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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

on c onveying all their letters to and from the post for them. Marianne's pianoforte was unpacked and properly disposed of. her fac e was handsome. But one must not expect every thing. Lady Middleton had sent a very civil message by him. we may think about building. and their comfort to be an object of real solicitude t o him. for though her former style of life rendered many additions to the la tter indispensable. His countenance was thoroughly good-humoured. and his m anners were as friendly as the style of his letter. a . though I sup pose it would be no difficult matter to widen them. and her address graceful. a nd to offer them every accommodation from his own house and garden in which thei rs might at present be deficient. I could wish the stairs were handsome. and I have some thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them with perhaps a part of the other. Sir John Middleton was a good looking man abou t forty. though perfec tly well-bred. "it is too sm all for our family. moreover. They were. she was reserved. "As for the house itself. which was foll owed before the end of the day by a present of game. who called to welcome them to Barton. and Lady Mid dleton had taken the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child. yet to add and improve was a delight to her. and she had at this time ready money enough to supply all that was wanted of greater elegance t o the apartments. they we re wise enough to be contented with the house as it was. He had formerly visited at Stanhill. by placing around th em books and other possessions. will make it a very snug little cottage. and would not be denie d the satisfaction of sending them his newspaper every day.satisfied. that. Their arrival seemed to affo rd him real satisfaction. Dashwood as soon as she could be assured that her visit would be no inconvenience. and Elinor's drawings were affixed to th e walls of their sitting room. and a bed-chamber and garret above. and the elegance of her appearance was favourable to their wishes. and endeavoring. and pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park every day till they were better settled at home. her ladyship was introduced to them the next day. In such employments as these they were interrupted soon after breakfast the nex t day by the entrance of their landlord. this. Hi s kindness was not confined to words. with a new drawing room which may be easily added. and had nothing to say for herself beyond the most common-place inquiry or remark. for Sir John was very chatty. but we will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the pre sent. denoting her intention of waiting on Mrs. they could not give offence. by shewing that. to be sure. to form themselves a home. Her mann ers had all the elegance which her husband's wanted. But they would have been im proved by some share of his frankness and warmth. a l arge basket full of garden stuff and fruit arrived from the park. but it was too long for his young cousins to remember him. 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. very anxious to see a person on whom so much of their com fort at Barton must depend. as it is too late in the year for improvements. her figure tall and striking. He insisted. as I dare say I shall. though his entreaties were car ried to a point of perseverance beyond civility. of course. I shall see how much I am be fore-hand with the world in the spring. and each of them was bu sy in arranging their particular concerns." said she. for within an hour after he left them. Conversation however was not wanted. and so leave the remainder of that other for an entrance. He said much of his earnest desire of their living in the most sociable t erms with his family." In the mean time. and as this message was answered by an invitation equally pol ite. cold. and we will plan our improvements accord ingly. if I have plenty of money. Perhaps in the spring. Lady Middleton was not more than six or seven and twenty. Thes e parlors are both too small for such parties of our friends as I hope to see of ten collected here. and her visit was long enough to detract something from their first admiration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then talked of head-aches. when Colonel Brandon appeared. I have been once or twice at Delaford for a few days. by way of saying something. with her usual noisy cheer fulness. but it has never been in my power to return to Barton." This. and at length. and already had Marianne been disappointed more than once by a rap at a neighbouring door. and after listening half a minute. when a loud one was suddenly heard which could not be mistake n for one at any other house. Jennings." he replied. "almost ever since. Mrs. it is Willoughby. and began directly to speak of his pleasure at see ing them in London. starting up. and of every thing to which she could decently at tribute her sister's behaviour. and settle my matter s. Colonel. she asked if he had been in London ever since she ha d seen him last. and she immediately left th e room. Jennings. advanced a few s teps towards the stairs. Elinor answered in some distress that she was. making the usual inquiries about their journey. immediately brought back to her reme mbrance all the circumstances of his quitting that place. and the thoughts of both engaged elsew here. Elinor. and the manner in which it was said. how came you to conjure out that I should be in town today?" "I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr. where I have been dining. that he even observed Marianne as she quitted the room. In this calm kind of way. Elinor wished very much to ask whether Willoughby were then in town. Elinor was disappointed too. and she was fearful that her ques tion had implied much more curiosity on the subject than she had ever felt. with some embarrassment.y carriage. but seeming to recollect himself. indeed it is!" and seemed almost ready to t hrow herself into his arms. for it is a long while since I have been at home. could see little of what was passing. returned into the ro om in all the agitation which a conviction of having heard him would naturally p roduce. they contin ued to talk. It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness. and over fatigues. said no more on the subject. Palmer's. "Oh! Colonel. both of them out of spirits. but s he was afraid of giving him pain by any enquiry after his rival. "Is your sister ill?" said he. this could not be borne many seconds. Jennings soon came in. by being much engaged in her own room. 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. Every thing was sil ent. Elinor felt secure of its announcing Willoughby's approach. with the uneasiness an d suspicions they had caused to Mrs. He heard her with the most earnest attention. and Marianne. with such astonis hment and concern. in the ecstasy of her feelings at that instant she could not help exclai ming. as hardly left him the recollection of what civility demanded towards herself. l ow spirits. she opened the door. but I have been forced to look about me a little. I have been as busy as a bee eve r since dinner! But pray. and the frie nds they had left behind. and you know one has always a world of little odd things to do after one has been away for any time. with very little interest on either side. and th en I have had Cartwright to settle with-. "I am monstrous glad to see you--sorry I could not come before--beg you r pardon." . but at the same time her regard for Colonel Brandon ensured his welcome with her. She instantly saw that it was not unnoticed b y him.Lord." said she. The tea things were brou ght in. "Oh. It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs. "Yes. moved towards the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

" With what indignation such a letter as this must be read by Miss Dashwood. that it must bring a confession of his inconstancy. but without saying a word. Jennings laughed again. and flatter myself it will not be broken by any mistake or misapprehension of my actions. for shame. Ma'am. very seriously. for it has been known all over town this ever so long. I entreat your forgiveness of what I can assure you to have been perfectly unin tentional. on opening the door. she put all the letters into Elinor' s hands. you ar e doing a very unkind thing in spreading the report. Elinor drew near. "you are mistaken. Because you are s o sly about it yourself. kissed her affectionately several times.ive yourself any longer. and seating herself on the bed. "MY DEAR MADAM. and though I am quite at a loss to discover in what point I could be so unfortunate as to offend you." Mrs. when you understand that my affe ctions have been long engaged elsewhere. Indeed. and then covering her face with her handkerchief. read as follows: "Bond Street. I tell every body of it and so does Charlotte. w here. My esteem for your whole family is very sincere. "Your most obedient "humble servant. watched by her till this excess of suffering had somewhat spent itself. I shall reproach myself for not having been more guarded in my professions of that esteem. which you so obligingly bestowed on me. That I should ever h ave meant more you will allow to be impossible. before she began it. 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. January. I am much concerned to find there was anything in m y behaviour last night that did not meet your approbation. It is with great regret that I obey your commands in returning the letters with which I have been honoured from you. and eager at all events to know what Willoughby had written. before this engagement is fulfilled. but Elinor had not spirits to say more. shocking as it was to witness it. almost screamed with agony. and two or three others laying by her. took her h and. and then gave way to a burst of te ars. I can tell you. Miss Dashwood! how can you talk so? Don't we all know th at it must be a match. she was not aware tha t such language could be suffered to announce it. acknowledged no breach of faith. I believ e. as to send a l etter so impudently cruel: a letter which. I shall never reflect on my former acquaintance with your family in D evonshire without the most grateful pleasure. Though aware. dear Madam." "Indeed. I do assure you that nothing would surprise me more tha n to hear of their being going to be married. come. The latter. seemed to feel all the tenderness of this behaviour. thoug h unable to speak. and did not I know that your sister came to town with me on purpose to buy wedding clothes? Come. may be imagined. and all day long. "I have just had the honour of receiving your letter. and then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter. and confirm their separation for ever. denied a ll peculiar affection whatever--a letter of which every line was an insult. which at first was scarcely less violent than Marianne's. "I am. hurried away to their room. she saw Marianne stretched on the bed. almost choked by grief. instead of bringing with his desire o f a release any professions of regret. must have its course. Elinor." said Elinor. for which I beg to return my sincere acknowledgments. but it is no such thing. who knew that such grief. but if I have been so unfortunate as to give rise to a belief of more than I felt. and . "JOHN WILLOUGHBY. and you will find that you have though you will not believe me now. and afte r some time thus spent in joint affliction. you think nobody else has any senses. and it will not be many weeks. and the lock of hair. this won't do." "For shame. one letter in her hand. or meant to express. 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.

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

before he chose to put an end to it. I have been expecting to hear from you. but I will not depend on it. You CAN have no grief. on your side. directly ran over the contents of all. Mine is a misery which nothing can do awa y. and I hope very soon to receive your personal assurance of its being oth erwise."No. "How surprised you will be. when you know that I am in town. which was what her sister had sent him on their arrival in town. was a temptation we could not r esist.But I cannot talk. no. He has broken no faith with me. as it might have been. "M. 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. was to t his effect. no. At any rate I shall expect you to-morrow. where there was a dance. Jennings. because we are generally out by one. You had better come earlier ano ther time. The first." "Engagement!" cried Marianne." "No engagement!" "No." Elinor said no more. would have made the blow more dreadful. I have been told that you were asked to be of t he party. though with Mrs. and turning again to the three letters which now raised a much stronger curiosity than before. and still more to see you. I wish you may receive this in time to come here to-night. and you not there. Pray call again as soon as possible. For the present." "You must not talk so. An opportun ity of coming hither. was in these words:-"I cannot express my disappointment in having missed you the day before yesterd ay. he is not so unworthy as you believe him. "there has been no engagement. Berkeley Street. January. on receiving this. every hour of the day. and explai n the reason of my having expected this in vain. Marianne. 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." "And you will never see me otherwise. We were last night at Lady Middl eton's. which had been written on the morning after the dance at the M iddletons'. "he loves you." "But he told you that he loved you. but never professedly dec lared. and I think you will feel something more than surprise." Her second note. Sometimes I thought it had been--but it never was. if that could be the case." "Yes--no--never absolutely. It was every day implied.D. and only you." "Yet you wrote to him?"-"Yes--could that be wrong after all that had passed?-. But could it be so? You must be very much altered indeed since we part ed. Willoughby." cried Marianne wildly. . adieu. But I will not suppose this po ssible." "I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state. Have you no comforts? no friends? Is your loss such as leaves no opening for consolation? Much as you suffer now.

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

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

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

let his house. Lord! no wonder she has been looking so bad and so cast down this last w eek or two. "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. will not leave her room again this evening. I believe that will be best for her. Is there nothing one can get to comfort her? Poor dear. and you know young people like to be laughed at abou t them. that a man should use such a pretty girl so ill! Bu t when there is plenty of money on one side. nothing in the way of pleasure can ever be given up by the young men of this age. and make a thorough reform at once? I warrant you. Well. as soon as she was gone. but is there no round game she cares for?" "Dear ma'am. Jennings. Marianne. as the consciousness of all thi s was forced by continual repetition on Marianne. Ellison would not be sorry to have Miss Grey mar ried. but when a young man. indeed I hardly ever heard her mentioned. stylish girl th ey say." "Aye. for she and Mrs. But that won't do now-a-days. J ennings's endeavours to cure a disappointment in love. But then you know. she mar ried a very wealthy man. and next to none on the other. seen a check to all mirth. my dear. Biddy Henshawe. be who he will. 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."-"And who are the Ellisons?" "Her guardians. and that will amuse her a little. I suppose. Did you ever see her? a smart. my dear. We ll. this kindness is quite unnecessary. she directly got up and hurried out of the room. comes and makes lov e to a pretty girl. I remember her aunt very well. and go to bed. I dare say. for I am sure she wants rest. No wonder! dashing about with his curricle and hunters! Well. turn off his servants. he has no business to fly off from hi s word only because he grows poor. and a richer girl is ready to have him.relation of all the news of the day. in such a case. but not handsome. Why d on't he. "Poor soul!" cried Mrs. in the sad countenance of her sister. As soon. it won't come before it's wanted. however. to moan by herself. sell his horses. it don't signify talking. Fifty thousand po unds! and by all accounts." "Do you know what kind of a girl Miss Grey is? Is she said to be amiable?" "I never heard any harm of her. and promises marriage. that one day Miss Walker hinted to her. And so the letter that came today finished it! Poor soul! I am sure if I h ad had a notion of it. and a pretty choice she has made!--What now. by a variety of sweetmeat s and olives. how should I guess such a thing? I made sure of its being nothin g but a common love letter. Taylor did say this morning. by-and-by we shall have a few friends. I am sure if I knew of any thing she would like. Miss Marianne would have been ready to wait till matters came round. I shall persuade her if I can to go early to bed. Had not Elinor. With a hasty exclamation of Misery. for they say he is all to pieces. Ellison could never agree. she could have been entertained by Mrs. it seems quite cruel to let her be alone." after pausing a moment--"your poor sis ter is gone to her own room. and a good fire. and Mrs. But the family are all rich together. that she believed Mr. But now she is of age and may choose for herself. she could stay no longer. for this matter I suppose has been hanging over her head as long as that. excep t that Mrs. Let her name her own supper. I would send all over the town for it. and a sign to her sister not to follow her. I would not have joked her about it for all my money. Lord! how concerned Sir John and my daughters will be when they hear it! . i t is the oddest thing to me. Wha t shall we play at? She hates whist I know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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;

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

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

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

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

he asked Elinor to walk with him to Condu it Street. and on Colonel Brando n's coming in soon after himself. if I could possibly find a spare half hour. or something like it. and she should certainly wait on Mrs. that really she had no leisure for going any see his sisters again. They are excellent neighbours to you in the country. they are related to you. he eyed him with a curiosity which seemed to s ay. But so it ought to be. As soon as they were out of the house. and was not sorry to be spared the necessity of answering him. As my mother-in-law's relations." said he. that she should not stand upon ceremony. It was a great satisfaction to us to hear it. for they were all cousin s. assured him directly. is more than I can express. His visit was duly paid." Mrs. John Dashwood ver y soon. and repeating his hope of being able to call on them the n ext day. upon my word. Jennings." "I am glad of it. Harry was vastly pleased." "Me. I understan d. But tomorrow I think I shall certainly be able to call in Berkeley Street. Jennings. 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. He came with a pretence at an apology from their siste r-in-law. Ferrars. I shall be happy to show them every respect. The weather was rem arkably fine. and be introduced to your friend Mrs. "but it was impossibl e. they are people of large fortune. extremely glad indeed. "I wished very much to call upon you yesterday. "Who is Colonel Brandon? Is he a man of fortune?" "Yes. and you all seemed to enjoy it beyond any thing. was introduced to Mrs. Jennings." Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother. though calm. brother! what do you mean?" . he said. it rather gave them satisfaction. I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment in life. and she readily consented. however. for not coming too. "but she was so much engaged with her mother. were perfectly kind. and bring her sisters to see her. He seems a most gentlemanlike man. I assure you. Elinor. I under stand she is a woman of very good fortune. His manners to THEM. who came to tell her that his mistress waited for them at the door. most attentively civil. Mr. Jennings's servant. but one has always so much to do on first coming to town. to be equally civil to HIM. his enquiries began. Their attention to our comfort." "I am extremely glad to hear it. Jennings at the door of her carriage. their friendliness in every particular. you must intr oduce me to THEM. to Mrs. Dashwood attended them down stairs. TH IS morning I had fully intended to call on you. that he only wanted to know him to be rich. And the Middletons too. and I think. that ever was. 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 introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton. Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town two days. After staying with them half an hour. for we were obliged to take Harry to see the wild beasts at Exeter Exchange. by the arrival of Mrs." "Excellent indeed. and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs. and his inquiries af ter their mother were respectful and attentive. took leave. he has very good property in Dorsetshire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But. aye. When Mrs. because he has two thousand a-year himself. tha n by anything else. but I suppose two or three months will complete his ordination. for a house that to my knowledge has five sitting rooms on the ground-floor. and of whom therefore she must have a great deal to say." "Two or three months!" cried Mrs.It seems quite ridiculous. h e thinks that nobody else can marry on less. Colonel Bran don's only object is to be of use to Mr. for Mrs. Jennings. 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. ma'am. we must touch up the Colon el to do some thing to the parsonage. and make it comfortable for them. and an explanation immediately too k place." said Elinor. Ferrars. h er mind was so much more occupied by the important secret in her possession.l the words and endeavour to comprehend all the feelings of Edward. Ferrars. I shall be paying a visit at Delaford Parsonage before Michaelmas. and. if I am alive. and how soon will he be ready?--For it seems all to depend upon that. the parsonage is but a small one. Ferrars!" The deception could not continue after this. before L ucy goes to it. or the preparation necessary. to reflect on her own with discontent. 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. of cour se." "My dear ma'am. my dear. Sure somebody else might be found that would do as well." said Elinor. "Lord! my dear. that I can har dly even conjecture as to the time." she cried." "The Colonel is a ninny." said she." "Well. "I sent you up the young man." "But Colonel Brandon does not seem to have any idea of the living's being enoug h to allow them to marry. without any material loss of happiness to either. "what can you be thinking of?-. s omebody that is in orders already. "Aye. "and very likely MAY be out of repair . that she reverted to it again as soon as Elinor appeared. as to the probability of their not waiting for any thing more. though she returned from seeing people whom she h ad never seen before. and still without forfeiting her expectation of the fir st. Take my word for it. Jennings only exchanged one form of delight for another. that had been used to live in Barto n cottage!-. "I know so little of these kind of forms. that." Elinor was quite of her opinion. "Well. I do think it is not worth while to wait two or three months for him. CHAPTER 41 . Jennings came home. and I think the housekeeper told me could make up fifteen beds!--and to you too. and I am sure I shan't go if Lucy an't there. by which both gained considerable amusement for the moment. but to hear a man apologising." "Lord bless you." "Really. THAT was not very likely. as I thought. my dear. how calmly you talk of it. my dear. after the first ebullit ion of surprise and satisfaction was over. 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.Why.

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

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

had heard of the living. and their effect on Robert.--His reflection s ended thus. to the prejudice of his banished brother. 'It would have been beyond comparison. I suppose. Has Colonel Brandon been with you lately?" Elinor had heard enough. The idea of Edward's being a clergym . all things considered. There is no doub t of your doing exceedingly well--quite as well. or I should not repeat it. by the gay unconcern. Dashwood.s in the world. though very different. or better. because I knew how much it must plea se you. for he. earn ed only by his own dissipated course of life. and that brother's integrity. and Elin or was left to improve her acquaintance with Robert. it must be the same to Miss Morton whether she marry Edward or Robert." Elinor was silent. and John was also for a short time silent. John Dashwood. if not to gratify her vanity. after a short pause. to agitate her nerves and fill her mind. After a few moments' chat. recollecting that Fanny was yet un informed of her sister's being there.--and she was therefore glad to b e spared from the necessity of saying much in reply herself. who. they are bo th very agreeable young men: I do not know that one is superior to the other. and raise her self-impor tance.' she said. before he began to speak of E dward. perhaps. I was exceedingly pleased t o hear that Mrs. there can be no difference. and speaking in an awfu l whisper. and she would be glad to compound NOW for nothing worse. cal mly replied. and I have it from her--T hat in short. He laughed most immoderately. "Of ONE thing.--and as to any thing else. has no choice in the affair. Ferrars say it herself--but her daughter DID. as she had given them to John. Not that you have any reason to regret. for Robert will now to all intents and purposes be considered as the eldest son. B ut I thought I would just tell you of this. because I know it must gratify you. my dear Elinor. and was very inquisitive on the sub ject. 'the least evil of the two. 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. Elinor repeated the particulars of it. I have good reason to think--indeed I have it from the best authority. too. from your manner of speaking. smiling at the grave and decisive importance of her brother's tone. the happy self-complacency of his manner while enjoying so unfair a division of his mother's love and liberality. 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. "We think NOW. and from the danger of hearing any thing more from her brother. Ferrars considered it in that light--a very gratifying circumst ance you know to us all." Elinor.--and I WILL do it. was confirming her most unfavourable opinion of his head and heart. was not less striking than it had been on HIM." kindly taking her hand. it would not have given her half the vexation that THIS does."--said Mr." "Choice!--how do you mean?" "I only mean that I suppose. quitted the room in quest of her. "The lady. whatever objections there might be against a certain--a certain co nnection--you understand me--it would have been far preferable to her." "Certainly.' But however. They had scarcely been two minutes by themselves. by the entrance of Mr. Robert Ferra rs. my dear sister. "of ROBERT'S marrying Miss Morton." Elinor said no more.--"I may assure you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It is hardly worth while. and in spite of herself made her think him sin cere." "Has she?"--he cried. a little softened. had I really loved.--and with a meanness." he replied. To avoid a comparative poverty. what is more. because I did not THEN know what it was to love. and he r behaviour to me almost from the first. it had been for some time my intention to re-establish my circumstances by marrying a woman of fortune. To attach myself to your sister. 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. trying to engage her regard.But I have done it. I had no other intention. When I first became intimate in your family. was of a kind--It is astonishing. to have withstood such tenderness!--Is ther e a man on earth who could have done it?--Yes. was to set me free. But have I ever known it?--We ll may it be doubted.-. yet that event being uncertain. "believe yourself at one time a ttached to her?" "To have resisted such attractions. therefore. no contemptuous look. Miss Dashwood. that my heart should have been so in sensible! But at first I must confess. But she shall forgive me again. stopped him. for." "I insist on you hearing the whole of it. "I do not know. by insensible deg rees. and possibly far distant. turning her eyes on him with the most angry conte mpt. and I had always been expensive." said Elinor. and on more reasona ble grounds.Do no t let me be pained by hearing any thing more on the subject. more pleasantly than I had ever done before. and what SHE Willoughby to her remembrance. could I have sacrificed my feelin gs to vanity. sincerely fond of her. Smith. or even be fore. in the same eager tone. could I have sacrificed hers?-. for you to relate. always in the habit of associating with pe ople of better income than myself."Then she has forgiven me befor e she ought to have done it. giving way to feelings w hich I had always been too much in the habit of indulging. to avarice?--or. I found myself. and though the death of my old cousin. or what diabolical motive you may have imputed to me. and thought fulness on his own. or for me to list en any longer. by eve ry means in my power. was not a thing to be thought of. I did not know the extent of the injury I meditated .--for Marianne DOES--she has LONG forgiven you." Miss Dashwood. selfishness. you may be satisfied already. Carele ss of her happiness.-. by raising myself to afflue nce.--But one thing may be said for me: even in that hor rid state of selfish vanity.--"how YOU may have accounted for my behaviour to your sister .-.--NOW will you listen to me?" Elinor bowed her assent.--it is worth the trial however.Perhaps you will hardl y think the better of me. M rs. which her affection and her soc iety would have deprived of all its horrors. to make myself pleasing to her. after a pause of expectation on her side. I believe. at this point. withou t a thought of returning it. "If that is all. I have. You r sister's lovely person and interesting manners could not but please me. had added to my debts. can ever repr obate too much--I was acting in this manner. "My fortune was never la rge. my vanity only was elevated by it. thinking only of my own amusement. cruelty--which no indignant. and you shall hear eve ry thing. and the happiest hours of my life were what I spent . Willoughby." said he. Such a beginning as this cannot be followed by any thing. when I reflect on what it was. Every year since my coming of age. lost every thing that could make it a blessing." "You did then. by saying. Mr. even of yours. I endeavoured.

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. Smith?" "She taxed me with the offence at once. her ignorance of the world--ever y thing was against me. sir. I imagine by some distant relation. however. I believe. had the power of creating any return. always happy. however. the formality of her notions.--"Mrs. I wish--I heartily wish it had n ever been. as soon as I could engage her alone. If the violence of her passions." cried Willoughby. always gay. of an affair. however." he added. whose a ffection for me--(may I say it?) was scarcely less warm than hers. and what said Mrs. and my confusion may be guessed. of scrupling to engag e my faith where my honour was already bound." "Well. it ended in a total breach. 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. that I was a cunning fool. a nd I often. A discovery too k place. a connection--but I need not explain myself farther. Her affection for me deserved better treatment." "I have. SHE must be a saint. whose interest it was to depr ive me of her favour. towards that unfortunate girl--I must say it. Smith had somehow or other been informed. the very little portion of my time that I had bestowed on her. to defend myself. I will not reason here--nor will I stop for YOU to expatiate on the absurdity. providing with great circumspection for a possible opportunity of making myself contemptible and wretched for ever. to just ify the attentions I had so invariably paid her. Even THEN."--here he hesitated and looked down. to doubt the mora lity of my conduct in general. Do not think yourself excused by an y weakness. She was previously disposed. The pu rity of her life. for a very sh ort time. But I have injured more than herself. my resoluti on was taken. in m y present visit. from an unwillingness to enter into an engagement while my circumstances were so greatly embarrassed." "But. to ruin all my resolution. looking at her with an heightened colour and an enquiring ey e--"your particular intimacy--you have probably heard the whole story long ago. and openly assure her of an aff ection which I had already taken such pains to display. The event has proved. colouring likewise. I do not mean to justify myself. and I have injured one. any natural defect of understanding on her side. and I had determined. and common sense might have told h er how to find it out.with her when I felt my intentions were strictly honourable. however. and the worse than absurdity. with great self-reproach. I confess is beyond my compre hension." he warmly replied." "Remember. Could it be an impartial one? I acknowledge that her situation and her character ought to ha ve been respected by me. and was moreover discontented with the very littl e attention. when fully determined on paying my addresses to her . "I did not recollect that I had omitted to give her my direction. the weakness of her understanding--I do not me an. By one measure I might ha . And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business. she was reduc ed to the extremest indigence. that while you were enjoying yourse lf in Devonshire pursuing fresh schemes. and whose min d--Oh! how infinitely superior!"-"Your indifference." returned Elinor. and with it all my comfort. from day to day. "from whom you received the account. recall the tenderness which. before I could have an oppor tunity of speaking with her in private--a circumstance occurred--an unlucky circ umstance. and vain was every e ndeavour to soften it. I allowed myself most improperly to put off. You must have known. in the wanton cruel ty so evident on yours. and because I was a libertine. I did NOT know it. and hardening her heart anew aga inst any compassion for him. At last. the moment of do ing it. "I have heard it all. In short. The matter itself I could not deny. upon my soul. But in the interim--in t he interim of the very few hours that were to pass. and my feelings bl ameless.

--Then came your dear mother to torture me farther. as I walked from the cottage to Allenham. Mr. rascally folly of my own heart. In that point. her deep regret. I undervalued my own mag nanimity. when I told her that I was obliged to leave Devonshire so immediately--I never shall forget it--united too with such r eliance. Elinor first spoke. A heavy scene however awaited me. so firmly resolved within my self on doing right! A few hours were to have engaged her to me for ever. was a point of long debate. The struggle was great--but it ended too soon. Thank Heaven! it DID t orture me. the picture so soothing!--oh. I had left her only the evening before. with all her kindness and confidence. In the height of her morality. which I was naturally inclined to feel. however. Smith and myself--and I resolved therefo re on calling at the cottage. as the event declared. reproachfully. I found her alone. I saw her. Her sor row.-. 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. my thorough conviction of her attachment to me--it was all insufficient to out weigh that dread of poverty. beyond a doubt. I cannot think of it. I was miserable. "Well. some apology was therefore necessary for my breaking this engagement. and keep to my resolution. sir. grew impatient for his depar ture. would be dreadful. "Did you tell her that you should soon return?" "I do not know what I told her. You were all gone I do not know where. My journey to town-travelling with my own horses.Why was it necessary to call?" "It was necessary to my own pride." said Elinor.--I was engaged to dine with you on that very day. or the rest of the neighbourhood. and saw her miserable. and in all likelihood much more than was justified by the future. God!--what a hard-hearted rascal I was!" They were both silent for a few moments. I could not bear to leave the country in a m anner that might lead you. good woman! she offered to forgi ve the past. Well. I felt. Miss Dashwood. that all my past sufferings under it are only triumph and exultation to me now. delighted w ith every body! But in this. and went to those to whom. or deliver it in person. The sight of your dear siste r. it was a blessed journey!" He stopped. or get the better of those false ideas of the neces sity of riches.--It won't do. such confidence in me!--Oh. satisfied with myself. I went. and I even doubted whether I could see her ag ain." he replied. 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. our last interview of friendship. My affection for Marianne . To see Ma rianne. and I remember how happy. a nd left her miserable--and left her hoping never to see her again. "and this is all?" . "less than was due to the past. how gay were my spiri ts. impatiently. and expensive society ha d increased. I had reason to believe myself secure of my present wife. you cannot have an idea of the comfor t it gives me to look back on my own misery. left all that I loved. though pitying saved myself. I approached her with a sense of guilt that almost took from me the power of dissembling. for I went. so fully. and I persuaded myself to think that nothing else in common pr udence remained for me to do. I owe such a grudge to myself for t he stupid. was really dreadful. to suspect any part of what had really passed between Mrs. who. to heighten the matter. and. if I would marry Eliza. if I chos e to address her. I was only indifferent. however. "a note would h ave answered every purpose. her disappointment. Willoughby?" said Elinor." "Why did you call. But whether I should wr ite this apology. before I could l eave Devonshire. in my way to Honiton. at best. That could not be--and I was formally dismi ssed from her favour and her house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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