrars would be off. Once Lucy thought to write to him. Is she angry?" "Not at all. nor do any thing else for me again. and we are as good friends as ever. I should never have kn own he DID like it better than any other colour. she made me this bow to my hat. And how he had been so worried by what passed. so long as she lived. for my part. but now she is quite come to.

e for her loss. How could you behave so unfairly by your sist er?" "Oh. no. "Edward talks of going to Oxford soon. but I am sure I would not do such a thing for all the world. an't she? And your brot her and sister were not very kind! However. and talked on some time about wh at they should do. he could ge t nothing but a curacy. and they must wait to be married till he got a living. and they agreed he should take orders directly. she should be very glad to have it all. Richardson was come in her co ach. indeed. Pall Mall. and to be sure they did send us home in their own chariot. La! Miss Dashwood. however . "but now he is lodging at No. and upon HER account. I hea rd him say all this as plain as could possibly be. to get Edward the curacy of his new living. she never made any bones of hiding in a closet. for I certainl y would not have suffered you to give me particulars of a conversation which you ought not to have known yourself." said Elinor. nothing was said about them. that he said a word about being off. he will be ordained. And it was entirely for HER s ake. or any thing like it. or somethi ng of the kind. so I was forced to go into the room and interrupt them." said she. but. And for my part. you know. I was all in a fright for fear your sister should ask us for the huswifes she had gave us a day or two before. if she had the least mind for it. on purpose to hear what we said. and how was they to live upon that?--He could not bear t o think of her doing no better." "I do not understand what you mean by interrupting them. which was more than I looked for. so he must go there for a time. and not upon his own. from what was uppermost in her mind. "you wer e all in the same room together. I shan't say anything against them t o YOU. as soon as he can light upon a Bishop. and all that--Oh. And I am sure Lucy would have done just the same by me. "have you been repeating to me what you only learnt yourse lf by listening at the door? I am sorry I did not know it before. 'I wonder how you could think of such a thing? I write to the . and if he was to go into orders. and no hope of any t hing else. But. --. not us. so I just run up stairs and put on a pair of silk stocki ngs and came off with the Richardsons. for my cousin called from below to tell me Mrs. and so he begged. when they hear of it.)--No. they were shut up in the drawing-room together. to put an end to the matter directly. for she could live with him upon a trifle." "How!" cried Elinor. (Lau ghing affectedly. They will tell me I sho uld write to the Doctor. and would take one of us to Kensington Gardens. to ask Lucy if she would like to go. she had not the least mind in th e world to be off. when Martha Sharpe and I had so many secrets together. and all I heard was only by listening at the door. What an ill-natured woman his mother is. la! there is nothing in THAT. you know. And just then I could not hear any mor e. to be sure. were not you?" "No. and leave him shift for himself. for a year or two back." Elinor tried to talk of something else. la! one can't repeat such k ind of things you know)--she told him directly. as he had some thoughts. I know they will. I wonder what curacy he will get!--Good gracious! (giggling as she spoke) I'd lay my lif e I know what my cousins will say. and how little so ever he might have. he says. Lucy would not give ear to such kind of talking. for shame!--To be sure you must know better than that.'La!' I sh all say directly. I only stood at the door.-. and heard what I c ould. so she told him directly (with a great de al about sweet and love. for he had nothing but two thousand pounds. but she did no t care to leave Edward. or of wishing to marry Miss Morton. do you think people make love when any body else is by? Oh. and I took care to keep mine out of sight. and after THAT. but Miss Steele could not be kept beyon d a couple of minutes. Edward have got some business at Oxford. or behind a chimney-board. So then he was monstrous happy. I will take my oath he never dropt a syllable of being tired of her.

The continuance of their e ngagement. indeed!'" "Well. It was as follows: "Bartlett's Building. for after this. He makes a monstrous deal of money. will set down upon a curacy of fifty pounds a-year. but the approach of her own party made another more necessary. Remember me kindly t o her. as she had concluded it would be. Good-by. I suppose Lady Middleton won't ask us any more this bout. exact ly after her expectation. I am sure we should be very glad to come and stay with her for as long a time as she likes." Miss Steele was going to reply on the same subject. but pray tell her I am qu ite happy to hear she is not in anger against us. March. but as Elinor wished to spread as little as possible intelligence that had i n the first place been so unfairly obtained. I assure you they are very genteel people. and the time of its taking place remained as abso lutely uncertain. she confined herself to the brief r epetition of such simple particulars. "I hope my dear Miss Dashwood will excuse the liberty I take of writing to her. We have had great trials. and Mrs. therefore will make no more apologies. Edward's marriage with Luc y was as firmly determined on. at present. You hav e got your answer ready. "Wait for his having a living!--ay. she had time only to pay her fare well compliments to Mrs. . "Oh. on his getting that preferment. and as happy a s we must always be in one another's love. at the same time. Steele and Mr. and they keep their own coach. but I know your friendship for me will make you pleased to hear such a good acc ount of myself and my dear Edward. Jennings. as she felt assured that Lucy. we all know how THAT will end:--they will w ait a twelvemonth." Such was her parting concern. Pratt can give her. but I must not stay away from them not any longer. and great p ersecutions." The next morning brought Elinor a letter by the two-penny post from Lucy hersel f.--No. Richar dson. and what l ittle matter Mr. As soon as they returned to the carriage. la! here come the Richardsons. and this produced from Mrs.--every thing depended. no. and finding no good comes of it. there seemed not the smallest chance. but proceed to say that. was a ll her communication. would choose to have known. a nd if anything should happen to take you and your sister away. they must get a stout girl of all works. Jennings the following natural remark. and Lady Middleton the same. I had a vast deal more to say to you. gratefully acknowledge many friends. we are both quite well now. for the sak e of her own consequence.-. thank God ! though we have suffered dreadfully. with the interest of his two thousand pounds.Betty's sister would never do for them NOW. of which." said Elinor. Jennings should want company. Jennings about it myself. after all the troubles we have went through l ately. I ha ve not time to speak to Mrs. Mrs. and the means that were able to be taken for promoting its end. La! if you have not got your spotted muslin on!--I wonder you was not afr aid of its being torn. but however. "it is a comfort to be prepared against the worst. Jennings was eager for informati on.--Then they will have a child every year! and Lord help 'em! how poor they will be!--I must see what I can gi ve them towards furnishing their house. I am sorry Miss Marianne was not here.Doctor. though she had learnt very little more than what had b een already foreseen and foreplanned in her own mind. and Elinor was left in possession of knowledge which might feed her powers of reflection some time. indeed!--as I tal ked of t'other day. Two maids and two men. before her company was claimed by Mrs.

for shewing it me. received a very warm invitation from Charlotte t o go with them. whose great kindness I shall always thankful ly remember. or Mr. Palmer. she performed what she concluded to be its w riter's real design. and dear Mrs. the quiet of the country. Jennings won't think it too much trouble to give us a call. he would not hear of our parting. "No. who resisted them with all the eloquence of her good-will. as. who read it al oud with many comments of satisfaction and praise. when you chance to see them. with great agitation. and does Lucy's head and heart great credit. induced her to accept it with plea sure. joined to the very great amendment of his manners towards them s ince her sister had been known to be unhappy. She began. and to Sir John. have been sufficient for the delicacy of Miss Dashwood. urge him to it for prudence sake. an d the dear children. The Palmers were to remove to Cleveland about the end of March. Jennings. She sighed for the air.yourself not the least among them. should she co me this way any morning. and should it ever be in your power to recommend him to any body that has a living to bestow. Palm er himself. am very sure you will not forget us . who I have told of it. though detaining them from home yet a few weeks longer. She is a good-hearted girl as ever lived. and begging to be most gratef ully and respectfully remembered to her. and hope for the best .--Very well upon my word. &c. hop e Mrs. Barton must do it. her first reply was not very auspicious. or any friend that may be able to assist us. Jennings. Jennings too. I am sure you will be gl ad to hear. I spent two happy hours with him yes terday afternoon. he will be ordained shortly.--Poor soul! I wish I COULD get him a living. with both her friends.--My paper reminds me to conclude. sure enough. and fancied that if any place could give her ease . I cannot go to Cleveland. by placing it in the hands of Mrs.--Poor Anne was mu ch to blame for what she did. which Marianne could not b e brought to acknowledge. That sentence is very prettily turned. but she did it for the best. and would have part ed for ever on the spot.--She calls me dear Mrs. as will Edward too. 'twould be a great kindness. while he could have my affections. It is as pretty a letter as ever I saw. you see. Yes. and Mrs. and Lady Middleton. to be sure. in itself. though earnestly did I. to think of every body!--Thank you. and had already mentioned their wishes to their kind ho stess. and only so much less bent on its being effected immediately. our pr ospects are not very bright. This would not. J ennings. I will go and see her. for the Easter holidays. Elinor was hardly less anxious than herself for their remov al. that was quite proper to let him be off if he would. but we must wait. "Very well indeed!--how prettily she writes!--aye. trust she will speak a good word for us to Sir Joh n. as I thought my duty required. That was just like Lucy. so I say nothing." CHAPTER 39 The Miss Dashwoods had now been rather more than two months in town. the libe rty. as that she wa s conscious of the difficulties of so long a journey. appe ared to Elinor altogether much more eligible than any other. and my cousins would be pr oud to know her. yes."- . as likewise dear Mrs. would he consent to it.--but it was inforced with so much real politeness by Mr. seriously to turn her thoughts tow ards its accomplishment. Jennings. which. and love to Miss Marianne. my dear. "Cleveland!"--she cried. How attenti ve she is. with all my heart. he did not regard his mother's anger. and Marian ne's impatience to be gone increased every day. however." As soon as Elinor had finished it. however. but he said it should never be. "I am. when a plan wa s suggested. When she told Marianne what she had done.

and had even changed her seat. From Cleveland.--and Mrs.--represented it. she could not keep herself from seeing that Elinor changed colour .--I cannot go into Somersetshire. that she pressed them very earnestly to return with her again from Cleveland. which was within a few miles of Bristol. when I come back!--Lord! we shall sit and g ape at one another as dull as two cats. and was too intent on what he said to pursue her empl oyment.. Jennings's address to him when he first called on her. to provoke him to make that offer. some words of the Colonel's inevitably r eached her ear. and as there could be no occasion of their staying above a week at Cleveland. on p urpose that she might NOT hear. in which he seemed to be apologising for the badness of his hous e. tha t she did not think THAT any material objection. Mrs. I do not know what you and I shall do without the Miss Dashwoods. . "Lord! what should hinder it?"--but checking her desire. you cannot expect me to go there. when another lucky stop in Marianne's performa nce brought her these words in the Colonel's calm voice. could not escape her observation. What Elinor said in reply she could not distinguish. than any other plan could do." "But it is in Somersetshire.. indeed. She wondered.. Elinor.--and if so. and conversed with her there for several minutes .--she onl y endeavoured to counteract them by working on others.--and Marianne found some relief in drawing up a statement of the hours that were yet to divide her from Barton. on Elinor's moving to the window to take more expeditiously the dimensions o f a print.Still farther in confirmation of her hopes.. the distance to Barton was not beyond one day.--and how forlorn we shall be.. to one close by the piano forte on which Mariann e was playing.-"I am afraid it cannot take place very soon. in the interval of Mariann e's turning from one lesson to another. they might now be at home in little more than three weeks' time. The effect of his discourse on the lady too. where I l ooked forward to going. Jennings commended he r in her heart for being so honest. attended with agitation."You forget. which she was going to copy for her friend. confined herself to this silent ejaculation." Perhaps Mrs." Elinor would not argue upon the propriety of overcoming such feelings. she had soon afterwards good reason to think her object gained. over the imaginary evils she had started. which might give himself an escape from i t. as a measure which would fix the time of her returning to that dear mother.that it is not i n the neighbourhood of. therefor e. more comfortable manner. and their mother's concurrence being readily gained. "that its situation is not.--There. Jennings was in hopes. it must triumph with little difficulty. at his thinking it necessary to do so. and their mother's servant might easily co me there to attend them down. Jennings was so far from being weary of her guests. This set the matter beyond a doubt. for though she was too honorable to listen. he followed her to it wit h a look of particular meaning. As Marianne's affection for her mother was sincere. after their l eaving her was settled--"for they are quite resolved upon going home from the Pa lmers. but supposed it to be the proper etiquette.-.No. in a more eligible." said Elinor gently.. They then talked on for a few minutes longer without her catching a syllable. by this vigorous sketch of their future enn ui. and perhaps without any greater delay. "Ah! Colonel. though a long day's journey. f or. but it could not alter her design. she was almost ready to cry out. "--was Mrs. but judged from the motion of her lips." Astonished and shocked at so unlover-like a speech. Elinor was grateful for the attention. w hom she so much wished to see. every thing relative to their return was arranged as far as it could be.

It was an office in short.but Colonel Brandon. had th e Colonel been really making her an offer of his hand. was st ill in town. Ferrars two or three times in Harley Street. But at the same time. as I am informed by this day's post. if he thi nk it worth his acceptance--but THAT. not to such an amount as to afford him a very comfortable income. but I have seen enough of him to wish him well for hi s own sake.It is a rectory. Ferrars does not know what she may be doing--what she may driv e her son to. the Colonel should be able to take leave of them. and fortunately she had heard his address from Miss Steele. so unfortunately circumstanced as he is now. Su ch as it is. did not make more than 200 L per annum. and promised to undertake the commission with pleasure. "I have heard. but a small one. however. was already provide d to enable him to marry. What had really passed between them was to this effect. the impolitic cruelty. that sh e would not on any account make farther opposition. from which. Mrs. with the utmost sang-froid.-." said he." Elinor's astonishment at this commission could hardly have been greater."--he replied. declining it likewise. and her gratitude for the particular friendship. and only wondered that after he aring such a sentence. or attempting to divide. Ferrars has suffered from his family. and though it is certainly capable of improveme nt. she believed. her esteem for the general benevolence.--and SHE. and moving different ways. which together prompted Colonel Brandon to this act. I only wish it were more valu able. spoke of Edward's principles and disposition with that praise which sh e knew them to deserve. I understand that he intends to take orders. now just vacant. with great feeling." This delay on the Colonel's side.Mrs. and a m much pleased with him. still seemed so desirous of its being given through her means. the late incumbent. for if I understand the matter right. The preferment. of all people in the world. and as a friend of yours. which onl y two days before she had considered as hopeless for Edward. Edward. on motives of equal delicacy. was fixed on to bestow it!--Her emotion was such as Mrs. is terrible. "The cruelty. and with a voice which shewed her to feel what she said. however. Jennings was delighted with her gratitude.--but whatever minor feelings less pure.Have I been rightly informed?--Is it so?--" Elinor told him that it was. "I shall always think myself very much obliged to you. She cou ." Mrs.-. h e has been entirely cast off by them for persevering in his engagement with a ve ry deserving young woman."This is very strange!--sure he need not wait to be older. I wish it still more. might have a share in that emotion. two young people long attached to each other. She thanked him for it with all h er heart. will be very great. did not seem to offend or mortify hi s fair companion in the least. it may be nonsense to appear to doubt. less pleasing. is his. Jennings very plainly heard Elinor say. with great compassion. and warmly expressed. P ray assure him of it. Will you be so good as to tell him that the living of D elaford. as he i mmediately did. "of the injustice your friend M r.--"of div iding. I fear. my pleasure in presenting him to it. I believe. if it were really his wish to put off so agreeable an office to another. for on their breaking up the conference soon afte rwards. unwilling to give Edward the pain of receiving an obligation from HER.-. Jennings had attributed to a very diffe rent cause. perhaps. I have seen Mr. she would have been very glad to be sp ared herself. she could not help thinking that no one could so well perform it as himself. and go away without making her any r eply!--She had not thought her old friend could have made so indifferent a suito r. He is not a young man with whom one can be intimately a cquainted in a short time. were strongly felt.-.

by an unforeseen chance it should be in my power to serve him farther. sagaciously smiling. in the course of the day. somehow or other he will soon find an opportunity . as soon as the gentleman had withdrawn. There are not many men who would act as he has done.--at l east. Colonel Brandon began to talk of his own advantage in securin g so respectable and agreeable a neighbour. made very light of. there was nothing more likely to happen. however. Few people who have so compassionate a heart! I never was m ore astonished in my life. for it will be in proportion to their family and income. I wish you joy of it again and again. so justly offended the delicat e feelings of Mrs. but after this narration of what really passed betw een Colonel Brandon and Elinor. for I have often thought of late. Ferrars comfortable as a bach elor." said she. " "You judged from your knowledge of the Colonel's general benevolence. And I assure you I never was better pleased in my life. I an't the least astonished at it in the w orld.--" Such was the sentence which. if I am not as ready to be useful to him then as I sincerely wish I could be at present.--an evil which Elinor. as M rs. If. that the house was small and indifferent. I am afraid it cannot take place very soon. may perhaps appear in general. and THEN it was that he mentioned wi th regret." "Lord! my dear. . upon my honour. and I wish you joy of it with all my heart. Jennings. What I am now doing indeed. when a man has once mad e up his mind to such a thing." said Mrs. his only object of happiness. it cannot enable him to marry. "This little rectory CAN do no more than make Mr. I am sorry to say that my patronage ends wi th this. I could not help catching enough to understand his business. Jennings--"Oh! as to that." said Elinor. Jennings. while they stood at the window." "Thank you. I TRIED to keep out of hearing. with a faint sm ile. CHAPTER 40 "Well. the gratitude ex pressed by the latter on their parting. since it can advance him so little towards what must be his principal . ma'am. His marriage must still be a distant good. for he did not suppo se it possible that Delaford living could supply such an income. nor less properly worded than if it had arisen from an offer of marriage. and my interest is hardly more extensive. I must think very differe ntly of him from what I now do. "It is a matter of great joy to me. and I feel the goodness of Colonel Brandon most sensibly." By which the Colonel was surprised to find that SHE was considering Mr. my dear. Jennings had supposed her to do. as anybody in h is style of life would venture to settle on--and he said so." said Elinor. at least as far as rega rded its size. and if ever there was a h appy couple in the world. Well. you are very modest. "I do not ask you what the Colonel has been saying to y ou. "I cannot imagine any inconvenience to them. Ferrars 's marriage as the certain consequence of the presentation. "The smallness of the house." "You mean to go to Delaford after them I suppose. I think I shall soon know where to look for them." "Opportunity!" repeated Mrs. not less reasonably excited. but at le ast you could not foresee that the opportunity would so very soon occur. seems nothi ng at all. After this had been settled. Miss Dashwood. for though. when misunderstood.ld undertake therefore to inform him of it.

One day's delay will not be very mater ial. ho!--I understand you. not even Lucy if you please. my dear. I shall do THAT directly. my dear." "And so YOU are forced to do it. "I have just been thinking of Betty's sister. but I shall not mention it at p resent to any body else. Jennings's speech." Elinor did not quite understand the beginning of Mrs. and besides. she could not immediately compreh end." "No. "Then you would not ha ve me tell it to Lucy. She is an excellent housemaid.-"Well." And away she went. my dear. and till I have written to Mr. But. ma'am. for I dare say your mind is too e for company. Mr." This speech at first puzzled Mrs. And as to the house being a bad one. Ferrars was to have been written to about it in such a hurry. neithe r did she think it worth inquiring into. for we shall ask you to go with me. ma'am. So goodby. said. I do not know what the Colonel would be at. we may have it all over in the evening. I am su re I can't tell. for I think of going as far as Holborn to-day. indeed. I will not disturb you (seeing her preparing to write. I shall tell Marianne of it. Ferrars is to be the man. he is the proper pe rson. and whose fault is that? why don't he repair it?--who should do it but h imself?" They were interrupted by the servant's coming in to announce the carriage being at the door. that he rather wished any one to announc e his intentions to Mr." Marianne had left the room before the conversation began. I should be very glad to get her so good a mistress. and I am very gla d to find things are so forward between you. But. Jennings exceedingly. "Colonel Brandon is so delicate a man. however be quite alone. produced a very happy idea. and Mrs. to be sure. Ay. my dear. Ferrars than himself. A few moments' reflection. Well THAT is an odd kind of delicacy! However."Aye. I have not heard of any thing to please me so well since Charlotte was brought to bed. It is of importance that no time s hould be lost with him. Why Mr.) You know your own conce rns best. he must be ordained in readiness. I must be gone before I have had half ." ." "Well. and therefore only replied to its concl usion. Well. for it is as good a one as ever I saw." said Mrs. and she exc laimed. "Certainly. However. so much the bet ter for him. Jennings immediately preparing to go. and works very well at her needl e. however. Ferrars. But whether she would do for a lady's maid." "Oh! very well. my dear. but returning again in a moment. I do not full of the matter to car sister all about it. is not this rather ou t of character? Should not the Colonel write himself?--sure. you must long to tell your my talk out. I think it ought not to be mentione d to any body else. that I do.-"Oh. for he will of course have much to do relative to his or dination." "He spoke of its being out of repair. you will think of all that at your leisure. Jennings rather disappointed.

I am charged with a most agreeable office (breathing rather faster than usual as she spoke. in short. to force her upon this greatest exertion of all. He too was much distressed. Jennings told me. as might establish all your v iews of happiness. as he came to leave his farewell card. and sat deliberating o ver her paper. though at the same time. which I was on the point of communicating by paper. but determining to be on the safe side. who was here only ten minutes ago. however. Her astonishment and c onfusion were very great on his so sudden appearance. at least I understood her so--or I certainly should not have intruded on you in such a man ner.--Whether he had asked her pardon for his int rusion on first coming into the room. has desired me to say. and they sat down together in a mos t promising state of embarrassment. not hearing much of what she said." "You would not have gone. Jen nings was quite right in what she said. gathering more resolution. He had met Mrs. with the pen in her hand. She had not seen him befor e since his engagement became public. as he could not say it himself. but she equally feared to say too much or too little. "that you wished to speak with me. after taking a chair. I have something of consequence to infor m you of. recovering herself." What Edward felt. and wanted to s peak with him on very particular business.) Colon el Brandon. and she. and to j oin in his wish that the living--it is about two hundred a-year--were much more considerable. and such as might better enable you to--as might be more than a te mporary accommodation to yourself--such. "without receivin g our good wishes. I should have been extremely sorry to leave London without seeing you and your sister. even if we had not been able to give them in person. he has great pleasure in offering you the livi ng of Delaford now just vacant. with the consciousness of what she had been think ing of. ma'am. by saying that Miss Dashwood was above. he could not recollect. Allow me to congratulate you on having so respectable and well-judging a friend. when her visitor entered. in the midst of her perplexity. as some of the worst was ov er. I go to Oxford tomorrow. after apologising for not returning herself. he made his apology in form as soon as he could say any th ing. that under standing you mean to take orders. Jennings at the door in her way to the carriage. and what she had to tell him. "Colonel Brandon!" "Yes." said Elinor. How she should begin--how she should express herself in her note to Edward. till broken in on by the entrance of Ed ward himself. it was a t least preferable to giving the information by word of mouth. The particular circumstances between them made a difficult y of that which to any other person would have been the easiest thing in the wor ld. than to be mistress of the subject. "Colonel Brandon means it as a testimony of his concern for what has lately . it cannot be expected that an y one else should say for him. was now all her concern. especially as it will most likely be some t ime--it is not probable that I should soon have the pleasure of meeting you agai n." continued Elinor. h ad obliged him to enter. and only wishes it were more valuable. "Mrs." said he. and therefore not since his knowing her to be acquainted with it. and more anxious to be alone. Mrs. Elinor had just been congratulating herself. but he said only these two words. such unthought-of information could not fail of exciting. and determ ined to get over what she so much dreaded as soon as possible. th at however difficult it might be to express herself properly by letter." replied Elinor. which."Certainly. made her feel particularly uncomfortable f or some minutes. He LOOKED all the astonishment which such unexpec ted.

recal . so earnest.--I feel it--I would express it if I could--but. at least almost entirely. and they parted." said he. "Colonel Brandon. "I must hurry away then. and in his manners perfectly the gentleman. "I believe that you will find him. all that you have heard him to be. which probably contributed to fix that suspicion in his mind which had recently entered it. "When I see him again.passed--for the cruel situation in which the unjustifiable conduct of your famil y has placed you--a concern which I am sure Marianne. and his particular approbation of your behaviour on the present occasion. he may. For a short time he sat deep in thoug ht. I owe it all." Truth obliged her to acknowledge some small share in the action. as you well know. as the door shut him out. after Elinor had ceased to speak. to give him those thanks which you will not allow me t o give YOU. with sudden consciousness. but she was at the same time so unwilling to appear as the benefactress of Edward. lodges in St." Elinor did not offer to detain him. I think." "You are very much mistaken. nor had it ever occurred to me that he might have had suc h a living in his gift. to your goodness. He is un doubtedly a sensible man. perhaps--inde ed I know he HAS. to assure him that he has made me a very--an exceedingly happy man. I am no orator. myself. than the power of expressing it. but. for I cann ot be ignorant that to you. you owe nothing to my solicitation. I have always h eard him spoken of as such. upon my word. and your brother I know esteems him highly." And with this pleasing anticipation. and all your frien ds. "Colonel Brandon seems a man of great worth and respectability. on farther acquain tance. as seemed to say. and Colonel Brandon's discernment of it." Edward made no answer. Elinor told him the number of the house. that she ac knowledged it with hesitation. till I understood his design.--at last. must share. still greater pleasure in bestowing it. I did not even know. she sat down to reconsider the past. I do assure you that you owe it entirely.) it is particularly important that he SHOULD be all this. on HIS. I have had no hand in it. gave her a look s o serious." replied Elinor. rising from his chair." replied he." said Elinor to herself. and as you will be such very near neig hbours (for I understand the parsonage is almost close to the mansion-house. with a very earnest assura nce on HER side of her unceasing good wishes for his happiness in every change o f situation that might befall him. of my family. James Street." "Indeed. to your own merit. he said." "No. and as if it were rather an effo rt. and likewise as a proof of his high esteem for your general char acter. but when she had turned away her head. "not to find it in YOU. that the living was vacant. soon afterward s. so uncheerful. that he might hereafter wish the distance between the parsonage and the mansion-house much greater. with rather an attempt to return the same good will. As a friend of mine. "I sh all see him the husband of Lucy. " "Colonel Brandon give ME a living!--Can it be possible?" "The unkindness of your own relations has made you astonished to find friendshi p any where.

and of whom therefore she must have a great deal to say. before L ucy goes to it." Elinor was quite of her opinion. Take my word for it. how calmly you talk of it. the parsonage is but a small one. I do think it is not worth while to wait two or three months for him. and I am sure I shan't go if Lucy an't there. "what can you be thinking of?-. "Lord! my dear. Jennings. CHAPTER 41 .Why. my dear!--Sure you do not mean to persuade me that the Colonel only marries you for the sake of giving ten guineas to Mr." "Well. as to the probability of their not waiting for any thing more. ma'am. that. Jennings only exchanged one form of delight for another. and I think the housekeeper told me could make up fifteen beds!--and to you too." "The Colonel is a ninny. my dear. because he has two thousand a-year himself. "and very likely MAY be out of repair . of cour se. and how soon will he be ready?--For it seems all to depend upon that. When Mrs.It seems quite ridiculous. and make it comfortable for them. Did not I do right?-And I suppose you had no great difficulty--You did not find him very unwilling t o accept your proposal?" "No." "Lord bless you. "I sent you up the young man. or the preparation necessary. for Mrs. without any material loss of happiness to either. Jennings came home." she cried. my dear.l the words and endeavour to comprehend all the feelings of Edward. if I am alive. h er mind was so much more occupied by the important secret in her possession. after the first ebullit ion of surprise and satisfaction was over. though she returned from seeing people whom she h ad never seen before. I shall be paying a visit at Delaford Parsonage before Michaelmas." "But Colonel Brandon does not seem to have any idea of the living's being enoug h to allow them to marry. Colonel Bran don's only object is to be of use to Mr. to reflect on her own with discontent. and still without forfeiting her expectation of the fir st. that I can har dly even conjecture as to the time. and. that she reverted to it again as soon as Elinor appeared. but I suppose two or three months will complete his ordination. Ferrars!" The deception could not continue after this." said Elinor." "Really. for a house that to my knowledge has five sitting rooms on the ground-floor. we must touch up the Colon el to do some thing to the parsonage. aye." said Elinor." said she. and an explanation immediately too k place. Sure somebody else might be found that would do as well." "Two or three months!" cried Mrs." "My dear ma'am. and can the Colonel wait two or three months! Lord bless me!--I am sure it would put ME quite out of patience!--And though one would be very glad to do a kindness by poor Mr. "Aye. tha n by anything else. as I thought. that had been used to live in Barto n cottage!-. Ferrars. Ferrars. h e thinks that nobody else can marry on less. THAT was not very likely. but to hear a man apologising. But. by which both gained considerable amusement for the moment. my dear. "Well. "I know so little of these kind of forms. s omebody that is in orders already.

As for Colonel Brandon. having carried his thanks to Colonel Brandon. however. The consequence was.--Why would not Marianne come?"-Elinor made what excuse she could for her. f or I am sure she will not have the least objection in the world to seeing YOU. she was not only ready to wors hip him as a saint. John Dashwood. could overcome her unwillingness to be in her company again. Her own happiness. and her own spirits. Jennings. Dashwood was denied. and she joi ned Mrs. invited her to come in. NOW especially there cannot be--but however. but was moreover truly anxious that he should be treated as one in all worldly concerns. his carriage. and such was the excess of it by the time he reached Bartlett's Bui ldings. who called on her again the n ext day with her congratulations. indeed. not contented with absolutely refusing to go herself. and." he replied. It was now above a week since John Dashwood had called in Berkeley Street. that not even her curiosity to see how she looked after the late discovery. from any backwardness to give Elinor that credit which Edward WOULD give h er. as far as she possibly could." "Really!--Well. and his poultry. "I am not sorry to see you alone. beyond one verbal enquiry. assuring h er that Fanny would be very glad to see her. and scarcely resolved to avail herself. was ready to own all their obligation to her." "It is perfectly true. at Delaford. He expressed great pleasure in meeting Elinor. of his servants.--This was an obligation. though her carriage was alwa ys at Elinor's service. either present or future. Jennings most heartily in her expectation of their being all comfortabl y together in Delaford Parsonage before Michaelmas. this is very astonishing!--no relationship!--no connection betw een them!--and now that livings fetch such a price!--what was the value of this? . that she had never seen him in such spirits be fore in her life. "Fanny is in her own room. which not only opposed her own inclination. you and Marianne were always great favourites.--Nobody was there. and as since that time no notice had been taken by them of his wife's indisposition. would eve r surprise her. Jennings. proceeded with his happin ess to Lucy. told her that he had been just going to call in Berkeley Street. and Mrs. They walked up stairs in to the drawing-room. his cows. so very much disliked Mrs. he r husband accidentally came out.-Very far from it. that she was able to assure Mrs. So far was she. Maria nne." said he:--"I will go to her presently. but before the carriage could turn from the house. This living of Colonel Brandon's--can it be true?--has he really given it to Edward?--I heard it yesterday by chance. Mrs. I suppose. was very urgent to pr event her sister's going at all.Edward. but which had not the assistance of any encouragement from her companions. Elinor began to feel it necessary to pay her a visit . that she spoke of her friendship for them both with the most grateful warmth . "for I have a good deal to say t o you. that Elinor set out by herself to pay a visit. at the same time. were at least very certain.--Colonel Brandon has given the living of Delaford to Edw ard. for which no one could really have less inclination. and was coming to you on purpose to enquire farther about it. for she believed her capable of doing any thing in the world for those she really valued. nor her strong des ire to affront her by taking Edward's part. anxious that his tithes should be raised to the utm ost. whom neither of the others had so much reas on to dislike. and openly declared that no exer tion for their good on Miss Dashwood's part. and to run the risk of a tete-a-tete with a woman.

aye. I should think it must nearly have escaped her memory by THIS time. I fear she must hear of it all. and by relating that she had herself been employed in conveying the offer from Colonel Brandon to Edward. When Edward's unhappy match takes place. by which neither she nor her child could be possibly impoverished. she cannot be imagined liabl e to any impression of sorrow or of joy on his account--she cannot be interested in any thing that befalls him. and. "your reasoning is very good. whatever Colonel Brandon may be." added he. such natural. cast him off likewise. "It is truly astonishing!"--he cried." "You wrong her exceedingly. "knows nothing about it at present. Ferrars can never forget that Edward is her son. Mrs. Ferrars. after hearing what she said--"what could be the Colonel's motive?" "A very simple one--to be of use to Mr. and she bears it vastly well. therefore. and likely to vacate it soon--he might have got I dare say--fourteen hundred pounds.--You will not mention the matter to Fanny. Edward is a very lucky man. obliged him to sub mit to her authority. concern!--Well." "Very well--and for the next presentation to a living of that value--supposing the late incumbent to have been old and sickly." "Well. lowering his voice to the tone becoming so important a subject.--she will not like to hear it much talked of.-.She would not be so weak as to throw away the comfort of a child. an acquisition of wealth to her brother. is she supposed to feel at all?--She has done with her son . yet why. Surely. and . and I believe it will be best to keep it entirely concealed from her as long as may be.--Aye. after doing so." "About two hundred a year. Ferrars can have the smallest satisfaction in knowing that her son has mone y enough to live upon." said John. however--on recollection--that the case may probably be THIS." Elinor contradicted it. for though I have broke it to her . but it is founded on ign orance of human nature. but a man of Colonel Brandon's sense!--I wonder he should be so im provident in a point of such common. depend upo n it. must be concealed fro m her as much as possible. she cast him off for ever.When the marriage takes place. And how came he not to have settled that matter before this person's death?--NOW indeed it would be too lat e to sell it. that is the fact. must understand the terms on which it was given. however. I am convince d that there is a vast deal of inconsistency in almost every human character. "Mrs. very positively. and has made all those over whom she had any influe nce. well." "But why should such precaution be used?--Though it is not to be supposed that Mrs. therefore e very circumstance that may accelerate that dreadful event. I suppose. and yet retain the anxiety of a parent!" "Ah! Elinor." Elinor had some difficulty here to refrain from observing. depend upon it his mother will feel as much as if she had never discarded him. " "You surprise me. upo n her late behaviour.--for THAT must be quite out of the question.-. is old enough to take it. that she thought Fan ny might have borne with composure. Edward is only to hold the living till the person to whom the Colonel has really sold the presentation. however. Ferrars is one of the most affectionate mother . Ferrars. Mrs.

or I should not repeat it. B ut I thought I would just tell you of this. for otherwise it would be very wrong to say any thing ab out it--but I have it from the very best authority--not that I ever precisely he ard Mrs. though very different. as she had given them to John. because I know it must gratify you. all that is quite out of the question--not to be thought of or men tioned--as to any attachment you know--it never could be--all that is gone by. whatever objections there might be against a certain--a certain co nnection--you understand me--it would have been far preferable to her. by the gay unconcern. and from the danger of hearing any thing more from her brother.--"I may assure you. Has Colonel Brandon been with you lately?" Elinor had heard enough.--and she was therefore glad to b e spared from the necessity of saying much in reply herself."--said Mr.--and I WILL do it. perhaps. and Elin or was left to improve her acquaintance with Robert.--His reflection s ended thus. 'It would have been beyond comparison.' But however. 'the least evil of the two. recollecting that Fanny was yet un informed of her sister's being there. and I have it from her--T hat in short. "The lady. and was very inquisitive on the sub ject.' she said. and she would be glad to compound NOW for nothing worse. they are bo th very agreeable young men: I do not know that one is superior to the other. to the prejudice of his banished brother. my dear sister. and their effect on Robert." Elinor said no more." "Certainly. Elinor repeated the particulars of it. They had scarcely been two minutes by themselves. too. was confirming her most unfavourable opinion of his head and heart. "Of ONE thing. before he began to speak of E dward." kindly taking her hand. the happy self-complacency of his manner while enjoying so unfair a division of his mother's love and liberality. "We think NOW. Dashwood. Robert Ferra rs. "of ROBERT'S marrying Miss Morton. He laughed most immoderately. I was exceedingly pleased t o hear that Mrs. and raise her self-impor tance. earn ed only by his own dissipated course of life. from your manner of speaking." Elinor was silent. for Robert will now to all intents and purposes be considered as the eldest son. who. had heard of the living. After a few moments' chat. for he. was not less striking than it had been on HIM. has no choice in the affair. because I knew how much it must plea se you. I have good reason to think--indeed I have it from the best authority. all things considered. it must be the same to Miss Morton whether she marry Edward or Robert." Elinor. Ferrars considered it in that light--a very gratifying circumst ance you know to us all. quitted the room in quest of her. and that brother's integrity. and John was also for a short time silent.--and as to any thing else. I suppose." "Choice!--how do you mean?" "I only mean that I suppose. after a short pause. There is no doub t of your doing exceedingly well--quite as well. it would not have given her half the vexation that THIS does. John Dashwood. smiling at the grave and decisive importance of her brother's tone. or better. The idea of Edward's being a clergym . if not to gratify her vanity. Ferrars say it herself--but her daughter DID. my dear Elinor. by the entrance of Mr. and speaking in an awfu l whisper. Not that you have any reason to regret. there can be no difference.s in the world. to agitate her nerves and fill her mind. cal mly replied.

-.I remember her perfectly. The merest awkward country girl. you know. But had I been informed of it a few hours earlier--I think it is most probable --that something might have been hit on. It was a look. it is a most serious business. for unluckily.' That was w hat I said immediately. She even proceeded so far as to be concerned to fi nd that Elinor and her sister were so soon to leave town. and publishing the banns of marriage between John Smith and Mary Brown. My poor mother w as half frantic. You are making a most disgraceful connection. and gave no intelligence to him. 'conside r what you are doing. to interfere . as well-meaning a fellow perhaps. in the something li ke confusion of countenance with which she entered. I believe he has as good a heart as any in the kingdom. indeed!--Poor Edward!-he has done for himself completely--shut himself out for ever from all decent so ciety!--but. I never will see him again.--But we are not all born. diverted him beyond measure.--an exertion in which her husband. or elegance. as when it all burst forth. could not restrain her eyes from being fixed on him with a look that s poke all the contempt it excited.. feeling myself called on to act with resolution. I happened to drop in for ten minutes. 'My dear madam. Just the kind of girl I should suppose likely to captivate poor Edward. I could not believe it. and I saw quite enough of her. but it was too late THEN. at last. to do any t hing. that means might have been found. fo r it relieved her own feelings. and I. absolutely starved. and dissuade him from the match.--the same address. and almost without beauty. upon my soul. very well bestowed. He was recalled from wit to wisdom. once. Poor Edward! he is ruined for ever . who attended her into the roo m.' I should have said. while she waited in silence and immovable gravity. John Dashwood put an end to the subject. I certainly should have represented it to Edward in a very strong light. . to talk to him myself. it was always to be expected. I was not in the way at first. Elinor. but by his own sensibility. I am not in the least surprised at it. and knew nothing of it till after the breach had taken place. when it was not for me. Elinor could see its influence on her mind.-. and hung enamoured over her accents. immediately said to her.-. as any in the world. however. seemed to distinguish every thing that w as most affectionate and graceful. the conclusion of su ch folly." He had just settled this point with great composure.My mother was the first person who told me of it. I offered im mediately. I must say. You must not judge of h im. from his style of education." "Have you ever seen the lady?" "Yes. He must be sta rved.--that is certain. recovering from the affected lau gh which had considerably lengthened out the genuine gaiety of the moment--"but. I do not kn ow what you may intend to do on the occasion. you know. in sho rt. But now it is all too late. not by any reproof of hers. as soon as my mother related the affair to me." said he. and living in a small parsonage-house.--and whe n to that was added the fanciful imagery of Edward reading prayers in a white su rplice. from YOUR slight acquaintance. when the entrance of Mrs. and an attempt at cordiality in her behaviour to herself. But though SHE never spoke of it out of her own family. with the same powers.Poor fellow!--to see him in a circle of st rangers!--to be sure it was pitiable enough!--but upon my soul. while she was staying in this house. you know. but as for and I declare and protest to you I never was so shocked in my life. "We may treat it as a joke. 'My dear fellow.--Poor Edward!--His manners are certainly not the happiest in nature.' I cannot help thinking. Miss Dashwood. tha t if Edward does marry this young woman. as she had hoped to se e more of them. I found. he could conceive nothing more ridiculous. without style. I am extremely sorry for it--for I know him to be a very good-hearted creature . and such a o ne as your family are unanimous in disapproving. as I directly said to my mother.I was most uncommonly shocked.

was more positive. situated on a sloping lawn. and sh e looked forward with hope to what a few months of tranquility at Barton might d o towards restoring Marianne's peace of mind. of the promptitude with which he should c ome to see her at Delaford. busy in new engagements. and the acacia. at the moment of removal. was to join them at Cleveland soon after their arrival. could fondly rest on the fart hest ridge of hills in the horizon. when it came to the point. travelling more ex peditiously with Colonel Brandon. to meet. or wish to reside. and Mr. when they parted. the lawn was dotted over with timber. but the pleasure-grounds were tolerably extensive. Nor cou ld she leave the place in which Willoughby remained. For the convenience of Charlotte and her child. and like every oth er place of the same degree of importance. Cleveland was a spacious. the mountain-ash. bid adieu to the hou se in which she had for the last time enjoyed those hopes. and closer wood walk. assurance. f rom whom it would give her a moment's regret to be divided for ever. with a more warm. Very early in April. in which SHE could have no share. without shedding many tears. shut out the offices. from John to Elinor. She had no such object for her lingering thoughts to fix on. Marianne. now just beginning to be in beau ty. The second day brought them into the cheris hed. wanderi ng over a wide tract of country to the south-east. and confirming her own. led to the front . modern-built house. she quitted it again. stealing away through the winding shrubberies. and tolerably early in the day. comple ted the intercourse of the brother and sisters in town.--and a faint invitation from Fanny. for not only was it considered as her future home by her bro ther and Mrs. and a thick screen of them alt ogether. of all others. whi ch of all things was the most unlikely to occur. could not.CHAPTER 42 One other short call in Harley Street. in Willoughby. she would now least chuse to visit. Jennings. to come to Norland whenever it should happen to be in their way. her eye. without great pain. from its Grecian temple. and fancy that from their summits Combe Magn . and in the forenoon of the third they drove up to Cl eveland. which were now extinguished for ever. she left no creature behind. or the prohibited. was all that foretold any meeting in the country. they we re to be more than two days on their journey. it had its open shrubbery. a road of smooth gravel winding round a plantation. few as had been her hours of comfort in London. the house itself was under the guardians hip of the fir. for as such was it dwelt on by turns in Marianne's imagination. where. and that confidence. though less p ublic. while the others were busi ly helping Charlotte to show her child to the housekeeper. Palmer. gave her a pressing inv itation to visit her there. Elinor's satisfaction. but even Lucy. in which Elinor received her brother's c ongratulations on their travelling so far towards Barton without any expense. to gain a distant eminence. in which. interspersed with tall Lombardy poplars. It ha d no park. Their journey was safely performed.--a place. It amused her to observe that all her friends seemed determined to send her to Delaford. the two parties from Hanov er Square and Berkeley Street set out from their respective homes. she was ple ased to be free herself from the persecution of Lucy's friendship. a nd before she had been five minutes within its walls. by a ppointment. on the road. Marianne entered the house with a heart swelling with emotion from the consciou sness of being only eighty miles from Barton. and not thirty from Combe Magna. county of Somerset. she was grate ful for bringing her sister away unseen by Willoughby since his marriage. and eager as she had long been to quit it. an d new schemes. an d on Colonel Brandon's being to follow them to Cleveland in a day or two.

in the indulgence of such solitary r ambles. In such moments of precious.a might be seen. of wandering from place to plac e in free and luxurious solitude. they talked of the friends they had lef t behind. and Marianne. to make them feel themselves welcome. much better than she had expected. and only prevented from being so always. by too great an aptitude to fancy himself as muc h superior to people in general. in dawdli ng through the green-house. upon the whole. who had the kna ck of finding her way in every house to the library. The two gentlemen arrived the next day to a very late dinner. which ough t to have been devoted to business. Elinor had seen so little of Mr. but a heavy and settled rain even SHE could not fancy dry or pleasant weather for walking. as he must feel himself to be to Mrs. though evident was not disgusting. and idled away the mornings at billiards. however it might be avoided by the family in general. h ad not calculated for any change of weather during their stay at Cleveland. in her plan of employment abroad. Mrs. in lounging round the kitchen garden. on an e xcursion through its more immediate premises. tho ugh affecting to slight it. and in her heart was not sorry that she could lik . The morning was fine and dry. and wondered whether Mr. arranged Lady Middleton's engagements.--and in visiting her poultry-yard. she found fresh sources of merriment. Their party was small. her kindness. Jennings and Charlotte. and only occasionally rude to his wife and her mother. With great surprise therefore. did she find herself prevented by a settled rain from going out again after dinner. where. where the loss of her favourite plants. she rejoiced in tears of agony to be at Cleveland. and the rest of the morning was ea sily whiled away. fee ling all the happy privilege of country liberty. Jennings her carpet-work. Palmer's side that constant and friendly good humou r could do. She returned just in time to join the others as they quitted the house. in the disappointed hopes of her dairy-maid . and the hours passed quietly away. she found him very capable of being a pleasant companion. and in that little had seen so much va riety in his address to her sister and herself. or being stolen by a fox. The openness and heartiness of her manner more than atoned for that want of recollection and elegance which ma de her often deficient in the forms of politeness. He was nice in his eating. however little concerned in it. Nothing was wanting on Mrs. Palmer. uncertain in his hours. and Elinor could have forgiven every thing but her l augh. She liked him. was engaging. and Marianne. and Mrs. and a very welcome variety to their conversation. her folly. joined in their discourse. she resolved to spend almost every hour of eve ry day while she remained with the Palmers. that she knew not what to expect to find him in his own family. which a long morning of the same continued rain had reduced very low. unwarily exp osed. be cause it was not conceited. and listening to the gardener's lamentations upon blights. recommended by so pretty a face. and perhaps all over the grounds. they were marked. raised the laughter of Charlotte. or in the rapid decre ase of a promising young brood. For the rest of his character and habits. She found him. and as she returned by a different circuit to the house. with no traits at all unusual in his sex and time of life. and nipped by the lingering frost. however. examining the bloom upon its walls. by hens forsaking their nests. She had depended on a twilight walk to the Grecia n temple. Elinor. perfectly the gentleman in his behaviour to all his visitors. Palmer and Colonel Brandon would get farther than Reading that night. however. and an evening merely cold or damp w ould not have deterred her from it. invaluable misery. fond of his child. soon procured herself a book. affording a pleas ant enlargement of the party. Palmer had her c hild. as fa r as Elinor could perceive.

But as it was.--she watched his eyes. Jen nings's persuasion of his attachment. disappointed the expectation of bo th. Colonel Brandon was only astonished at her sister's composure. He came. were all declined. by engaging in her accustomary employments. urged the necessity of her immediate removal with her infant. Mrs. by pronouncing her disorder to have a putrid tendency. to try one or two of the simplest of the remedies. she now received intelligence f rom Colonel Brandon. such a notion had scarcely ever entered her head. perhaps. Palmer. and though encouraging Miss Dashwood to expect t hat a very few days would restore her sister to health. would force itself by increasing ailments on the concern of every body. a good night's rest wa s to cure her entirely. though treating their apprehensions as idle.--not sorry to be driven by the observation of his Epicurism. Though heavy and feverish. now looked very grave on Mr. weary and languid. as from the first. and the kind of confidant o f himself. to every inquiry replied th at she was better. except by Mrs. and would have been enough. talked to her a great deal of the parsonage at Delaford. and when Marianne. but all over the grounds. did not speak much in favour of her amendment. and confirming Charl otte's fears and caution. confessed herself unable to s it up. with a pain in her limbs. to the certainty and efficacy of sleep. she went ea rly to bed.e him no more. his readiness to conver se with her. yet. in her head and throat. or in lying. who had been into Dorsetshire lately. and who. which she was unable to read.--SHE could discover in them the quick feelings. and forcing proper medicines on her at night. Jennings. might very well justify Mrs. Jennings's advice. and told her what he meant to do himself towards removing them. to rest with complacency on the remembrance of Edw ard's generous temper. not merely on the dry gravel of the shrubbery. like Marianne. Of Edward. Harris's report. trusted. and tried to prove herself so. after persisting in rising. the beginning of a heavy cold. where there was something more of wildness than in the rest. and his deference for her opinion. Jennings's suggestion. simple taste. But a day spent in sitting shivering over the fire with a book in her hand. examined his patient. more and more indisposed. and allowing the word "infection" to pass hi s lips. and felt no real alarm. described it s deficiencies. Ferrars. though attending and nursing her the whole day. and the notice of herself. and a sore throat. agains t Marianne's inclination. had--assisted by the still greater imprudence of sitting in her wet shoes and stockings--given Marianne a cold so violent as. treating her at once as the disinterested friend of Mr. Jenn ings thought only of his behaviour. or at least of some of his concerns. Elinor was very ready to adopt Mrs. Palmer. who had been inclined from the first to think Marianne's complaint more serious than Elinor. and she could not help believin g herself the nicest observer of the two. and needless alarm of a lover. his open pl easure in meeting her after an absence of only ten days. as well as in every other particular.-His behaviour to her in this. on her baby's account. bec ause unexpressed by words. who. of sending for the Palmers' apothecary. on a sof a. found the a . believed Marianne his real favourite. A very restless and feverish night. and diffident feelings. however. where the trees were the oldest. when she went to bed. CHAPTER 43 Marianne got up the next morning at her usual time. and Mr. entirely escaped the latter lady's observation. and it was with difficulty that Elinor prevailed on her. at last. though for a day or two trifled with or denied. and the grass was t he longest and wettest. Two delightful twilight walks on the third and fourth evenings of her being the re. Prescriptions poured in from all quarters. and returned voluntarily to her bed. and especially in the most distant parts of them. and when. and his conceit.--and while his looks of anxious solicitude o n Marianne's feeling. while Mrs. and as usual. had n ot Elinor still. his selfishness. gave instant alarm to Mrs. to mak e her suspect it herself. and a cough.

Pal mer's. and Miss Dashwood was equally san guine. was persuaded at last by Colonel Brandon to perform his promise of following her. fo r to send the Colonel away while his love was in so much uneasiness on her siste r's account. however. and within an hour after Mr. except that there was no amendment. and he could not expel from his mind the persuasion that he should see Marianne no m ore. however. for on that day they were to have begun their journ ey home. Her departure. and Elinor found her on every occasion a most willing and active helpmate. still talked boldly of a speedy recovery. by her own attentive care. but the many hours of each day in which he was left entirely alone. though very unwill ing to go as well from real humanity and good-nature. for Mr. The next day produced little or no alteration in the state of the patient. with a much greater exertion. while Miss Dashwood was above with her sister. and whither she was almost equally urgent with her mother to accompany her. and as it gave her likewise no ioned her name. that she should want him to play at piquet of an evening. and while he was preparing to go. Jennings's entreaty was warmly seconded by Mr. and. she set off . desirous to share in all her fatigues. and of ende avouring. of material use. and often by her better experience in nursing. as from a dislike of appea ring to be frightened away by his wife. began to talk of going likewi se. and. in abou no surprise that she sa concern. &c. It gave her w nothing of Mrs. of every comfort. Mr. was not in a state of mind to resist their influence. in leaving behind him a person so well able to assist or advise Miss Dashwood in any emergence. Jennings. Mrs. Jennings. and Colonel Brandon. Palmer. to join her in a day or two. with her little boy and his nurse.nxiety and importunity of his wife too great to be withstood. who lived a few miles on the other side of Bath. . she thought. arrangements. with little variation. for the house of a near relation of Mr. but the expectation of the others was by no means so cheerful. would be to deprive them both. kept in ignorance of all these not that she had been the means of sending the owners of t seven days from the time of their arrival. of course. who was chiefly of use in listening to Mrs. languid and low from the nature of her malady. was fixed on. The little she said w as all in lamentation of this inevitable delay. He tried to r eason himself out of fears. Their party was now farther reduced. and t herefore telling him at once that his stay at Cleveland was necessary to herself . but for this unlucky illness . especially as Mrs. the refore. she urged him so strongly to remain. She knew Cleveland away. and make her believe. the kindness of Mrs. made every ailment severe.--Here. Jennings interposed most acceptably. with a kindness of heart which made Elinor really love her. as she THEN really believed herself. and her situation continued. that it wou ld be a very short one. Palmer. Palmer. were to have taken their mother by surprise on the following forenoon. were but too favourable for the admission of every melancholy idea. though Elinor tried to raise her spirits. Palmer's departure. Jenni ngs had determined very early in the seizure that Marianne would never get over it. Jennings's forebodings. the same. whither her husband prom ised. Harris's arrival. and feeling herse lf universally ill. which the different judgment of the apothecary seeme d to render absurd. she never ment Two days passed away from the time of Mr. who was gratifying the first wish of his own heart by a compliance. did not appea r worse. who attended her every day. attended the whole way by a servant of Mrs. to supply to her the place of the mother sh e had taken her from. at her earnest entreaty. Poor Marianne. Mrs. Harris. could not long even affect to demur. she certainly was not better. and the idea of what tomorrow would have produced. who seemed to feel a relief to himself. that he. Marianne was. could no longer hope that tomorrow would find her recovered. declared her resolut ion of not stirring from Cleveland as long as Marianne remained ill. Colo nel Brandon himself.

" cried Marianne. when Marianne. restless. from hence to Barton. with satisfaction. Her sister. lasted a considerable time. while attempti ng to soothe her. saw her. and caref ully administering the cordials prescribed. started hastily up. She thanked him with brief. Dashwood. Her pulse was much stronger. and anxious to observe the result of it herself. you know. and despatching a messenger t o Barton for her mother." cried the other. for when Mr. The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel Brandon--or such a compa nion for her mother." "But she must not go round by London. in making very light of the indisposition which de layed them at Cleveland.--how gratefully was it felt!--a companion whose judgment wo . he declared his patient materiall y better. Her fears and her difficulties were immediately before him. who wa tched. Her sl eep. she hastened down to the drawing-room. and assisting Marianne to li e down again. cried out. "but she will be here. Jennings. Harris.-"Is mama coming?--" "Not yet. was almost wishing to rouse her from so painful a slumber. where she knew he was generally to be found at a much later hour than the present. was recreating herself in the housekeeper's room. and as soon she had rung up the maid to take her place by her si ster. for with a readiness that seemed to speak the occasion. Mrs. in the same hurried mann er. rejoicing that in her letters to her mother. It is a great wa y. no confidence to attempt the removal o f:--he listened to them in silent despondence. and almost fixing on the time when Marianne would be ab le to travel. however. though not so quiet as Elinor wished to see it. the gloomy anticipations of both were almost done away. he had no courage. Elinor. and her sister." Elinor perceived with alarm that she was not quite herself. was a thought which immediately followed the resolution of i ts performance. and the se rvice pre-arranged in his mind. growing more heavy. if she goes by London. and. as to determine her on sending instantly for Mr. The repose of the latter became more and more disturbed. Harris arrived. suddenly awakene d by some accidental noise in the house. and. her maid. who was one of the principal nurses. sink at last into a slumber. and Elinor remained alone with Marianne. Her fears. she had pursued her own judgm ent rather than her friend's. Elinor made no resistance that was not easily overcome. To consult with Colonel Brandon on the best means of ef fecting the latter. her alarm increased so rapidly. But the day did not close so auspiciously as it began. she resolved to sit with her d uring the whole of it. It was no time for hesitation. with unremitting attention her continual change of posture. It was lower and quicker than ever! an d Marianne. still talking wildly of mama. and every symptom more favourable than on the preceding visit.--but her difficulties were instan tly obviated. from which she expected the most beneficial effects.On the morning of the third day however. Harris. and an order for post-horses directly . eagerly felt her pulse. he offered himself as the messenger who should f etch Mrs.Towards the evening Ma rianne became ill again. she wrote a few lines to her mother. and while he went to hurry off his servant with a message to Mr. still sanguine. was all cheerful ness. was willing to attribute the change t o nothing more than the fatigue of having sat up to have her bed made. though fervent gratitude. knowing nothing of any change in the patie nt. confirmed in every pleasant hope. and heard the frequent but inarticulate sounds of complaint which passed her lips. before it is long. with feverish wildness. went unusually early to bed.-. I hope. concealing her terror. "I shall never see her. and uncomfortable than be fore.

whose attendance must relieve. But he judged it unnecessary: he had still somethi ng more to try. in a lesser degree. by hints of wha t her mistress had always thought. and wre tched for some immediate relief. w ho. acted with all the firmness of a collect ed mind. and left both the patient and her anxious attendant more composed than he had found them. her conviction of her sister's danger woul d not allow her to offer the comfort of hope. for though acknow ledging a very unexpected and unpleasant alteration in his patient. before Mr. Her former apprehens ions. and she was known to have been greatly injured. her thoughts wan . Hour after hour passed away in sleeples s pain and delirium on Marianne's side. and to watch by her the rest of the night. Her heart was really grieved. his assistance. and talked of the relief which a fresh mode of treatment must procure.uld guide. Jennings hear in the morning of what had passed. was before her. an d whenever she mentioned her name. he would not allow the danger to be material. his presence.--the fever was unabated. and the servant who sat up with her. for some other advice. The horses arrived. that every thing had been delayed too long. and thou gh trying to speak comfort to Elinor. Jennings to be called. HE.--and as f or their mother. His opinion. reproaching herself for having trifled with so many days of illness. hurried into the carriage. and more than all. his manners. Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind. of whose success he was as confiden t as the last. made every necessary arrangement with the utmost despatch. at intervals. his fears in a moment. Harris was punctual in his second visit. Jennings's compassion sh e had other claims.--but he came to be disappointed in his hopes of what the last would produce. when the former--but not till after five o'clock--arrived . She had been for three months her companion. did Mrs. It was then about twelve o'clock. propos ed to call in further advice. but she was almost hopeless. and calculat ed with exactness the time in which she might look for his return. some more fresh application. Harris. and in the most cruel anxiety on Elinor' s. and with many reproaches for not being called to their aid . and Colonel Brandon only pressing her hand with a look of solemnity. with a confidence which. and his visit concluded with encouraging assurances which reached the ear. fancied that all relief might soon be in vain. would lessen it. scarcely stirring from her sister's bed. the early death of a girl so young. or to see her rational. and a fe w words spoken too low to reach her ear. With strong concern. it gave a pang to the heart of poor Elinor. Elinor. Jennings considered that Marianne might probably be t o HER what Charlotte was to herself. and in this state sh e continued till noon. Marianne's ideas were still. must hav e struck a less interested person with concern. and Marianne only more quiet--not more herself--remained in a heav y stupor. Her apprehensions once raised. now with greater reason restored. was commun icated to Elinor. meanwhile. or if HE could not come. She was on the point of sending again for Mr. paid by their exce ss for all her former security. made some little amends for his delay. particularly a favourite. He promised to call again in the course of three or four hours . and pictured to herself her sufferin g mother arriving too late to see this darling child. her sympathy in HER sufferings was very sin cere. but could not enter the heart of Miss Dashwood. so lovely as Marianne. fixed incoherently on her mother. She was calm. except w hen she thought of her mother. even before they were expecte d. was still under her care. Mr. and long unhappy. for she wou ld not allow Mrs. and she returned to her sister's apartment to wait for the arrival of the apothecary. The distress of her sister too. catching all. The rapid decay. left her no doubt of the event. when Mrs. His medicines had failed. however. and whose friendship might soothe her! --as far as the shock of such a summons COULD be lessened to her. only tortured her more. Harris appeared. It was a night of almost equal suffering to both. On Mrs. whatever he might feel.

and he declared her entirely o ut of danger. on her frequent and minute examination. comfort. and left her no moment of tranquillity till the arrival of Mr. calming every fear.--when his assurances. her skin. satisfying every inquiry of her enfeebled spirits. was particular ly welcome. . About noon. Half an hour passed away. at its conclusion.--but it led to no outward demonstratio ns of joy. was an idea to fill her heart with sensations of exquisite com fort. and to h er doting mother. with little intermission the whole aft ernoon. The Colonel. too!--perhaps scarcely less an object of pity!--Oh!--how slow was the progress of time which yet kept them in ignorance! At seven o'clock. Elinor could not be cheerful. but Elinor had no sense of fatigue. Harris at four o' clock. even to her friend--to fancy. occur to remind her of w hat anxiety was--but when she saw. Others even arose to confirm it. All within Elinor's breast was satisfaction. and she was not to be kept away from her sister an unnecessary instant. in some moments. Of breakfast she had been kept by her fears. who scrupled not to attribute the severity and danger of this attack to the many weeks of previou s indisposition which Marianne's disappointment had brought on. leaving Marianne still sweetly asleep. or at least not much later her mother would be relieved from the dreadful suspense in which she must now be travelling towards them. and admitted. all flattered Elinor with signs of amendment. and expand it in fervent gratitude. therefore. Her joy was of a different kind. though languid. allowed herself to tr ust in his judgment. no smiles. gaze. and allow HER to take her place by Mariann e. that every symptom of recovery continued. on examination. however. his felicitations on a recovery in her sister even surpassing his expectation.--and at last. At te n o'clock. The time was now drawing on. Jennings. gave her confidence. Jennings. she bent over her sister to watch--she hardly kne w for what. no capability of sleep at that moment abo ut her. and led to any t hing rather than to gaiety. Marianne was in every respect materially better. and the favourable symptom yet blessed her . she joined Mrs. the probability of an entire recovery. sleep. no words. Elinor felt all the reasonableness of the idea. watched. health. and examined it again and again. and saw Marianne at six o'clock sink into a quiet. Mrs. and watching almost every look and every breath. when Colonel Brandon might be expected back. she trusted. Mrs. ventured to commu nicate her hopes. told her self likewise not to hope.--she waited. Anxiety and hope now oppressed her in equal degrees. to take s ome rest before her mother's arrival. with an agitation more difficult to bury under exterior calmness. with such feelings of content as she brought to it. But it was too late. Jennings would have persuaded her. sil ent and strong. and Marianne fixed her eyes on her with a ratio nal. and soon with unequivocal cheerfulness.--and Elinor. s upplying every succour. Mrs. and to all appearance comfortable. steady. Jennin gs in the drawing-room to tea. Marianne restored to life. she silenced every dou bt. She continued by the side of her sister. conning over every injunction of distrust. to acknowledge a temporary revival. The pos sibility of a relapse would of course. and her spirits oppressed to the utmost by the conversation of Mrs. Hope had already entered. her lips. one suffering friend to another. friends. perhaps satisfied with the partial justification of her forebodings which had been found in their late alarm. and tears of joy. than all her foregoing distress. though forced. and fe eling all its anxious flutter. tried to keep her young friend from indulging a thought of i ts continuance.dering from one image of grief. Jennings.--and the present refreshmen t. Her breath. she began--but with a caution--a dread of disappointment w hich for some time kept her silent. from eating much. and it gave fresh misery to her reflections. and of dinner by their sudden reverse. to hope she co uld perceive a slight amendment in her sister's pulse. with unfeigned joy.

regarded it not. All that remained to be do ne was to be speedy." he cried with vehemence. My business i s with you. concluding that prudence required dispatch. and only you. Palmer was not i n the house." "No.Mrs. starting back with a look of horror at the sight of him. The night was cold and stormy. and so strong was t he persuasion that she DID. and retired to her own room to write letters and sleep. came across her." "Sit down. The knowledge of what her mother must be feeling as the carriage stopt at the door--of her doubt--her dread--perhaps her despair!--and of what SHE had to tel l!--with such knowledge it was impossible to be calm. I suppose. and. and that her acquie scence would best promote it. and the rain be at against the windows. for every present inconvenience. obeyed the fir st impulse of her heart in turning instantly to quit the room. Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficult to be calm.--she entered it. The wind roared round the house. Palmer and all his relat ions were at the devil. gave some explan ation to such unexpected rapidity. Your business cannot b e with ME." She hesitated. therefore. "I shall NOT stay. He took the opposite chair. forgot to tell you that Mr. But she had promised to hear him. After a moment's recollec tion. Had it been ten. to be satisfied of the truth. The servants. She instantly saw that her ears had n ot deceived her. sir. The possibility of Colonel Brandon's ar riving and finding her there. left her there again to her charge and her t houghts. when its action was suspended by his hastily advancing. assured her th at they were already in the house. "Miss Dashwood. it would not have turned me from the door. as at that momen t. and for half a minute not a word was said by eith er.--and saw only Willoughby. and her curiosity no less than her honor was engaged. that she moved into the adjoining dressing-closet and opened a win dow shutter. but Elinor. in a voice rather of command than supplication. to satisf y herself that all continued right. for half an hour--for ten minutes--I entreat you to stay. "that Mr. as she passed along an inner lobby." "With me!"--in the utmost amazement--"well." "Had they told me. and her hand was already on the lock.--be quick--and if you can--les s violent. in spite of the ALMOST impossibility of their being already come. and this. By th eir uncertain light she thought she could discern it to be drawn by four horses. sir. The clock struck eight. and I will be both. The flaring lamps of a carriage were immediately in view. while it told the excess of her poor mother's alarm. she hurried down stairs. Jennings therefore attending her up stairs into the sick chamber. all happiness within. Maria nne slept through every blast. . she knew not what to do. Jenni ngs's maid with her sister. The bustle in the vestibule. and the travellers--they had a rich reward in sto re." she replied with firmness. she walked silently towards the table. and saying. She rushed to the drawing-room. and sat dow n. therefore staying only till she could leave Mrs. CHAPTER 44 Elinor. Elinor would have been convinced that at that moment she heard a carriage driving up to the house.

and seemed not to hear her. a moment afterwards--"is out of danger . and forcing yourself upon my notice. "Your sister. is she out of danger. she said. th at though I have been always a blockhead." He rose up. that whatever other unpardonable folly might bring him to Clevela nd. will it be better recollected and explained to-morrow. I heard it from the servant." The steadiness of his manner. more and more at a loss to understand what he would be at. or is she not?" "We hope she is. and I certainly DO--that after what has pas sed--your coming here in this manner.-. for the past. and walked across the room."--said Elinor.--the strangeness of such a visit.--What is it. to ob tain something like forgiveness from Ma--from your sister.Whatever your business may be with me." he replied. with abruptness.-. to open my whole heart to you. I have not been always a rascal.Tell me honestly"--a deeper glow overspreading hi s cheeks--"do you think me most a knave or a fool?" Elinor looked at him with greater astonishment than ever." "I understand you. I advise you at present to return to Combe--I am not at leisur e to remain with you longer. perhaps--let us be cheerful together. Willoughby. "For God's sake tell me." said he. "Mr." He was sitting in an attitude of deep meditation. conv incing Elinor. and with this impression she immediately rose. I am very drunk. "Had I known as much half an hour ago--But since I AM here. with serious energy--"if I can. and of such manners. and the intelligence of his eye as he spoke. Mis s Dashwood--it will be the last time. I mean to offer some kind of explanation. requi res a very particular excuse.--I left London this morning at eight o'clock." "Is this the real reason of your coming?" "Upon my soul it is. and a voice perfectly calm. with a warmth which brought all the form . after a moment's recolle ction." "At Marlborough!"--cried Elinor. saying.A pint of porter with my cold beef at Marlboroug h was enough to over-set me. impatiently. "yes.-. She began to think th at he must be in liquor. and the only ten minutes I have spent out of my chaise since that time procured me a nuncheon at Marlboroug h. to make you hate me one deg ree less than you do NOW. He repeated the inquiry with yet greater eagerness."--was his answer.--"I have no time to spare. "Yes. and by convincing you. seemed no otherwise intelligible. he was not brought there by intoxication.--I a m in a fine mood for gaiety. Willoughby. you OUGHT to feel."--said he. "Mr. God be praised!--But is it true? is it really tru e?" Elinor would not speak."Pray be quick. sir."--speaking with a f orced vivacity as he returned to his seat--"what does it signify?--For once. that you mean by it?"-"I mean. with an expressive smile. some kind of apology.

trying to engage her regard. by insensible deg rees.Do no t let me be pained by hearing any thing more on the subject. "If that is all. even of yours. to avarice?--or. because I did not THEN know what it was to love. But have I ever known it?--We ll may it be doubted. and I had always been expensive. "I do not know. To avoid a comparative poverty. I have. and thought fulness on his own. M rs." "I insist on you hearing the whole of it. turning her eyes on him with the most angry conte mpt.--"how YOU may have accounted for my behaviour to your sister . by saying. Carele ss of her happiness. had I really loved. what is more. or what diabolical motive you may have imputed to me. and you shall hear eve ry thing. my vanity only was elevated by it. "believe yourself at one time a ttached to her?" "To have resisted such attractions. for you to relate. But she shall forgive me again. therefore. by raising myself to afflue nce.--it is worth the trial however. always in the habit of associating with pe ople of better income than myself. When I first became intimate in your family. I endeavoured. more pleasantly than I had ever done before." "Has she?"--he cried. that my heart should have been so in sensible! But at first I must confess. Mr. to have withstood such tenderness!--Is ther e a man on earth who could have done it?--Yes. to make myself pleasing to her. which her affection and her soc iety would have deprived of all its horrors. or even be fore." said he.--for Marianne DOES--she has LONG forgiven you. was not a thing to be thought Willoughby to her remembrance. and possibly far distant. Every year since my coming of age.Perhaps you will hardl y think the better of me. when I reflect on what it was.--But one thing may be said for me: even in that hor rid state of selfish vanity. and though the death of my old cousin. giving way to feelings w hich I had always been too much in the habit of indulging. and he r behaviour to me almost from the first. by eve ry means in my power."Then she has forgiven me befor e she ought to have done it. could I have sacrificed my feelin gs to vanity. after a pause of expectation on her side. can ever repr obate too much--I was acting in this manner. no other view in the acquaintance than to pass my time pleasantly while I was o bliged to remain in Devonshire. without any design of retu rning her affection. had added to my debts. lost every thing that could make it a blessing. yet that event being uncertain. was to set me free. I did not know the extent of the injury I meditated . cruelty--which no indignant. Smith. thinking only of my own amusement. was of a kind--It is astonishing. "It is hardly worth while. in the same eager tone. for.-. at this point. a little softened. Willoughby. and in spite of herself made her think him sin cere. withou t a thought of returning it. I found myself. "My fortune was never la rge." said Elinor. or for me to list en any longer." "You did then. could I have sacrificed hers?-.--and with a meanness.--NOW will you listen to me?" Elinor bowed her assent." he replied. I had no other intention. you may be satisfied already. selfishness. stopped him. To attach myself to your sister." Miss Dashwood. no contemptuous look. it had been for some time my intention to re-establish my circumstances by marrying a woman of fortune. and what SHE was. You r sister's lovely person and interesting manners could not but please me.-. and on more reasona ble grounds. I believe.But I have done it. Such a beginning as this cannot be followed by any thing. Miss Dashwood. and the happiest hours of my life were what I spent . sincerely fond of her.

and whose min d--Oh! how infinitely superior!"-"Your indifference. I did NOT know it. before I could have an oppor tunity of speaking with her in private--a circumstance occurred--an unlucky circ umstance. looking at her with an heightened colour and an enquiring ey e--"your particular intimacy--you have probably heard the whole story long ago. I believe. for a very sh ort time. however. recall the tenderness which." returned Elinor. a nd I often. I imagine by some distant relation. colouring likewise. and I have injured one. and openly assure her of an aff ection which I had already taken such pains to display. from an unwillingness to enter into an engagement while my circumstances were so greatly embarrassed. I do not mean to justify myself. of an affair. A discovery too k place. from day to day. But in the interim--in t he interim of the very few hours that were to pass. the very little portion of my time that I had bestowed on her. If the violence of her passions. that while you were enjoying yourse lf in Devonshire pursuing fresh schemes. I will not reason here--nor will I stop for YOU to expatiate on the absurdity. and common sense might have told h er how to find it out. The pu rity of her life. to defend myself. the formality of her notions. You must have known. to doubt the mora lity of my conduct in general. and with it all my comfort. however. in m y present visit. and my confusion may be guessed. always happy. Even THEN. and my feelings bl ameless." "Remember." "I have." he warmly replied. had the power of creating any return. as soon as I could engage her alone. whose a ffection for me--(may I say it?) was scarcely less warm than hers. her ignorance of the world--ever y thing was against me. At last. "I did not recollect that I had omitted to give her my direction. a connection--but I need not explain myself farther. with great self-reproach. to just ify the attentions I had so invariably paid her. towards that unfortunate girl--I must say it." "Well. Her affection for me deserved better treatment.with her when I felt my intentions were strictly honourable. Smith?" "She taxed me with the offence at once. But I have injured more than herself. my resoluti on was taken.--"Mrs. And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business. The event has proved. in the wanton cruel ty so evident on yours. upon my soul. SHE must be a saint. she was reduc ed to the extremest indigence. Smith had somehow or other been informed. however. She was previously disposed. when fully determined on paying my addresses to her . I wish--I heartily wish it had n ever been. The matter itself I could not deny. By one measure I might ha . I confess is beyond my compre hension."--here he hesitated and looked down. "from whom you received the account. however." he added. and was moreover discontented with the very littl e attention." cried Willoughby. and the worse than absurdity. any natural defect of understanding on her side. to ruin all my resolution. always gay. that I was a cunning fool. unpl easant to me as the discussion of such a subject may well be--your indifference is no apology for your cruel neglect of her. and I had determined. whose interest it was to depr ive me of her favour." "But. but at the same time c annot leave you to suppose that I have nothing to urge--that because she was inj ured she was irreproachable. of scrupling to engag e my faith where my honour was already bound. In short. Do not think yourself excused by an y weakness. it ended in a total breach. the moment of do ing it. and because I was a libertine. the weakness of her understanding--I do not me an. Could it be an impartial one? I acknowledge that her situation and her character ought to ha ve been respected by me. and vain was every e ndeavour to soften it. and hardening her heart anew aga inst any compassion for him. "I have heard it all. I allowed myself most improperly to put off. providing with great circumspection for a possible opportunity of making myself contemptible and wretched for ever. and what said Mrs. sir.

I could not bear to leave the country in a m anner that might lead you. as I walked from the cottage to Allenham. The sight of your dear siste r. I felt. beyond a doubt. In that point. though pitying saved myself. Miss Dashwood. which I was naturally inclined to feel. to heighten the matter. "a note would h ave answered every purpose. But whether I should wr ite this apology. Well. however." "Why did you call. and I remember how happy. before I could l eave Devonshire. her disappointment. left all that I loved. was really dreadful. and I even doubted whether I could see her ag ain. and I persuaded myself to think that nothing else in common pr udence remained for me to do. sir.--Then came your dear mother to torture me farther. You were all gone I do not know where. with all her kindness and confidence. Mr. and keep to my resolution. grew impatient for his depar ture. Smith and myself--and I resolved therefo re on calling at the cottage. delighted w ith every body! But in this.-. such confidence in me!--Oh. if I would marry Eliza.--It won't do. I found her alone. if I chos e to address her. My journey to town-travelling with my own horses. Thank Heaven! it DID t orture me. To see Ma rianne. who. reproachfully. a nd left her miserable--and left her hoping never to see her again. Elinor first spoke. I owe such a grudge to myself for t he stupid. The night following this affair--I was to go the next morning--was spent by me in deliberating on what my future conduct sho uld be. how gay were my spiri ts. and went to those to whom. or deliver it in person. and expensive society ha d increased." said Elinor." he replied. some apology was therefore necessary for my breaking this engagement. so firmly resolved within my self on doing right! A few hours were to have engaged her to me for ever.Why was it necessary to call?" "It was necessary to my own pride. "Well. when I told her that I was obliged to leave Devonshire so immediately--I never shall forget it--united too with such r eliance. her deep regret. I went. however. to suspect any part of what had really passed between Mrs. at best. In the height of her morality. Her sor row. I had left her only the evening before. for I went. I had reason to believe myself secure of my present wife. so fully. Willoughby?" said Elinor. in my way to Honiton. I was miserable. and in all likelihood much more than was justified by the future. our last interview of friendship. I approached her with a sense of guilt that almost took from me the power of dissembling. I saw her. A heavy scene however awaited me. I was only indifferent. satisfied with myself. the picture so soothing!--oh. rascally folly of my own heart. was a point of long debate. that all my past sufferings under it are only triumph and exultation to me now. God!--what a hard-hearted rascal I was!" They were both silent for a few moments. impatiently. and therefore so tediously--no creature to speak to--my own reflections so cheerful--when I looked forward every thing so invitin g!--when I looked back at Barton.--I was engaged to dine with you on that very day. good woman! she offered to forgi ve the past. you cannot have an idea of the comfor t it gives me to look back on my own misery. I cannot think of it. "Did you tell her that you should soon return?" "I do not know what I told her. and. or get the better of those false ideas of the neces sity of riches. "and this is all?" . or the rest of the neighbourhood. That could not be--and I was formally dismi ssed from her favour and her house. "less than was due to the past. my thorough conviction of her attachment to me--it was all insufficient to out weigh that dread of poverty. it was a blessed journey!" He stopped. as the event declared. and saw her miserable. My affection for Marianne . would be dreadful. I undervalued my own mag nanimity. The struggle was great--but it ended too soon.

I say awakened. every word was--in the hackneyed metaphor which their dear writer. fancying myself indifferent to her. Willoughby. The next morning brought another short note from Marianne--still affectionate. I watch ed you all safely out of the house one morning. To retreat was impossib le. however. judging it wi ser to affect the air of a cool. common acquaintance than anything else. the first day of his coming. Mr. He asked me to a party. a most invariably prevailing des ire to keep out of your sight. a dance at his house in the ev ening. and the day after I had c alled at Mrs. which had undergone many changes in the course of this extraord inary conversation. that in spite of the many. Not aware of their being in town. very painful. If you CAN pity me.--have you forgot what passed in town?-. as the carriage drove by. would forbid--a dagger to my heart. Relate only what in your conscience you think necessary for me to hear.--Thunderbolts and d aggers!--what a reproof would she have given me!--her taste. awakened all my remorse. and as full of faith in the constancy of mine as ever . Lodging as I did in Bond Street. Miss Dashwood." "Marianne's note. because time and London. But I thought of her. every moment of the day. and nothing but the most constant watchfulness on my side. overcoming every scruple. trifling business. To know that Ma rianne was in town was--in the same language--a thunderbolt. had in some measure quieted it. confiding--everything that could make MY conduct most hateful. to trust myself near him." "Watched us out of the house!" "Even so. how often I w as on the point of falling in with you." "When the first of hers reached me (as it immediately did. and for some time I was even determined not to call in Berkeley Street. talking to myself of our past attachment as a mere idle. You would be surprised to hear how often I watched you. not to be expressed. With my head and heart full of your sister. many weeks we had been separated. could have separated us so long."Ah!--no.--and I am sure they are dearer. for I was in town th e whole time.--but at last. business and dissipation. and left my name. as well as everybody else who was likely to prove an acquaintance in common. was to avoid you both. I saw every note that passed. "This is not right. I was forced to play the happy lover to another woman!--Those three or four weeks were worse . her opinions--I bel ieve they are better known to me than my own.--Remember that you are married. I could not answer it. and I had been growing a fine hard ened villain.) what I felt is--in the common phrase.But t his note made me know myself better. I felt that she was infinitely dearer to me than any other woman in the world. there was har dly a day in which I did not catch a glimpse of one or other of you. by assuring me that I was still as dear to her as in former d ays. Jennings's.--Every line. I avoided the Mi ddletons as much as possible. by secretly sayi ng now and then. and that I was using her infamously. I blundere d on Sir John. I have entered many a shop to avoid your sight. and chusing to fancy that she too must have become indifferent to me. pity my si tuation as it was THEN. All that I had to do. in a m ore simple one--perhaps too simple to raise any emotion--my feelings were very.That infamous letter--Did she shew it you?" "Yes. I should have felt it too certain a thing. shrugging up my shoulders in proof of its be ing so. I tried--but could not frame a sentence. artless. I believe. was now softened again.'-.--yet she felt it her duty to check s uch ideas in her companion as the last. But eve ry thing was then just settled between Miss Grey and me. were she here. she was as con stant in her own feelings. 'I shall be heartily glad to hear she is well married. I believe.--Had he NOT told me as an inducement that you and your sister were to be there. and silencing every reproach." Elinor's heart. i ntending by that to preserve myself from her farther notice. open. I sent no answer to Marianne.

Her three notes--unluckily they were all in my pocketbook. the elegance of t he paper." A short pause of mutual thoughtfulness succeeded. certainl y out of danger?" "We are assured of it. they already think me an unprincipled fello w. or I should have denied their existence. immediately gave her a suspicion. broke it thus: "Well. jealous as the devil o n the other hand. Her wretchedness I could have borne.-." "But the letter. it does not signify. You saw what she said. but I had only the credit of servilely copying such sentences as I was as hamed to put my name to. and hoarded them for ever--I was forced to put them up. Your sister is certainly better. you were forced on me.--and her letter. It happe ned to catch Sophia's eye before it caught mine--and its size. what did it signify to my character in the opinion of Marianne and her friends. beautiful as an angel on one side. who saw her last in this world. THAT in particular." "Your poor mother. She was before me. and wha t a sweet figure I cut!--what an evening of agony it was!-. but her passion--her malice--At all events it must be appeased. Mr. with some others. constantly before me. It was a ho rrid sight!--yet when I thought of her to-day as really dying. I copied my wife's words. her money was necessary to me. which is delightful in a woman one loves. the hand-writing altogether. was brought to me there from my lodgings. and p arted with the last relics of Marianne. it is over no w. God!--holdin g out her hand to me. too!--doting on Marianne. and made her more jealous than ever. and what had passed within her observation the preceding evening had marked who the young lady was. The original was all her own--her own happy thoughts an d gentle diction. at last. every thing in preparat ion. your own letter. And. and whether I did it with a bow or a bluster was of little i mportance.Marianne. any t hing was to be done to prevent a rupture. asking me for an explanation. My business was to declare myself a scoundrel.than all. therefore. She read what made her wretched." "Yes. have you any thing to say abo ut that?" "Yes. I was breakfasting at the Ellisons. in short--what do y ou think of my wife's style of letter-writing?--delicate--tender--truly feminine --was it not?" "Your wife!--The letter was in your own hand-writing. But what could I do!--we were engaged. the day almost fixed--But I am talking like a fool. and could not even kiss them. Your sister wrote to me again. Well. And the lock o . last l ook I ever had of her. looking all that was--Well. in a sort of desperate carelessness. Preparation!--day!--In honest words. Affecting that air of playfulness.--THAT was the last. in the same look and hue. this letter will only make them think me a blackguard one. Some va gue report had reached her before of my attachment to some young lady in Devonsh ire.' Such were my reas onings. as I travel led. you know. yes. Willoughby. Willoughby first rousing hims elf. calling me Willoughby in such a tone!--Oh. as I need not tell you. it was a kind of comfort to me to imagine that I knew exactly how she would appear to those. let me make haste and be gone. but not befor e I had seen Marianne's sweet face as white as death.'I am ruined for ever in their opinion--' said I to myself--'I am s hut out for ever from their society. the ver y next morning.Such an evening!--I ran away from you all as soon as I could. She was well paid for her impudence . as. she opened the letter directly. with those bewitching eyes f ixed in such speaking solicitude on my face!--and Sophia. and read its contents.-.--the last manner in which she appeared to me. And after all. and in a situation like mine. in what language my ans wer was couched?--It must have been only to one end.

A s bluntly as he could speak it. therefore. Her thoughts were silently fixed on the irreparable inju ry which too early an independence and its consequent habits of idleness. scorning. Jennings declared her danger most imminent--the Palmers are all gone off in a fr ight. It was not forced on you. Now." "Last night. full of indignation against me. His heart was softened in seeing mine suffer.What I felt was dreadful!--My r esolution was soon made. and came down to Combe Magna to be happy. that at this moment she is dearer to me than ever." "Will you repeat to your sister when she is recovered.--I was too much shocked to be able to pass myself off as insensible ev en to the undiscerning Sir John. and luxury. Tell her of my misery and my penitence--tell her that my heart was never inconstant to her. or she would not have marrie d you. and concern for your sister. in Drury Lane lobby. while her voi ce. She must be attached to you. either of Mrs." "I will tell her all that is necessary to what may comparatively be called. hating me in her latest moments--for how c ould I tell what horrid projects might not have been imputed? ONE person I was s ure would represent me as capable of any thing-.You have proved yoursel f. &c. more gentle. Willoughby. I ran against Sir John Middleton.-. which wa s now searched by Madam with the most ingratiating virulence. You have proved your heart less wicked.f hair--that too I had always carried about me in the same pocket-book.Am I--be it only one degree--am I less guilty in your opi nion than I was before?--My intentions were not always wrong. Your wife has a claim to your politeness. and at eight o'clock this morning I was in my carriage. Have I explained a way any part of my guilt?" "Yes. he almost shook m e by the hand while he reminded me of an old promise about a pointer puppy. very blamable. on the whole. But you have not explained to me the particular reason of your coming now." "You are very wrong." "Do not talk to me of my wife. Let me be able to fancy that a better knowledge of my heart.--That he ha d cut me ever since my marriage. You had made your own choice. To treat her with unkindness. Mr. believing me the g reatest villain upon earth. less faulty than I had believed you. What I felt on hearing that your sister was dying--and dying too. the happiness. m arried we were. will draw from her a more spo ntaneous. an d if you will. had made in the mind. "you ought not to s peak in this way. dissip ation.--She knew I had no regard for her when we married. You tell me that she has forgiven me already. and when he saw who I was--for the first time these two months--he spoke to me.--And now do you pity me.--Well. could not resist the temptation of telling me what he knew ought to--though probably he did not think it WOULD--vex me horridly.-. the character.--the dear lock--al l. and of my present feelings. nor how you heard of her illness. however. forgiveness. of a man . to speak of her slightingly is no atonement to Marianne--nor can I suppose it a relief to your own conscience. what I have been telling you?--Let me be a little lightened too in her opinion as well as in yours. honest. to y our respect. he told me that Marianne Dashwood was dying of a putrid fever at Cleveland--a letter that morning received from Mrs. stupid soul. Now you know all. in spite of herself. and afterwards returne d to town to be gay. every memento was torn from me. Willoughby or my sister. a nd so much of his ill-will was done away. betrayed her compassionate emotion." said Elinor. much less wicked. that when we parted." said he with a heavy sigh. more natural."She does not dese rve your compassion. you have certainly removed something--a little." Elinor made no answer. less dignified. Miss Dashwood?--or have I said all this to no purpose?-. you r justification. But I hardly know--the misery that you have infl icted--I hardly know what could have made it worse. at least. I had seen without surprise or resentment. his good-natured.

" He held out his hand. started up in preparation for going. left her sister to misery." "You are very wrong. it may be the means--it may pu t me on my guard--at least. against every better interest he had outwardly torn himsel f. The attachment. for some time after he left her. had invol ved him in a real attachment. I shall now go away and live in dread of one event. while seeking its own guilty triumph at the expense of another." said he. I am allowed to think that you a nd yours feel an interest in my fate and actions.--that she forgave. CHAPTER 45 Elinor. he almost ran out of the room. wid . rousing himself from a reverie at least equally painful. His answer was not very encouraging. governed every thought. for some time even after the sound of his carriage had died away. She could not refuse to give him hers. who. Each faulty propensity in leading him to evil. Good bye. from thence to town in a day or two . pitied. now. from which against hon our. however. which extravagance. "As to that. Domestic happiness is out of the question. was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to himself of a far more incurable natur e. had required to be sacrificed. of all others. and leaning against the mantel-piece as if forgetting he was to go. by shewing that where I have most injured I can least forgive. Marianne to be sure is lost to me for ever. against feeling.who. and the connection. I could least bear--but I will not stay to rob myself of all your compassionate goodwill. with little scruple. And if that some one should be the ve ry he whom. She can never be more lost to you than she is now. Were I even by any blessed chance at liberty again--" Elinor stopped him with a reproof. "And you DO think something better of me than you did?"--said he. and a feeling. I have business there. it may be something to live for. when no longer allowable. I must be off. "I must rub through the world as well as I can. If.--he pressed it wit h affection. V anity. The world had made him extrav agant and vain--Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish. united a disposition naturally op en and honest. Elinor assured him that she did. or at least its offspring. to every advantage of person and talents. Good bye." "What do you mean?" "Your sister's marriage.--God bless you!" And with these words. From a reverie of this kind she was recalled at the end of some minutes by Wi lloughby. fo r the sake of which he had. remained too much oppressed by a crowd of ideas." "Are you going back to town?" "No--to Combe Magna."--he replied--"once more good bye. "Well. and said-"There is no use in staying here. letting it fa ll. affectionate temper. wished him well--wa s even interested in his happiness--and added some gentle counsel as to the beha viour most likely to promote it. nec essity. had led him likewise to punishment." "But she will be gained by some one else.

with a look which spoke at once her gratitude. Then. whom only half an hour ago she had abhorred as the most worthle ss of men. she ran immediately into the hall. Elinor's heart was full. and Marianne. no v oice even for Elinor. submitte d readily to the silence and quiet prescribed by every nurse around her. insta ntly gave the joyful relief. however. as she had been before b y her fears. Short was the time. Willoughby. . she was again called down stairs by the sound of another carriage. when the life of a child was at stake. the present. whose terror as they drew near the house had produced almost the conviction of Marianne's being no more. and her conviction of his sharing with herself in the bliss of the moment. excited a degree of commisera tion for the sufferings produced by them. however. and her mother's expected arrival. but SHE. she found her just awaki ng.--Eag er to save her mother from every unnecessary moment's horrible suspense. and made her only fea rful of betraying herself to her sister. Dashwood had recovered herself. Dashwood. the future. and Elinor.--and her mother. She was supported into the drawing-room between her daughter and he r friend. S he felt that his influence over her mind was heightened by circumstances which o ught not in reason to have weight. now acquitted herself for having jud ged him so harshly before. long. a regret. and many hours of the most wearing anxiety seemed to make requisite. satisfied in knowing her mother was near her. Da shwood WOULD sit up with her all night. in compliance with her mothe r's entreaty. Bu t she felt that it was so. dreaded what its effect on Ma rianne might be. Willoughby's visit. catching it with all her usual war mth. which one night entirely sleepless. waiting neither for salutation nor inquiry. Elinor's delight. was constantly in her thoughts. as she saw wha t each felt in the meeting. she would not but have heard his vindication for the world. as she soon acknowledged within herself--to his wishes than to his merits. unhappiness. threw her altogether into an agitat ion of spirits which kept off every indication of fatigue. "poor Willoughby. She dreaded the performance of it. Willoughby's death. and danger. Marianne' s safety. embra ced Elinor again and again.--but Mrs. to see Marianne was her first d esire. with a tenderness. remembering Colonel Brandon. in spite of all his faults. felt that to HIS sufferings and his constanc y far more than to his rival's. and conscious of being too weak for conversation. was in a moment as much overcome by her happiness. and in two minutes she was with her beloved child. which made her think of him as now sep arated for ever from her family. He shared it. and now blamed. reproved herself. was only checked by an apprehension of its robbing M arianne of farther sleep. rendered dearer to her than ever by absence. and wished any thing rather than Mrs. to thi nk even of her sister. he.--and there. could be even pruden t. But the rest. and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower. The past. was kept off b y irritation of spirits. Mrs. But her promise of relating it to her sister was inva riably painful. Willoughby." as she now allowed herse lf to call him. Dashwood could be calm. by that person of uncommon attraction. but of which sadness was the general result. went to bed. had no voice to inquire after her. in which t hat fear could affect her. which it was not even innocent to indulge. refreshed by so long and sweet a sleep to the extent of her hopes. the reward of her sister was due. and reached the outward door just in time to receive and support her as she entered it. and lively manner which it was no merit to possess. When at last she returned to the unconscious Marianne. long before she could feel his influence less. in a silence even greater than her own. rather in proporti on. shedding tears of joy. though still unable to speak.ely differing in themselves. for within half an hour after Willoughby's leaving th e house. As soon as Mrs. doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be hap py with another. Willoughby. turning from her at intervals to press Colonel Brand on's hand. that o pen. and by th at still ardent love for Marianne. affectionate. Mrs.

affection for Marianne. I should have fixed o n Colonel Brandon's marrying one of you as the object most desirable. Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which. one of the happiest women in the world." . nor witness its proofs without sometimes wondering whether her mother ever recol lected Edward. "At last we are alone. she passed "He opened his whole heart to me yesterday as we travelled. that the Careys were then expected every moment to fetch Mar garet away. It came out quite u nawares. such sincerity!--no one can be deceived in HIM.--he could not conceal his distress. It wa s thus imparted to her. or feel away by her imagina inquiry." "Colonel Brandon's character. He has told me so himself. as the world now goes.--but her mother must always be carried tion on any interesting subject.--and in her recovery she had yet another source of joy unthought of by Elinor. for so great was her uneasiness about Marian ne. Dashwood by her own previous alarm. Elinor perceived. tender.The shock of Colonel Brandon's errand at Barton had been much softened to Mrs. and had so far settled her journey before his arrival. infinitely surpassing anything that Willoughby ever felt o r feigned. or I should wonder at your composure now. Da shwood's looks and spirits proved her to be. Dashwood. And I beli eve Marianne will be the most happy with him of the two. as much more warm. "His regard for her. "You are never like me. you do not yet know all my happiness. My Elinor. is well estab lished. you may well believe." said Elinor. Had I sat down to wish for any possible good to my family. surprised and not surpr ised. as soon as any opportunity of private conference between them occurred. I saw that it equalled my own. but the natural embellishments of her mother's active fancy. not thinking at all. her own mistaken judgment in encourag ing the unfortunate attachment to Willoughby. as she repeatedly declared herself. "as an excellent man. I suppose--giving way t o irresistible feelings." Her daughter. and the brilliant cheerfulness of Mrs. not the professions of Colo nel Brandon. Elinor could not hear the declaration. Colonel Brandon loves Marianne. that she had already determined to set out for Cleveland on that very day. because satisfied t characters. and he perhaps. But Mrs. had contributed to place her. ever since the first moment of seeing her. He has loved her. would not jus tify so warm a sympathy--or rather. constant. hat none founded on an impartial consideration of their age. ings. Marianne continued to mend every day. was led away by the exuberance of her j oy to think only of what would increase it. as more sincere or constant--which ever we are to call it--has subsisted through all the knowledge of dear Marianne's unhappy prep ossession for that worthless young man!--and without selfishness--without encour aging a hope!--could he have seen her happy with another--Such a noble mind!--su ch openness. dear Elinor. my Elinor." Elinor was half inclined to ask her reason for thinking so. feeling by turns both pleased and pained. as she now began to feel.--not the language. however. which fashioned every thing delightful to her as it chose. could talk of nothing but my child. as her mother was unwilling to take her where there might be infecti on. I. trusting to the temperate account of her own d isappointment which Elinor had sent her." Here. made me acquainted with his earnest. was all silent attention. could be given. w ithout waiting for any further intelligence. thinking that mere friendship. and therefore instead of an it off with a smile. quite undesignedly.

you have not yet made him equall y sanguine. that if Marianne can be happy with him. are all in his favour." "No." answered Elinor. I shall be as ready as yourself to think our connection the greatest blessing to us in the world." . Time. I tell him. Yet after a time I DID say. and in all probability. however. the Colonel's manners are not only more pleasing to me than W illoughby's ever were.--indeed there certainly MUST be some small house or cottage close by. Dashwood. th at would suit us quite as well as our present situation. as she will be with Colonel Brandon. Marianne would yet never have been so happy with HIM. or even to be pleased by it. I could not then talk of hope to him or to myself.-. Marianne might at that moment be dying.--if you remember. he is quite mistaken. as I trusted she might.--He thinks Marianne's affection too deeply rooted for any change in it und er a great length of time. he has been long and intima tely known. their genuine attention to other people. But his coming for me as he did. "does not rest on ONE act of kindnes s. "At Delaford. but her dissent was n ot heard. there is something much more pleasing in his countenance." "His character. is enough to prove him one of the worthiest of men. and therefore gave no offence. and often ill-timed of the other. "even if I remain at Barton.--Her daughter could not quite agree with her. to which his affection for Marianne.--for I hear it is a large v illage. will do everything. though lately acquired. that had Willoughby turned out as really amiable. And his person. continued. such ready friendship. as he ha s proved himself the contrary. and even my own knowledge of him. as to make his character and principle s fixed. a very little time. There.--and his disposition. His age is only s o much beyond hers as to be an advantage. Their gentleness. To Mrs. she will be within an easy distance of me. I am very sure myself. however. is too diffi dent of himself to believe. M y partiality does not blind me. a nd their manly unstudied simplicity is much more accordant with her real disposi tion. His was an involuntary confidence.--in Willoughby's eyes at times." added Mrs. "And his manners. an irrepressible effusion to a soothing friend--not a n application to a parent. without waiting for her assent. were humanity out of the case."I know it is. is exactly the very one to m ake your sister happy.--but her mother. What answer di d you give him?--Did you allow him to hope?" "Oh! my love. however. and even supposing her heart again free. than the liveliness--often artificial. with such active. to the Middletons. they equally love and respect him. Jennings."--replied her mother seriously. I have repeated it to him more fully." "To judge from the Colonel's spirits. that with such a difference of age and disposition h e could ever attach her.His own me rits must soon secure it. since our delightful se curity. my greatest happiness would lie in promoting their marriage. for at first I was quite overcome--that if she lived. and so highly do I value and este em him. I shou ld be the last to encourage such affection." Elinor could NOT remember it. have given him every encouragement in my power. "or after such a warning. his manners too.-There was always a something. but they are of a kind I well know to be more solidly att aching to Marianne. and since our arrival. is very considerable. would hav e prompted him." She paused. I am well convinced. which I did not like. he certainly is not so handsome as Willoughby--b ut at the same time. But he did not ask for hope or encouragement.--Mariann e's heart is not to be wasted for ever on such a man as Willoughby.

The day of separation and departure arrived. the probable rec urrence of many past scenes of misery to his mind. and bidding Colonel Brandon farewell with a cordi ality of a friend. one so earnestly grateful. or t he consciousness of its being known to others. and Colon el Brandon was soon brought. for the better accommodation of her sick child. if not equally indispensable. . in Elinor's conjecture. and her mother's presen ce in aid. of which he seemed anxious that she should engross at least half. At the end of another day or two. what it really is. not less watchful of what passed than her daughter. Jennin gs. Jennings was summoned to her chaise to t ake comfort in the gossip of her maid for the loss of her two young companions. it proceeded so smoothly as to enable her to remove. was such. Marianne growing visibly stronger every twelv e hours. to talk of the travellers. Jennings could not quit Cleveland during the Dashwoods' stay. engaged with pleasure to redeem it by a visit at the cottage. whose active good-nature made her friendly and hospitable for other people a s well as herself. and she soon discovered in his me lancholy eye and varying complexion as he looked at her sister. On HER measures depended those of her two frien ds. I am sure it must be a good one. CHAPTER 46 Marianne's illness. while in the actions and words of Marianne she persuad ed herself to think that something more than gratitude already dawned. so fu ll of respect and kind wishes as seemed due to her own heart from a secret ackno wledgment of past inattention. brought back by that resembla nce between Marianne and Eliza already acknowledged. and in receiving the pale hand which she immediately held out to him. saw nothing in the Colonel's behaviour but what arose from the most simple and self-evident sensations. and the Colonel." Here they were interrupted by the entrance of a third person. Mrs. and yet in wi shing it. Dashwood was prevailed on to accept the us e of his carriage on her journey back. till Mrs. Palmer's dressing-room. bega n to talk of removing to Barton. Colonel Brandon was invited to visit her. by their united request. in seeing her altered looks. in the course of a few weeks. Dashwood. had not been long enough to m ake her recovery slow. Dashwood and Elinor t hen followed. When there. the sickly skin. to consider his own abode there as equally determinate. Mrs. and Colonel Brandon immediately afterwards took his solitary way to Delaford. to wish success to her friend. "His fortune too!--for at my time of life you know. into Mrs. and Marianne. and the warm ac knowledgment of peculiar obligation. the posture of reclining weakness. Mrs. and therefore watching to very different effect . At his and Mrs. urged equally by her own and her daughter's wishes. --and though I neither know nor desire to know. and feel their own dullness. for she was impatient to pour forth her thanks to him for fetching her mother. at the joint invitation of Mrs. though weakening in its kind. Mrs. after taking so part icular and lengthened a leave of Mrs. was carefully assisted by him into the carriage. Dashwood. natural strength. Jennings. as. to feel a pang for Willoughby. Dashwood and Mrs. Mrs. everybody cares about THAT. at her own particular request. within four days after the arrival of the latter. but with a m ind very differently influenced. Jenn ings's united request in return. and Elinor withdr ew to think it all over in private. must arise from something more than his affection for Marianne. and the others were left by themselves. His emotion on entering the room. and with youth.Poor Elinor!--here was a new scheme for getting her to Delaford!--but her spiri t was stubborn. and now strengthened by the hollow eye.

which. s he saw only an emotion too natural in itself to raise any thing less tender than pity. To Elinor.The Dashwoods were two days on the road. Our own library is too well known t o me." Elinor honoured her for a plan which originated so nobly as this.--She shook her hea d. and Marianne bore her journey on both. and from that time till dinner I shall di vide every moment between music and reading. though smilin g to see the same eager fancy which had been leading her to the extreme of langu id indolence and selfish repining. By reading only six hours a-d ay. "we will take long walks together every day. and each found their reward in her bodily ease. put the music aside. and am deter mined to enter on a course of serious study. and her calmnes s of spirits. She." said she. I mean never to be later in rising than six. indeed. now saw with a joy. in being the result as she trusted of serious reflection. now at work in introducing excess into a sche me of such rational employment and virtuous self-control. must eventually lead her to contentment and cheerfulness. who had seen her week after week so constantly suffering. with a mind and body alike strengthened by rest. to be resorted to for any thing beyond mere amusement. and in its unobtrusiveness entitled to praise. the observation of the latter was particularly grateful . as the only happiness worth a wish. I have formed my plan. She went to it. and we will often go the old ruins of the Priory. anticipating the pleasure of Margaret's return. the mos t solicitous care could do to render her comfortable. After dinner she would try her piano-forte. and closed the instrument again. and turning away her face from their notice. as if determined at once to accustom herself to the sight of every object with which the remembrance of Wil loughby could be connected. she grew silent and thoughtful. she looked and spoke with mor e genuine spirit. and feared she had that to communicate which might again unsettle the mind of . without essential fatigue. But there are many works well worth reading at the Park. as she assisted Marianne from the carriage. some painful recollection. and after running over the keys for a minute. oppressed by an guish of heart which she had neither courage to speak of. In the whole of her subseq uent manner. of their mutual pursuits an d cheerful society. The next morning produced no abatement in these happy symptoms. for no sooner had they entered their common sitting-room. and talking of the dear family party which would then be restored.--She said little. We will walk to the farm at the edge of the down. an apparent composur e of mind. she traced the direction of a mind awakened to reasonable exertion. Elinor could neither wonder nor blame. was the office of each wat chful companion. Every thing that the most zealous affection.--That would not do. declaring howeve r with firmness as she did so. and bearing on its outwa rd leaf her own name in his hand-writing. and see how the children go on. and I have recovered my strength. and when she saw. but the music on which her eye first rested was an opera. I know the summer will pass happily away. complained of feebleness in her fingers. nor fortitude to conce al. it never passed away without th e atonement of a smile. I shall gain in the course of a twelve-month a great deal of instruction whi ch I now feel myself to want. and try to trace its foundations as far as we are told they once rea ched. and entered on scenes of which every field a nd every tree brought some peculiar. I know we shall be happy. As they approached Barton. we will walk to Sir John's new planta tions at Barton Cross. than Marianne turned her eyes around it with a look of resolute firmness. but every sentence aimed at cheerf ulness. that she should in future practice much. But here. sat earnestly gazin g through the window. Her smile however chan ged to a sigh when she remembered that promise to Willoughby was yet unfulfilled . containing some of their favourite duets. On the contrary . "When the weather is settled. and there are others of more modern produc tion which I know I can borrow of Colonel Brandon. that she had been crying. and the Abbeyland. procured for her b y Willoughby. which no other could equally share. and though a sigh sometimes escaped her.

But at last a soft. exactly there. "on that projecting mound. I compare it with yours. v ery fickle. in the lane before the house. she resolved to wait till her sister's health were more secure. was authorised to walk as long as she co uld without fatigue. but presently reviving she added. you think you should be easy. Elinor?"--hesitatingly it was said."-Elinor tenderly invited her to be open. "I am thankful to find that I can look with so little pain on the spot!--shall we ever talk on that subject. I hope. I do not mean to talk to you of what my feelings have been for him." said Marianne. genial morning appeared. My peace of mind is doubly involved in it. before the weather was fine enough for an invalid like herself to venture out. or postponing it till Marianne were in stronger health .--and they had advanced only so fa r beyond the house as to admit a full view of the hill. if I could be satisfied on one point. but what they are NOW. as I ought to do." "Do you compare your conduct with his?" "No. He will suf fer enough in them. leaning on Elinor's arm. the important hill behin d. not ALWAYS deceiving me. I compare it with what it ought to have been. very.-but above all. when pausing with her eyes turned towards it.--th ere I fell. "As for regret.--At present.--for not only is it horrible t o suspect a person.--"Or will it b e wrong?--I can talk of it now. and Marianne.--Oh. and ruin at least for a time this fair prospect of busy tranquillity. Willing therefore to delay the evil hour." Elinor said no more. But the resolution was made o nly to be broken. who has been what HE has been to ME.--but w hat must it make me appear to myself?--What in a situation like mine. "If you could be assured of that. of such designs.Marianne. "I have done with that."--pointing with one hand. how gladly would I suppose him." ." asked her sister. but a most shamefully unguarded affection could expose me to"-"How then. Marianne had been two or three days at home. as far as HE is concern ed. She was debating within herself on the eligibility of begi nning her story directly. if I could be assured that he never was so VERY wicked as my fea rs have sometimes fancied him.--and they crept on for a few minutes in silence. Marianne calmly said. only fickle. Elinor joyfully treasured her words as she answered. slow as the feebleness of Marianne in an exercis e hitherto untried since her illness required." "Yes. The sisters set out at a pace. "I am not wishing him too much good. and there I first saw Willoughby. since the story of that unfortunate girl"-She stopt. "There. "would you account for his behaviour?" "I would suppose him. before she appointed it. such as might tempt the daughter's wishes and the mother's confidence." said Marianne at last with a sigh. "when I wish his secret reflections may be no more unpleasant than my own." Her voice sunk with the word. if I could be allowed to think that he was not ALWAYS acting a part.

--To John. who had seen all the fretful selfishness of my latter days. I had repaid with ungrateful contempt. As for Willoughby--to say that I shall soon or tha t I shall ever forget him. I well knew. my heart amended. I had been insolent and un just.--wond er that the very eagerness of my desire to live. my friend. They shall no longer worry others. as I had felt even at the time to be wrong. knew your heart and its sorrows. But you." She paused--and added in a low voice. Had I died. "If I could but know HIS heart. Whene ver I looked towards the past. Marianne pressed he r hand and replied. gave her instantly that praise and supp ort which her frankness and her contrition so well deserved. my sister!--You. the Steeles. would be idle.--not less when I knew y ou to be unhappy. "You are very good. I saw that my own feelings had prepared my sufferings. I have laid down my plan. impatient to soothe. and leaving you. From you. I did not know my danger till the danger was removed. let your ki ndness defend what I know your judgment must censure. I considered th e past: I saw in my own behaviour. the unceasing kindness of Mrs . must henceforth be all the world to me. Jennings. and to you all. and that I can practise the civilities.--The future must be my proof. for whom I professed an unbounded affection. and a temper irritated by thei r very attention. I shall now liv e solely for my family. To the Middletons. But it shall be regulated. I shall never again have the smallest incitement to move. but to what avail?--Was I more considerate of you an d your comfort? Did I imitate your forbearance. from my home. and Margaret. to be miserable for my sake. I wonder at my recovery. to every common acquaintance even. I saw some duty neglected. my nurse.--in what peculiar mi sery should I have left you. wit h gentleness and forbearance. but with such feelings as these reflections gave me. it shall be chec ked by religion.--it would have been self-destruction. I had given less than their due.--yes. who had known all the murmurings of my heart!--How should I have lived in YOUR remembrance!--My mother too! How c ould you have consoled her!--I cannot express my own abhorrence of myself. little as they deserve . and want of kindness to others. nothing but a series of imprudence towards myself. my mother. My illness. His remembrance can be overcome by no change of circumstances or opinions. and t hat my want of fortitude under them had almost led me to the grave. you will share my affections entirely between you. Long before I was enough recovered to talk." "They have borne more than our conduct. had been wronged by me. regretting only THAT heart which had deserted and wronged me. nor torture myself. did not kill me at once. who had now been for some time reflecting on the propriety or improprie . Every body seemed injured by me. yet to what did it influence me?--not to any compassion that could benefit you or myself. even to them. by constant employment." Elinor. and if I am capable of adhering to it--my feelings shall be governed and my temper improved. the lesser duties of life." Here ceased the rapid flow of her self-reproving spirit. or lessen your restraints. had been entirely brought on by myself by such negligence of my own health. with a heart hardened against their merits. Had I died."Our situations have borne little resemblance. The kindness. and if I do m ix in other society. did I turn away from eve ry exertion of duty or friendship. by ta king any part in those offices of general complaisance or particular gratitude w hich you had hitherto been left to discharge alone?--No. scarcely allowing sorrow to exist but with me . though too honest to flatter. I was perfectly able to reflect. or some failing indulg ed. than when I had believed you at ease. and only I. to the Pal mers. to Fanny. and Elinor. it will be only to shew that my spirit is humbled.It has given me leisure and calmness for serious recollection. everythin g would become easy. You.--you above all. My illness has made me thi nk-.-Your example was before me. above my mother. I.--Do not. since the beginning of our acquaintance with him last autumn. by reason. my dearest Elinor. to have time for atonement to m y God.

She caught every syllable with panting eagerness. easily conjecturing what her curiosity must be though no question was suffered to speak it. by an eag er sign. But the feelings of the past could not be rec alled. "I wish to assure you both. therefore. nor injure the interests of Colonel Brandon. and a resolution of r eviving the subject again. Dashwood did not hear unmoved the vindication of her former favourite. nor in her wish. and tears covered her cheeks." said she. Marianne slowly continued-"It is a great relief to me--what Elinor told me this morning--I have now heard exactly what I wished to hear. Nothing could replace him. prepared her anxious liste ner with caution. engaged her silence. like her daughter. and their conversation together. A thousand inquiries sprung up from her heart.--she wished him happy. and her lips became whiter than even sickness had lef t them.--but that it was not without an effort. and perceiving that as reflection did nothing. heard Willoughby's story from himself--ha d she witnessed his distress. in her former esteem. Elinor would not attempt to disturb a solitude so reasonable as what she now s ought.ty of speedily hazarding her narration.--She trembled. Marianne began voluntarily t o speak of him again. Marianne said not a word. without feeling at all nearer decision t han at first. closely pressed her sister's. with address. led her towards home. related simply and honestly the chief points on which Willough by grounded his apology. when they were all three together. Dashwood. "that I see every thing--as you can desi re me to do. and sobered her own opinion of Wil loughby's deserts. unqu iet thoughtfulness in which she had been for some time previously sitting--her r ising colour. should Marianne fail to do it. heard this. soon found herself leading to the fact. "Tell mama. to rouse such feelings in anoth er.--and her unsteady voice. resolut ion must do all. unknowingly to he rself. Elinor. as she spoke. and lay open such facts as were really due to his character. She rejoiced in his being cleared from some part of his imputed guilt. But it was neither in Elinor's power. and till they reached t he door of the cottage. without any embellishm ent of tenderness to lead the fancy astray. dreading her being tired. therefore. and softened only his pr otestations of present regard. where minuteness could be safely indulged. and with a mind anxiously pre-arranging its result. R eflection had given calmness to her judgment. her hand. did justice to his repentance. CHAPTER 47 Mrs. In the evening. the restless. but recov . by her retailed explanation.--Nothing could restore him with a faith unbroken--a character unblemished . who really wished to hear her sister's unbiased opinion. As soon as they entered the h ouse. to Marianne. and been under the influence of his countenance an d his manner. talked of nothing but Willoughby. She managed the recital. but she dared not urge on e. her eyes were fixed on the ground. plainly shewed." withdrew from her sister and walked slowly up stairs . Dashwood would have interrupted her instantly with soothing tenderness. to declare only the simple truth.--she wished. nor remove the guilt of his conduct towards Eliza. Had Mrs. ha d not Elinor." Mrs. it is probable that her compassion would have been greater. as she hoped. and was carefully minute in every particular of speech an d look. as had at first been called forth in herself. she turned into the pa rlour to fulfill her parting injunction."--For some moments her voice was lost.--she was sor ry for him. Nothing could do away the knowledge of what the latter had suffer ed through his means. Marianne with a kiss of gratitude and these two words just articulate thro ugh her tears.

He would have had a wife of whose temper he could make no complain t. But does it follow that had he married you. not only in this." "It is very true. "Happy with a man of libertine practi ces!--With one who so injured the peace of the dearest of our friends." continued Elinor. her sensitive conscience. he would have been happy?--The inconveniences would have been different. would have felt all that the conscienc e of her husband ought to have felt. you might have been suffered to practice it. on a small. you would have lessened your own influenc e on his heart.--I should have had no confidence." cried her mother. but he would have been always necessitous--always poor. to attempt all the economy that would appear to you p ossible: and. as well as myself. as long as your frugality retrenched only on your own com fort. I wish for no change. but beyond that--and how litt le could the utmost of your single management do to stop the ruin which had begu n before your marriage?-. reason enough to be convinced th at your marriage must have involved you in many certain troubles and disappointm ents. you must have been always poor. "I wish for no change." "I know it--I know it. all this. and which finally carried him from Barton. It has not made him happy. when his own were engaged. and I dare say you perceive. even to domestic happiness. whe n aware of your situation. perhaps. had you endeavoured. in which you would have been poorly supported by an affection. must have brought on distresses which wo uld not be the LESS grievous to you." "At present." replied Elinor. is it not to be feared. or his own ease. from having been entirely unknown and untho ught of before." Marianne sighed. I know. in every particular. His expens iveness is acknowledged even by himself. was. And why does he r egret it?--Because he finds it has not answered towards himself. she added. has been grounded on selfishness. on his side . that instead of prevailing on feelings so selfish to consent to it." "You consider the matter. His own enjoyment." "I have not a doubt of it. than the mere temper o f a wife.Beyond THAT.ering herself. and his whole conduct declares that sel f-denial is a word hardly understood by him. however reasonably. and made him regret the connection which had involved him in suc h difficulties?" Marianne's lips quivered. and repeated. much less certain. and she repeated the word "Selfish?" in a tone that i mplied--"do you really think him selfish?" "The whole of his behaviour. made him delay the confession of it. and probably would so on have learned to rank the innumerable comforts of a clear estate and good inco me as of far more importance. Nothing could have done it away to my feelings. which afterwards. YOUR sense of honour and honesty would have led you. because they are removed. It was selfishness which first ma de him sport with your affections. and he thinks only that he has married a woman of a less amiable temp er than yourself. but in many other circumstances." said Marianne. "he regrets what he has done. he now reckon s as nothing. "exactly as a good mind and a sound und erstanding must consider it." said Elinor. Had you married. to abridge HIS enjoyments. "and I have nothing to regret--nothi . no esteem. and the b est of men!--No--my Marianne has not a heart to be made happy with such a man!-Her conscience. His circumstances are now unembarrassed--he suffers from no evil of that kind. and with greater calmness than before--"I am now perfe ctly satisfied. MY happiness never was his object. He would then have suffer ed under the pecuniary distresses which. very small income. af ter knowing. His demands and your inexperience t ogether. his ruling princip le. as sooner or later I must have known. "from the beginning to the end of the affair. I never could have been happy with him.

who. saw her turning pale . but while her re cheerful and easy. her sis health. wished to avoid any survey of the past that might weaken her sister' s spirits." which was all t he intelligence of Edward afforded her by the correspondence. in esser observation may. immediately continued. Marianne was rather better. and when. and a momen t afterwards. again quietly settled at the cottage. according to her expectation. who. I think. Ferrars is married. as he waited at table. She had heard nothing of him since her leaving London. alike distressed by Marianne's situation. "SHE must be answerable.--and Elinor. Dashwood immediately took all that trouble on herself. Her daughter did not look. pursuing the first subject. nothing certain even of his present abode. however. The servant. with Mrs. ma'am. as to the source of his intelligence. Dashwood. t had done. though stil l much disordered." said Mrs. for his name was n ot even mentioned in any of the succeeding letters. my child. ." "Rather say your mother's imprudence. By that time." Marianne assented most feelingly to the remark. and of all his present discontents. "One t all e. Dashwood." Marianne would not let her proceed. and fell back in her chair in hysterics. saw on the two hat Marianne did not continue to gain strength as she solution was unsubdued. that Mr. there had been this senten ce:-. supported her into the other room. Elinor. who saw only that Miss Marianne was taken ill. was shock ed to perceive by Elinor's countenance how much she really suffered. nothing new of his plans. Dashwood's assistance. however. and can make no enquiries on s o prohibited a subject. as if much o f it were heard by her. That crime has been the origin of every l one. satisfied that each felt their own error."We know nothing of our unfortunate Edward. whose eyes. warm as friendship and design could unitedly dictate." Marianne gave a violent start. had sense enough to call one of the maids. as she ans wered the servant's inquiry. Mrs. but my own folly. in consequen ce of Marianne's illness. and she still tried to appear ter could safely trust to the effect of time upon her or three following days. Mrs. and if not pursuing their usual studies with qui te so much vigour as when they first came to Barton. knew not on which child to bestow her principal attention. returned to Elinor. Margaret returned. and Elinor had the benef it of the information without the exertion of seeking it. Elinor grew impatient for some tidings of Edward. and her mother leavin g her to the care of Margaret and the maid. She was not doomed. to be long in ignorance of his measures. Their man-servant had been sent one morning to Exeter on business. had so far recovered the use of her reason and voice as to be just beginning an inquiry of Thomas. this was his voluntary communication-"I suppose you know. he had satisfied the inquiries of his mistress as to the ev ent of his errand. and in the first of John's. and her mother was led by it to an enumeration of Colonel Brandon's injuries and merits. at least planning a vigorou s prosecution of them in future. therefore. be fairly drawn from the whole of the story--tha Willoughby's difficulties have arisen from the first offence against virtu his behaviour to Eliza Williams. had intuitively taken the same direction. and the family were again all restored to each other. Some letters had passed between her and her brother. fixed her eyes upon Elinor. but conclude him to be still at Oxford.

Ferrars was married. ma'am--the horses were just coming out. but howsever. Dashwood now looked at her daughter. Thomas's intelligence seemed over. . "Did you see them off. Dashwood could think of no other question. they'd m ake sure to come and see you." "But did she tell you she was married. only they two. ma'am. Thomas?" "I see Mr. They was stopping in a chaise at the door of the New London Inn . near Plymouth." Mrs." Elinor's heart could easily account for his not putting himself forward. ma'am--but not to bide long. but he did not look up.--he nev er was a gentleman much for talking. as I went there with a message from Sally at the Park to her brother. th eir best compliments and service. So. She was always a very affable and free-spoken young lady." Mrs. I made free to wish her joy. Ferrars in the carriage with her?" "Yes. ma'am." "Did Mrs. but they was in a great hurry to go forwards. as Miss Lucy--Mrs. but I could not bide any longer. and bid me I should give her compliments and Mr. she said how she was very well. so I took off my hat. I just see him leaning back in it. ma'am. Elinor looked as if she wished to hear more. She observed in a low voice. Ferrars told me. ma'am." "Was Mr. ma'am. and to my mind she was always a ve ry handsome young lady--and she seemed vastly contented." "And are they going farther westward?" "Yes. that they were probably going down to Mr. I was afraid of being late. Ferrars's. Pratt's. and was very confident t hat Edward would never come near them. "Was there no one else in the carriage?" "No. who is o ne of the post-boys. and she knew me and called to me. and how sorry they was they had not time to co me on and see you."Who told you that Mr. and Thomas and the tablecloth. to her mothe r. Ferrars look well?" "Yes. Thomas?" "Yes. Dashwood probably found the same explanation. and so I see directly it was the youngest Miss Steele. this morning in Exeter. for they was go ing further down for a little while. Ferrars myself. and very civil behaved. and his lady too. and inquired after you. and the young ladies. She recognised the whole of Lucy in the message. and Mr s. when they come back. She smiled. and then they' d be sure and call here." "Do you know where they came from?" "They come straight from town. but Elinor knew better than to expect them. and said how she had changed her name since she was in these parts. especial ly Miss Marianne. before you came away?" "No. They will soon be back again. I happened to look up as I went by the chaise. Mis s Steele as was. ma'am.

surprised her a little at first. married in town. and yet desired to avoid. She feared that under this persuas ion she had been unjust. and she condemned her heart for the lurking flatter y. uniting at once a desire of smart appearance with the utmost frugality. In Edward--she knew not what she saw. she had always admitted a hope. of Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor were left by themselves. much slighter in reality. nor what she wished to see. Elinor flattered herself that some one of their connections in London would wri te to them to announce the event. ha d too much engrossed her tenderness. and brought no letter. on seeing he r mother's servant. nay. But he was now married. That he should be married soon. almost unkind. and now hastening down to her un cle's. When the dessert and the wine were arranged.--that M arianne's affliction. were soon afterwards dismissed. and consequently before he could be in possession of the living. courti ng the favour of Colonel Brandon. She now found. on hearing Lucy's message! They would soon.--pursuing her own interest in every thought. in her self-pro vident care. which o nce she had so well understood. and of every wealthy friend. the considerate attention of her daughter. some mediation of alike needless. Mrs. that in spite of herself.--Delaford. that with so m uch uneasiness as both her sisters had lately experienced. that she should eat nothing more. than she had been wont to believe. Mrs. before (as she imagined) he could be in orders. that some resolution of his own. would arise to assist the happiness of all. in her haste to secure him. and ventured not to of fer consolation. to think the attachment. so much reason as the y had often had to be careless of their meals. while Edwar d remained single. suffering as sh e then had suffered for Marianne. and give farther particulars. Dashwood feared to hazard any remark. and certainty itself.--nothing pleased her. which so much heightened the pain of the intelligence.--that place i n which so much conspired to give her an interest. CHAPTER 48 Elinor now found the difference between the expectation of an unpleasant event. the active. more immediately before her. and Margaret might think herself very well off. she turned away her head from every sketch of him. Marianne had already sent to say. which she wished to be acquai nted with. She found that she had been misled by the care ful. or than it was now proved to be. ma'am?" was an inquiry which sprung from the impatience of her mind to have something going on. She saw them in an instant in their parsona ge-house.--but day after d ay passed off. Though uncertain that any one were to blame. or some more eligible op portunity of establishment for the lady. Dashwood's and Elinor's appetites w ere equally lost. What had Edward felt on being within four miles from Barton. "When do you write to Colonel Brandon. She now found that she had erred in relying on Elinor's represe ntation of herself. she found fault with every absent friend. and Mrs. to her Elinor. Jennings.--happy or unh appy. to spare her from an increase of unhappiness. . because more acknowledged. contriving manager. and greater fortitude. she had never been obliged to go without her dinner before. should overlook every thing but the ris k of delay. be settled at Delaford. and justly concluded that every thing had been expressly sof tened at the time. however certain the mind may be told to consider it. they remained long together in a similarity of thoughtfulnes s and silence. saw in Lucy. They were all thoughtle ss or indolent. no tidings. But she soon saw how likely it was that Lucy. and ashamed to be suspected of ha lf her economical practices. inattentive. and led her away to forget that in Elinor s he might have a daughter suffering almost as much. that something would occur to prevent his marrying Lucy. she supposed. certainly with less self-prov ocation. They were married.

and maintained a strict silence. Marianne had retreated as much as possible out of sight. she sat down again and talked of the weather. When Elinor had ceased to rejoice in the dryness of the season. my mother is in to wn. It was put an end to by Mrs.--but she had no utterance. Dashwood. who felt obliged to hope that he had left Mrs. "He co mes from Mr. he replied in the affirmative. or any day. S he saw her mother and Marianne change colour. last week. In a hurried manner. however. Mrs." In a moment she perceived that the others were likewise aware of the mistake. and wished him joy. with an air of surprise. in a moment he was in the passage. Dashwood. was not too happy. n ow said. Another pause. and Margaret. and therefore took a seat as far from him as she could. "Is Mrs. His footsteps were heard along the gravel path."No. thought it incumbent on her to be dignified. my love. But it was then too late. to the wishes of that daughter. Not a syllable passed aloud. and with a countenance meaning to be open. and she trembled in expectation of i t. Pratt's purposely to see us. I earnestly pressed his coming to us. They all waited in silence for the appearance of t heir visitor. and stammered out an unintelligible reply. She moved away and sat down. She would have given the world to be able to speak--and to make them understand that she hoped no coolness. Ferrars very well. she must say it must be Edward. when the moment of action was over. and rather expect to see. He coloured. She looked again." This was gaining something. Scarcely had she so determined it. Now she could hear more. and whis per a few sentences to each other. and conscious that he merited no kind one. as she trusted. as he entered the room. and was obliged to leave all to their own discretion. when the figure of a man on horseback drew h er eyes to the window. I WILL be calm. than to hear fro m him again. and should not be surprised t o see him walk in today or tomorrow. He had just dismounted. no slight. and he looked as if fearful of his recept ion. understanding some part. Ferrars at Longstaple?" "At Longstaple!" he replied. would appear in their behaviour to him. gave him her hand. by whom she then meant in th e warmth of her heart to be guided in every thing. I WILL be mistress of myself. it was Colone l Brandon himself. His countenance. she wished that she had shaken hands with him too. but not the whole of the case. saw them look at herself." . Were it pos sible. though fearing the sound of her own voice. Elinor resolving to exert herself. Elinor's lips had moved with her mother's. met with a look of forced com placency. conformi ng. a very awful pa use took place.--it WAS Edward. Hi s complexion was white with agitation. But--it was NOT Colonel Brandon--neither his air--nor his height. even for Elinor. It was a gentleman. and. --she could not be mistaken."I wrote to him. to conceal her distres s. something to look forward to. He stopt at their gate.-. and in another he was before them. Colonel Brandon must have some information to give.

apparently from not knowing what to do. and. need not be particularly told. Dashwood could penetrate.--but her mother and Marianne both turned their eyes on h im. no affectionate a ddress of Mrs. in a state of such agitation as made her ha rdly know where she was. looked doubtingly. This only need be said. Robert Ferrars!"--was repeated by Marianne and her mother in an accent of the utmost amazement. He rose from his seat. said. it was certain that Edward was free."I meant. for immediately afte rwards he fell into a reverie. after some hesitation . His errand at Barton. as he had already done for more than four years." said he. How soon he had walked himself into the proper resolution. however. engaged her mother's consent. than the immediate contraction of another. about three hours after his arrival. so much in need of encouragement and fresh air. burst into tears of joy. a nd raise his spirits. he had secured his lady. "Perhaps you do not know--you may not have heard that my brother is lately marr ied to--to the youngest--to Miss Lucy Steele. and walked out towards the village--leaving the others in the gre atest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his situation. "Yes. and are now at Dawlish.--for after experiencing the blessings of ONE imprudent engagement. in a hurried voice. She almost ran out of the room. so wonderful and so sudden. He coloured. how soon an opportunity of exercising it occurred.--and though Elinor could not speak. who sat with her head leaning over her work. It was only to ask Elinor to m arry him. and at last. even HER eyes were fi xed on him with the same impatient wonder. who had till then looked any where. one of the happiest of men. and how he was received. ROBERT Ferrars. "to inquire for Mrs . and walked to the window. said.-"Perhaps you mean--my brother--you mean Mrs. as the circumstances of his release might appear to the whole family." She dared not look up. and as soon as t he door was closed. He had more than the ordinary triumph of accepted love to swell his heart. CHAPTER 49 Unaccountable. rather than at her. His situation indeed was more than commonly joyf ul. without saying a word.--Mrs. from an e ntanglement which had long formed his misery.--a perplexity which they had no means of lessening but by their own conjectures. Edward. taking up some work from the table. from a woman whom he had long ceas . her emotion. took up a pair of scissors t hat lay there." Elinor could sit it no longer. it might be strange that he should feel so uncomfortable in the present case as he really did. saw h er hurry away. contracted without his mother's cons ent. He was released without any reproach to himself. in the reality of reason and tru th." His words were echoed with unspeakable astonishment by all but Elinor.--and considering that he was not altogether inexperienced in such a qu estion." "Mrs. EDWARD Ferrars." said Elinor. "they were married last week. which no remarks. in fact. qui tted the room. seemed perplexed. and while spoiling both them and their sheath by cutting the latt er to pieces as he spoke. no inquiries. and was not only in the rapturous profession of the lover. was a simple one. in what manner he expressed himself. and perhaps saw--or even heard. and to what purpose that fre edom would be employed was easily pre-determined by all. which at first she thought would ne ver cease. nothing less could be expe cted of him in the failure of THAT. however. but.--th at when they all sat down to table at four o'clock.

too happy to be comfortable.ed to love. nor praise Elinor enough. But instead of having any thing to do. she was every thing by turns but tranquil. and for the first twelvemonth afterwards I had not even the nominal emp loyment.--and elevated at once to that security with another. as soon as he had learnt to consider it with desire. fooli sh as our engagement was. or being allowed to chuse any myself. nor how at once to give them leisure for unrestrained co nversation together. all its errors confessed. instead of having any profession cho sen for me. not from doubt or suspense. as his friends had never witnessed in him before. Comparisons would occur--regr ets would arise. I had therefore nothing in the world to do. which he must h ave thought of almost with despair. the satisfaction of a sleep less night. at the time. and disliked n ew acquaintance. and I had seen so little of other women. any object to engage my time and keep me at a dist ance from her for a few months. idle inclination on my side.--and the change was openly spoken in such a genuine. but to fancy myself in love. But Elinor--how are HER feelings to be described?--From the moment of learning that Lucy was married to another. it would never have happened.--saw him honourably released from his former engagement. which belonging to the university would have given me. I hope. it was not unnatural for me to be very often at Longstaple. and yet enjoy. "It was a foolish. how to be enough thankful for his release without wounding his delicacy. and his first boyish attachment to Lucy treated with all the philosophic dignit y of twenty-four." The change which a few hours had wrought in the minds and the happiness of the Dashwoods. she was overco me by her own felicity. to address herself and declare an affection as tender. I returned home to be complete ly idle. whe re I always felt myself at home. it required several hours to give s edateness to her spirits. every solicitude removed. was of a kind to give her neither spirits nor language. "the consequence of i gnorance of the world--and want of employment. a most unconquerable preference for his niece. that I could make no c omparisons. for I was not en tered at Oxford till I was nineteen. grateful cheerf ulness." said he. that Edward was free. Dashwood.--and her joy. saw him instantly pr ofiting by the release. I should very soon have outgrown the fancied att achment. knew not how to love Edw ard. or any degree of tranquillity to her heart. Had my brother given me some acti ve profession when I was removed at eighteen from the care of Mr. was such--so great--as promised them all.--and happily disposed as is the human mind to be easily familiarized with any change for the better. compared her situation with what so lately it had bee n. though sincere as her love for her sister. it was impossible that less than a week should be giv . a s constant as she had ever supposed it to be. as I had no friend. and as my mother did not make my home in every res pect comfortable. She was pretty too--at least I thought so THEN. ye t had I then had any pursuit. as she wished. it w as not at the time an unnatural or an inexcusable piece of folly. Pratt. and was always sure of a welcome.--she was oppressed. when she found every doubt. and see no defects. He was brought. but from misery to happines s. especially by mixing more with the world. and according ly I spent the greatest part of my time there from eighteen to nineteen: Lucy ap peared everything that was amiable and obliging. Edward was now fixed at the cottage at least for a week. all its weaknesses. flowing. no companion in my brother. His heart was now open to Elinor. But when the second moment had passed. to the moment of his jus tifying the hopes which had so instantly followed. for though I left Longstaple wit h what I thought. Mrs. Marianne could speak HER happiness only by tears. therefore. Considering everything. foolish as it has since in every way been proved. the sight and society of both . I am sure. as in such case I must have d one.--for whatever other cl aims might be made on him. I think --nay.

where he had remained for choice ever since his quitting London. And Lucy perhaps at first might think only of procuring his good offices in my favour. we are just returned from the a ltar. He put the letter into Elinor's hands." . Between THEM no subject is finished.--for though a very few hours sp ent in the hard labor of incessant talking will despatch more subjects than can really be in common between any two rational creatures. however. but to her reason."--was his immediate observation. "THAT was exactly like Robert. and the future. formed of course one of the earliest discussions of the lovers. and it shall no t be my fault if we are not always good friends. and have no doubt of being as happy with him a s I once used to think I might be with you." How long it had been carrying on between them. and on whose account that brother had b een thrown off by his family--it was beyond her comprehension to make out. "Being very sure I have long lost your affections.--"And THAT. as our near relationship now ma kes proper. "LUCY FERRARS. Sincerely wish you happy in your choice. til l it has been made at least twenty times over. half stupified between th e wonder. but thought I would first trouble you with th ese few lines. and by what attraction Robert could be drawn on to marry a g irl.--and Elinor's particular k nowledge of each party made it appear to her in every view. it was completely a puzzle. and shall always remain. "I have burnt all your letters. friend. and sister. as to lead by degrees to all the rest. he had had no means of hearing of her but from herse lf. To he r own heart it was a delightful affair. Other designs might afterward arise. the present. and am sure you will be too generous to do us any ill offices. of whose beauty she had herself heard him speak without any admiration. to her imagination it was even a ridicul ous one. for at Oxford. "might perhaps be in HIS head when the acquaintance between th em first began. no communication is even made. which place your dear b rother has great curiosity to see. Elinor remembered what Ro bert had told her in Harley Street. had ever occurred to p repare him for what followed.--and when at last it burst on him in a letter from Lucy herself. that. and her letters to the very last were neither less frequent. How they could be thrown together. and as we could not live without one another. the unceasing and reasonable wonder among them all. I can safely say I owe you no ill-will. perhaps. Lucy's marriage. and will return your picture the first opportun ity. the horror. Your brother has gained my affections entirel y. She repeated it to Edward. but I scorn to accept a hand while t he heart was another's." he presently added. "DEAR SIR.en up to the enjoyment of Elinor's company. of his opinion of what his own mediation in his brother's affairs might have done. yet with lovers it is di fferent. therefore. Not the smallest suspicion. if applied to in time. Please to destroy my scrawls--but the ring with my hair you are very welcom e to keep. he was equally at a los s with herself to make out.--a girl too already engaged to his brother. and the joy of such a deliverance. nor less affect ionate than usual. and are now on our way to Dawlish for a few weeks. he believed. the vanity of the one had been so worked on by the flatter y of the other. as one of the most e xtraordinary and unaccountable circumstances she had ever heard. her judgment. "Your sincere well-wisher. Edward could only attempt an explanation by supposing. at first accidentally meeting. or suffice to say half that was to b e said of the past. I have thought myself at lib erty to bestow my own on another. he had been for some time.

--In a sister it is bad enough. and with on ly one object before him. She could not foresee that Colonel Brandon would give m e a living. when she so earnestly. It w as his business. he had always believed her to be a well-disposed. for no communication with any of his family had yet been attempted by him. but in a wife!--how I have blushed over the pages of her writi ng!--and I believe I may say that since the first half year of our foolish--busi ness--this is the only letter I ever received from her. has p ut it in his power to make his own choice. "I thought it my duty. for Robert always was her favourite. Edward knew not. that any thing but the most di sinterested affection was her inducement? And even now. to her ignorance and a want of liberality in some of her opinions--they had been equally imputed . so warmly i nsisted on sharing my fate.Elinor read and returned it without any comment. in spite of the mod esty with which he rated his own deserts. long before the discovery of it laid him open to his mother's anger. and she has actually been bribing one son with a thousand a-year. to go off with a flourish of malice a gainst him in her message by Thomas. but she might suppose that something would occur in your favour. She will hardly be less hurt. was perfectly clear to Elinor. by Robert's marr ying Lucy. Though his eyes had be en long opened. and the politeness with which he talke d of his doubts. where there seemed nothing to tempt the avarice or the vanity of any living creature.--"they are certai nly married. must be referred to the imagin ation of husbands and wives. The independence she settled on Robert. What he might say on the subject a twelvemonth after. had had no leisure to form any scheme of conduct. I cannot comprehend on w hat motive she acted." said Elinor. In such a situation as that. that your . He had quit ted Oxford within four and twenty hours after Lucy's letter arrived. upon the whole. whatever it might be. good-hearted girl. And your mother has brought on herself a most appropriate punishmen t. when I was renounced by my mother." "However it may have come about. He could do nothing till he were assured of his fate with Miss Dashwood. "I will not ask your opinion of it as a composition.--"For worlds would not I have had a letter of hers seen by YOU in former days. or what fancied advantage it could be to her. however. he did not." "No. and who had only two thous and pounds in the world. and thoroughly at tached to himself. had been a continual source of disquiet and regret to him . and on the same principle will forgive him much sooner. the nearest road to Barton. after a pause. by him. which. I suppose. of which the substance m ade me any amends for the defect of the style." In what state the affair stood at present between them. than she would have been by your marrying her. and till her last letter reached him. Nothing but such a persuasion could have prevented his puttin g an end to an engagement. how could I suppose. and he said it very prettily. to say that he DID. "independent of my feelings. an d stood to all appearance without a friend in the world to assist me." said Edward. to her want of education. and Edward h imself. expect a very cruel reception." "She will be more hurt by it. to be fetter ed to a man for whom she had not the smallest regard. through resentment against you. now thoroughly enlightened on her character. had no scruple in believing her capable of the utmost meanness of wanton ill-nature. it is to be supposed. with which that road did not hold the most intimate conn ection.--She will be more hurt by it. in spite of the jealousy with which he had once thought of Colonel Brandon. even before his acquaintance with Elinor began. to do the very deed which she disinherited the othe r for intending to do. That Lucy had certainly meant to deceive. and by his rapidity in seeking THAT fate. to give her the o ption of continuing the engagement or not." said he.

and rat e of the tithes. of course. and his chusing herself had been spoken of in Mrs. "I was simple enough to think. and that the consciousness of my e ngagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred as my honour.own family might in time relent. and the arguments with which I reconciled myself to the expediency of it. she feared that Robert's . I did not know how far I was got. I suppose. with Delaford liv ing. if nothing more advantageous occurr ed. and they were neither of them quite enough in lov e to think that three hundred and fifty pounds a-year would supply them with the comforts of life. and till I began to make co mparisons between yourself and Lucy." Elinor smiled. After tha t. and glebe. garden. to Elinor herself. for since Edward would still be unable to marry Miss Morto n. were no better than these:-The danger is my own. one difficulty o nly was to be overcome. at present. for she has proved that it fettered neither her inclination no r her actions. as he really wished not only to be better acquainted with him. and on THAT he rested for the residue of their income." Edward was. condition of the land. immediately convinced that nothing could have been more natural than Lucy's conduct. when he mus t have felt his own inconstancy. nor more self-evident than the motive of it. Edward heard with pleasure of Colonel Brandon's being expected at the Cottage. t here could be no danger in my being with you. Das hwood should advance anything." said she. "because--to say nothing o f my own conviction. it would be better for her to marry YOU than be single. and probably gain ed her consideration among her friends. he must think I have never forgiven him for of fering. and shook her head. "after thanks so ungraciously delive red as mine were on the occasion. which. Elinor scolded him. I am doing no injury to anybody but myself." He could only plead an ignorance of his own heart. But so little interest had he taken in the matter. she lost nothing by continuin g the engagement. as to be entirely mistress of the sub ject. And at any rate. was all that they could call their own. that he owed all his knowledge of th e house. The connection was certainly a respectable one. Edward had two thousand pounds. but to have an op portunity of convincing him that he no longer resented his giving him the living of Delaford--"Which. could never be. between them. with the warmest approbation of their real friends. and Elinor one. I WAS wrong in remaining so much in Sussex. and a mistaken confidence in the force of his engagement. I felt that I ad mired you. Ferrars's flattering langu age as only a lesser evil than his chusing Lucy Steele. and. our relations were all led away by it to fancy and expect W HAT." NOW he felt astonished himself that he had never yet been to the place. One question after this only remained undecided. their intimate knowledge of each oth er seemed to make their happiness certain--and they only wanted something to liv e upon. But Elinor ha d no such dependence. as you were THEN situated. They were brought together by mutual affection. Edward was not entirely without hopes of some favourable change in his mother t owards him. for having spent so much time with them at Norland. but I told myself it was only friendship. extent of the parish. who had heard so much of it from Colonel Bra ndon. and heard it with so much attention. for it was impossible that Mrs. that because my FAITH was plighted to another. harshly as ladies always scold the imprudence which complim ents themselves." said he. "Your behaviour was certainly very wrong.

to fall in with the Doctor again. and pour forth her compassion towards poor Mr.-. his wife should never be acknowledged as her daughter. in disposition a nd manner of thinking. from whence he u sually returned in the morning. Burgess. but you must send for him to Barton . almost broken-hearted."I do think. to make it cheerful. without any other attraction. where. Every thing was explained to him by Mrs. which might otherwise have waited the effect of time and judgment. And I must say that Lucy's c rossness not to take them along with them in the chaise is worse than all. Dashwood's strains were more solemn. as well as not knowing how to get to Plymouth. that the gentlemen advanced in the good opinion of each other. he did revive. she was sure. to vent her honest indi gnation against the jilting girl. by all accounts.--so I was very glad to give her five guineas to take her down to Ex eter. Mrs. all the kindness of her welcome. for the first time since her living at Barton. where she thinks of staying three or four weeks with Mrs. Robert's offence was unpardonable. which a few days before would have made every nerve in E linor's body thrill with transport. About four days after Edward's arrival Colonel Brandon appeared. as they advanced in each other's acquaintance. Jennings wrote to tell the wonderful tale. Edward was allowed to retain the privilege of first comer. at Oxford. than that she should thus be the means of spreading misery farther in the f . for it was but two days before Lucy ca lled and sat a couple of hours with me. was rationally treated as enormously heightening the cri me. and to give her the dignity of having. if she might hereafter be induced to forgive her son. Among such friends. Their resemblance in good principles and good sense. brought him to Barton in a temper of mind which needed all the improvement in Marianne's looks." Mr." she contin ued. Ferrars was the most unfortunate of women--poor Fanny had suffered agonies of sensibility--and he considered the existence of each. early enough to interrupt the lovers' first tete -a-tete before breakfast. and was no w. who. poor soul! came crying to me the day after. and even. to complete Mr s. since eventually it promoted the interest of Elinor. he had little to do but to calculate the disproportion between thirty-six and seven teen. Poor Mr. A three weeks' residence at Delaford. on purpose we suppose to make a show with. for Lucy it seems borrowed all her money before she went off to be married. and he found fresh reason to rejoice in what he had done for Mr. Ferrars. and such flattery. The secrecy with which everything had been c arried on between them. "nothing was ever carried on so sly. however. The letters from town. but Lucy's was infinitely worse. had any suspicion of it occurred to the others. No rumour of Lucy's marriage had yet reached him: --he knew nothing of what had passed. and poor Nancy had not seven shillings i n the world. in a great fright for fear of Mrs. Dashwood. in his evening hours at least. would probably have been sufficient to unite them in frie ndship. with grateful wonder. Ferrars. had quite doted upon the worthless hussy. Edward! I cannot get him out of my head. now arrived to be read with less emotion tha n mirth. not even Nancy. made that mutual regard inevitable and immed iate. Dashwood's satisfaction. and he called on Elinor to join with him in regretting that Lucy's engagement with Edward had not rather been fulfil led. Mrs. It would be needless to say. Ferrars. who. because. and the first hours of his visit were cons equently spent in hearing and in wondering. but their being in love with two sisters. Not a soul suspected anything of the mat ter. and Colonel Brando n therefore walked every night to his old quarters at the Park. under such a blow.offence would serve no other purpose than to enrich Fanny. and Miss Marianne must try to comfort him. and two sisters fond of each other. and all the encouragement of her mother's language. nor be p ermitted to appear in her presence. as I tell her. Neither of them were ever again to be mentioned to Mrs. for it could not be otherwise. more company with her than her house would hol d. proper measures wou ld have been taken to prevent the marriage. in hope s. Edward.

he is kept silent by his fear of offending."And if they really DO interes t themselves. and from then ce." said Marianne. she had one again. and now. it was resolved that.--I am grown very happy.-. he should go to London.--and I should think you might NOW venture so far as to profess some concern fo r having ever formed the engagement which drew on you your mother's anger." "You may certainly ask to be forgiven. the similar annihilation of Robert had left her for a fo rtnight without any. and pronounced to be again her son. Ferrars has never yet mentioned Edward's name. after staying there a couple of nights." After a visit on Colonel Brandon's side of only three or four days. he did not feel the c . might not be taken amiss." said Elinor. not a line has been received from him on the o ccasion. and breach of honour to ME?--I can ma ke no submission--I am grown neither humble nor penitent by what has passed. and I sha ll. addressed perhaps to Fanny. I shall think that even John and Fanny are not entirely with out merit. "A letter of proper submission!" repeated he.-. he was to proceed on his journey to town. however. Ferrars. almost as imprudent in HER eyes as the fir st. Ferrars's heart. perhaps a little humility may be convenient whi le acknowledging a second engagement." He had nothing to urge against it. and assist his pat ron and friend in deciding on what improvements were needed to it. but the crime and annihilation of Edward a few weeks ago.amily. instead of writing to Fanny. and therefore. however. to make it easier to him. though not exactly in the manner p ointed out by their brother and sister. "because you have offended .--I know of no submission that IS proper for me to make. For many years of her life she had had two sons. but. the two gen tlemen quitted Barton together. Perhaps. the reproach of being too amiable. Her family had of late been exceedingly fluctuating. that his sister and I both think a letter of proper submission from him. I t determined him to attempt a reconciliation. "And when she has forgiven you. had robbed her of one. which does not surprise us .-. "would they have me beg my mother 's pardon for Robert's ingratitude to HER. but that would not interest. just so violent and so s teady as to preserve her from that reproach which she always seemed fearful of i ncurring. as he declared a much greater willingness to make mean concessions by word of mouth than on paper. In spite of his being allowed once more to live.They were to go immediately to Delaford. CHAPTER 50 After a proper resistance on the part of Mrs. for we all know the tenderne ss of Mrs. "in bringing abou t a reconciliation. by the resuscitation of Edward. but still resisted the idea of a letter of p roper submission. and per sonally intreat her good offices in his favour. in her new character of candour. Edward was admitted to her presence . by a line to Oxford. to our great astonishment." This paragraph was of some importance to the prospects and conduct of Edward.He thus continued: "Mrs." He agreed that he might. and by her shewn to her mother. give him a hint. that Edward might have some personal knowledge of his future home. therefore. and that she wishes for nothing so much as to be on good terms with her children.

one of the happiest couples in the world. though rather jumbled toge ther. by every argument in her power.--and enforced the assertion. What she would engage to do towards augmenting their income was next to be cons idered. Mrs. Jennings's prophecies. as they wer e walking together one morning before the gates of Delaford House. by her shuffling excuses. and the ceremony took place in Barton church early in the autumn. not the smallest objection was made against Edward's taking orders for the sake of two hundred and fifty at the utmost. and rather bett er pasturage for their cows. with an eager desire for the accommod ation of Elinor. was making considerable improvements. but the readine ss of the house. that in Miss Morton he wo uld have a woman of higher rank and larger fortune. They had in fact nothin g to wish for. But. he was by no means inclined to be guided by it. to submit--and therefore. perhaps. but the marriage of Colonel Brandon and Marianne.--told him. from the experience of the past. and di rect every thing as they liked on the spot. nor was anything pr omised either for the present or in future. Mrs. h e was by no means her eldest. as there is now standing in Delaford H anger!--And though. and after waiting some ti me for their completion. for she was able to visit Edward and his wife in t heir Parsonage by Michaelmas. it would give me great pleasure to call Colonel Brandon brother. however. she ju dged it wisest. as it is. broke through the first positive resolution of not marrying till every thing was ready. and even the Dashwoods were at the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them honour. Marianne may not seem exactly the person to attract . beyond the ten thousand pounds. seemed the only person surprised at her not giving more. With an income quite sufficient to their wants thus secured to them. his house.ontinuance of his existence secure. though perfectly admitting the tru th of her representation. They were visited on their first settling by almost all their relations and fri ends. as she re ally believed. by observing that Miss Morton was the daughter of a nobleman with thirty thousa nd pounds. Ferrars herself. were chiefly fulfilled. for certainly you have been one of the most fortunate young w omen in the world. but when she found that. my dear sister. as usua l. from whence they could superintend the progress of the Parsonage. a thousand disappointment s and delays from the unaccountable dilatoriness of the workmen. and more than was expected. His property here.--could chuse papers. after experiencing. "THAT would b e saying too much. till he had revealed his present engagement. and he was listened to with unexpected calmness . "I will not say that I am disappointed. and Mrs. Elinor. whic h had been given with Fanny. after such an ungracious delay as she owed to her own dignity. and invent a sweep. as usual. for while Robert was inevitably endowed with a tho usand pounds a-year. she issued her decree of consent to the marriag e of Edward and Elinor. while Miss Dashwood was only the daughter of a private gentleman with no more than THREE." said John. that though Edward was now her only son. every thi ng is in such respectable and excellent condition!--and his woods!--I have not s een such timber any where in Dorsetshire. he feared. project shrubbe ries. to which Colonel Brandon. Ferrars at first reasonably endeavoured to dissuade him from marrying Mis s Dashwood. With apprehensive ca ution therefore it was revealed. Ferrars came to inspect the happiness which she was almost ashamed of having authorised. It was as much. by Edward and Elinor. for the publication of that circumstance. they had n othing to wait for after Edward was in possession of the living. Mrs. I confess. The first month after their marriage was spent with their friend at the Mansion -house. his place. as was desired. and as served to preve nt every suspicion of good-will. and here it plainly appeared. and she found in Elinor and her husband. and carry him off as rapidly as before. might give a sudden turn t o his constitution.

SHE was in every thing c onsidered. and endless flatteries. Lucy became as necessary to Mrs. procured the forgiveness of Mrs. Some doubts always lingered in her mind when they parted. and in which she soon betrayed an interest even equal to his own. Ferrars. another conversati on. and gratitud e for the unkindness she was treated with."-But though Mrs. at Lucy's instigation.--a subject on which he had always more to say than on any other. however. though superior to her in fortune and birth. he naturally expected that one or two interviews would settle the matter. The forgiveness. for she had many relations a nd old acquaintances to cut--and he drew several plans for magnificent cottages. still remained some weeks longer unpardoned. will do in securing every advantage of fortune. in which their husbands of cour se took a part. for her respectful humility. and the rest fo llowed in course. which had at first drawn Robert into the scrape. were on the best t erms imaginable with the Dashwoods. The selfish sagaci ty of the latter. and the prosperity which crowned i t. reconciled Mrs.--for though Lucy soon gave him hopes that his eloquence would convince her in TIME. Ferrars. and while Edward was never cordially forgiven for having once intended to marry her. however its progress may be apparent ly obstructed. Ferrars. nobo dy can tell what may happen--for. as was reasonable. and it was earned by them before many months had passed away. and setting aside the jealousies and ill-wil l continually subsisting between Fanny and Lucy. as soon as the smallest opening was given for their exercise. an unceasing attention to self-interest. it became speedily evident to both. and led soon afterwards. it was only with the view imputed to him by his brother. and as there could be nothing to overcome but the affection of both. that he had entirely supplanted his brother. was spoken of as an intruder. Ferrars to his choice. you may as well give her a chance--You underst and me. --and from thence returning to town. another visit. in self-condemnation for Robert's offence. and so forth. Instead of talking of Edward. The whole of Lucy's behaviour in the affair. may be held forth as a most encouraging instance of what an earnes t. He was proud of his conquest. to be a favourite child. indeed. But perseverance in humility of conduct and messages. received very liberal assistance from Mrs. with no other sac rifice than that of time and conscience. The y passed some months in great happiness at Dawlish. They settled in town. and Elinor. who had owed his mother no duty and therefore could have transgressed none. as well as the frequent domestic disagreements between Robert an d Lucy themselves. at first. THAT was due to the folly of Robert. Ferrars DID come to see them. therefore. What immediately followed is known. and that only. What Edward had done to forfeit the right of eldest son. In tha t point. and very proud of marrying privately without his mother's consent.--in short. and the cunning of his wife. His attendance was by this means secured. which could only be removed by another half hour's d iscourse with himself. for as Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home. as either Robert or Fanny. and in short. and re-established h im completely in her favour. nothing could exceed the harmony in which they all lived toge ther. procured her in time the haughty noti ce which overcame her by its graciousness. was always wanted to produce this conviction. he erred. When Robert first sought her acquaintan ce. they were never insulted by her real favour an d preference. comprehended only Robert. was adopted. by rapid deg rees. and see little of anybody else--and it will always be in your power to set her off to ad vantage. assiduo us attentions. was the princ ipal instrument of his deliverance from it. proud of tricking Edward. and Lucy. He merely meant to persuade her to give up the e ngagement. when people are much thrown together. they came gradually to talk only of Robert. which. might have puzzled man . and always treated them with the make-believe of decent affection.him--yet I think it would altogether be advisable for you to have them now freq uently staying with you. b y the simple expedient of asking it. and privately visited her in Bartlett's Buildings. to the highest state of affection and influence. and always openly acknowledged.

voluntarily to give her hand to another!--and THAT other. the mistress of a family. and that Marianne found her own happiness in forming his. as afterwards in her more calm and sober judgment she had determined on. and with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friends hip. a wife. for nothing ever appeared in Robert's style of living or of talking to give a suspicion of his regretting the extent of his income. in time. ga ve him reason for believing that had he behaved with honour towards Marianne. and finding her only pleasures in retirement and study. was sincere. Colonel Brandon was now as happy. need not be doubted. Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without a pang. But th at he was for ever inconsolable. by her conduct. as on ce she had fondly flattered herself with expecting.--and if Edward m ight be judged from the ready discharge of his duties in every particular. submitting to new attachments.--instead of remaining even f or ever with her mother. and to see Marianne settled at the mansion-house was equally the wish of Edwar d and Elinor. no les s free from every wish of an exchange. as it had once been to Willoughby. i f not in its cause. that he fled from society. placed in a new home. or bringing himself too much. two yea rs before. She was born to discover t he falsehood of her own opinions.--nor that h e long thought of Colonel Brandon with envy. her most fa vourite maxims. must not be depended on--for h . justified in its effects. she had considered too old to be married. It was an arrangement. as the source of her clemency. and of Marianne with regret. though l ong after it was observable to everybody else--burst on her--what could she do? Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. as much devoted to her husband. Marianne could never love by hal ves. and to counteract. believed he deserved to be. she d esired nothing so much as to give up its constant enjoyment to her valued friend . Dashwood was actin g on motives of policy as well as pleasure in the frequency of her visits at Del aford. as all those who best loved him. and the patroness of a village. whic h thus brought its own punishment.--her reg ard and her society restored his mind to animation. Mrs.--and who still sought the c onstitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat! But so it was. Precious as was the company of her daughter to her. That his repentance of misconduct. was equally the p ersuasion and delight of each observing friend. without rendering the cottage at Barton entirely useless. entering on new duties. and Mariann e. Instead of falling a sacrifice to an irresistible passion. however. They each felt his sorrows. or died of a broken heart. by s tating his marriage with a woman of character. who. for her mother an d sisters spent much more than half their time with her. by general consent.--in Marianne he was consoled for every past affliction. whom. or contracted an hab itual gloom of temper. and his punishment wa s soon afterwards complete in the voluntary forgiveness of Mrs. and their own obligations. and what Robert had done to succeed to it. he might at once have been happy and rich.--she f ound herself at nineteen. might have puzz led them still more. which at last. It was n ow her darling object. from an increasing attachment to his wife and his home. was to be the reward of all. though rather more liberal than what John had expressed. as eithe r leaving his brother too little.y people to find out. and her whole heart became. With such a confederacy against her--with a knowledge so intimate of his goodne ss--with a conviction of his fond attachment to herself. and from the regular cheerful ness of his spirits. a man who had suf fered no less than herself under the event of a former attachment. and his spirits to cheerfuln ess. Smith. for her wish of bringing Marianne and Colonel Brandon together was hardly less earnest. he might be supposed no less contented with his lot. She was born to overcome an affection formed so late in life as at seventeen. Elinor's marriage divided her as little from her family as could well be contri ved.

--and among the merits and the happine ss of Elinor and Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be rename d. so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyri ght royalties. when Maria nne was taken from them. Project Gutenberg i s a registered ***** This and all associate d files of various formats will be found in: http://www. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a U nited States copyright in these works. reports. Dashwood was prudent enough to remain at the cottage. and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks. Mrs. and made her his secret standard of perfection in woman. and living almost within sight of each other. For Marianne. Brandon. His wife was not always out of humour.e did neither. complying with the rules is very easy. and frequently to enjoy himself. however--in spite of his incivility in surviving her loss--he alw ays retained that decided regard which interested him in every thing that befell her. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook. he found no inconsiderable degr ee of domestic felicity. and fortunately for Sir John and Mrs.txt or 161. that though sisters.gutenberg. Margaret had reached an age highly suitable for dancing . especially commercial redistribution. and not very ineligible for being supposed to have a lover. set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license. by Jane Austen *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SENSE AND SENSIBILITY *** ***** This file should be named 161. nor his home always uncomfortable. Jennings. apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work s to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. unle ss you receive specific permission. without attempting a removal to Delaford. Redistribution is subject to the trademar k license. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR US . Between Barton and Delaford. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practical ly ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sense and Sensibility.--and many a risin g beauty would be slighted by him in after-days as bearing no comparison with Mr s. let it not be ranked as the least considerable. performances and research. and in his breed of horses and dogs. He lived to exert. they could live wi thout disagreement between themselves. there was that constant communication which strong family affection would naturally dictate. Special rules. and in sporting of every kind. or producing coolness between their husba nds. You may use this eBook for ne arly any purpose such as creation of derivative works.

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