101:003,00[U  ]| <SENSE AND SENSIBILITY.>
101:003,01['  ]| The family of Dashwood had been long settled in Sussex.
101:003,02['  ]| Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland*Park,
101:003,03['  ]| in the centre of their property, where, for many
101:003,04['  ]| generations, they had lived in so respectable a manner,
101:003,05['  ]| as to engage the general good opinion of their surrounding
101:003,06['  ]| acquaintance.  The late owner of this estate was a single
101:003,07['  ]| man, who lived to a very advanced age, and who for many
101:003,08['  ]| years of his life, had a constant companion and housekeeper
101:003,09['  ]| in his sister.  But her death, which happened ten
101:003,10['  ]| years before his own, produced a great alteration in his
101:003,11['  ]| home; for to supply her loss, he invited and received
101:003,12['  ]| into his house the family of his nephew Mr%*Henry*Dashwood,
101:003,13['  ]| the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the
101:003,14['  ]| person to whom he intended to bequeath it.  In the
101:003,15['  ]| society of his nephew and niece, and their children, the
101:003,16['  ]| old Gentleman's days were comfortably spent.  His
101:003,17['  ]| attachment to them all increased.  The constant attention
101:003,18['  ]| of Mr% and Mrs%*Henry*Dashwood to his wishes, which
101:003,19['  ]| proceeded not merely from interest, but from goodness
101:003,20['  ]| of heart, gave him every degree of solid comfort which his
101:003,21['  ]| age could receive; and the cheerfulness of the children
101:003,22['  ]| added a relish to his existence.
101:003,23['  ]| By a former marriage, Mr%*Henry*Dashwood had one
101:003,24['  ]| son:  by his present lady, three daughters.  The son,
101:003,25['  ]| a steady respectable young man, was amply provided
101:003,26['  ]| for by the fortune of his mother, which had been large,
101:003,27['  ]| and half of which devolved on him on his coming of age.
101:003,28['  ]| By his own marriage, likewise, which happened soon
101:003,29['  ]| afterwards, he added to his wealth.  To him therefore
101:003,30['  ]| the succession to the Norland estate was not so really
101:003,31['  ]| important as to his sisters; for their fortune, independent
101:004,01['  ]| of what might arise to them from their father's inheriting
101:004,02['  ]| that property, could be but small.  Their mother had
101:004,03['  ]| nothing, and their father only seven thousand pounds in
101:004,04['  ]| his own disposal;  for the remaining moiety of his first
101:004,05['  ]| wife's fortune was also secured to her child, and he had
101:004,06['  ]| only a life interest in it.
101:004,07['  ]| The old Gentleman died; his will was read, and like
101:004,08['  ]| almost every other will, gave as much disappointment as
101:004,09['  ]| pleasure.  He was neither so unjust, nor so ungrateful,
101:004,10['  ]| as to leave his estate from his nephew; ~~ but he left it
101:004,11['  ]| to him on such terms as destroyed half the value of the
101:004,12['  ]| bequest.  Mr%*Dashwood had wished for it more for the
101:004,13['  ]| sake of his wife and daughters than for himself or his son:
101:004,14['  ]| ~~ but to his son, and his son's son, a child of four years
101:004,15['  ]| old, it was secured, in such a way, as to leave to himself
101:004,16['  ]| no power of providing for those who were most dear to
101:004,17['  ]| him, and who most needed a provision, by any charge
101:004,18['  ]| on the estate, or by any sale of its valuable woods.  The
101:004,19['  ]| whole was tied up for the benefit of this child, who, in
101:004,20['  ]| occasional visits with his father and mother at Norland,
101:004,21['  ]| had so far gained on the affections of his uncle, by such
101:004,22['  ]| attractions as are by no means unusual in children of two
101:004,23['  ]| or three years old; an imperfect articulation, an earnest
101:004,24['  ]| desire of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and
101:004,25['  ]| a great deal of noise, as to outweigh all the value of all
101:004,26['  ]| the attention which, for years, he had received from his
101:004,27['  ]| niece and her daughters.  He meant not to be unkind
101:004,28['  ]| however, and, as a mark of his affection for the three
101:004,29['  ]| girls, he left them a thousand pounds a-piece.
101:004,30['  ]| Mr%*Dashwood's disappointment was, at first, severe;
101:004,31['  ]| but his temper was cheerful and sanguine, and he might
101:004,32['  ]| reasonably hope to live many years, and by living
101:004,33['  ]| economically, lay by a considerable sum from the produce
101:004,34['  ]| of an estate already large, and capable of almost immediate
101:004,35['  ]| improvement.  But the fortune, which had been so tardy
101:004,36['  ]| in coming, was his only one twelvemonth.  He survived his
101:004,37['  ]| uncle no longer; and ten thousand pounds, including the late
101:004,38['  ]| legacies, was all that remained for his widow and daughters.
101:005,01['  ]| His son was sent for, as soon as his danger was known,
101:005,02['  ]| and to him Mr%*Dashwood recommended, with all the
101:005,03['  ]| strength and urgency which illness could command, the
101:005,04['  ]| interest of his mother-in-law and sisters.
101:005,05['  ]| Mr%*John*Dashwood had not the strong feelings of
101:005,06['  ]| the rest of the family; but he was affected by a recommendation
101:005,07['  ]| of such a nature at such a time, and he promised
101:005,08['  ]| to do every*thing in his power to make them comfortable.
101:005,09['  ]| His father was rendered easy by such an assurance, and
101:005,10['  ]| Mr%*John*Dashwood had then leisure to consider how much
101:005,11['  ]| there might prudently be in his power to do for them.
101:005,12['  ]| He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be
101:005,13['  ]| rather cold*hearted, and rather selfish, is to be ill-disposed:
101:005,14['  ]| but he was, in general, well respected; for he conducted
101:005,15['  ]| himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary
101:005,16['  ]| duties.  Had he married a more amiable woman, he might
101:005,17['  ]| have been made still more respectable than he was: ~~
101:005,18['  ]| he might even have been made amiable himself; for he
101:005,19['  ]| was very young when he married, and very fond of his
101:005,20['  ]| wife.  But Mrs%*John*Dashwood was a strong caricature
101:005,21['  ]| of himself; ~~ more narrow-minded and selfish.
101:005,22['  ]| When he gave his promise to his father, he meditated
101:005,23['  ]| within himself to increase the fortunes of his sisters by
101:005,24['  ]| the present of a thousand pounds a-piece.  He then really
101:005,25['  ]| thought himself equal to it.  The prospect of four thousand
101:005,26['  ]| a-year, in addition to his present income, besides the
101:005,27['  ]| remaining half of his own mother's fortune, warmed his
101:005,28['  ]| heart and made him feel capable of generosity.
101:005,28@f   | ~~ "Yes,
101:005,29@f   | he would give them three thousand pounds:  it would
101:005,30@f   | be liberal and handsome!  It would be enough to make
101:005,31@f   | them completely easy.  Three thousand pounds!  he
101:005,32@f   | could spare so considerable a sum with little inconvenience."
101:005,33['  ]| ~~ He thought of it all day long, and for many days
101:005,34['  ]| successively, and he did not repent.
101:005,35['  ]| No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs%*John*Dashwood,
101:005,36['  ]| without sending any notice of her intention
101:005,37['  ]| to her mother-in-law, arrived with her child and their
101:005,38['  ]| attendants.  No*one could dispute her right to come;
101:006,01['  ]| the house was her husband's from the moment of his
101:006,02['  ]| father's decease; but the indelicacy of her conduct was
101:006,03['  ]| so much the greater, and to a woman in Mrs%*Dashwood's
101:006,04['  ]| situation, with only common feelings, must have been
101:006,05['  ]| highly unpleasing; ~~ but in \her\ mind there was a sense
101:006,06['  ]| of honour so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any
101:006,07['  ]| offence of the kind, by whomsoever given or received,
101:006,08['  ]| was to her a source of immoveable disgust.  Mrs%*John*Dashwood
101:006,09['  ]| had never been a favourite with any of her
101:006,10['  ]| husband's family; but she had had no opportunity, till
101:006,11['  ]| the present, of shewing them with how little attention
101:006,12['  ]| to the comfort of other people she could act when occasion
101:006,13['  ]| required it.
101:006,14['  ]| So acutely did Mrs%*Dashwood feel this ungracious
101:006,15['  ]| behaviour, and so earnestly did she despise her daughter-in-law
101:006,16['  ]| for it, that, on the arrival of the latter, she would
101:006,17['  ]| have quitted the house for*ever, had not the entreaty of
101:006,18['  ]| her eldest girl induced her first to reflect on the propriety
101:006,19['  ]| of going, and her own tender love for all her three children
101:006,20['  ]| determined her afterwards to stay, and for their sakes
101:006,21['  ]| avoid a breach with their brother.
101:006,22['  ]| Elinor, this eldest daughter whose advice was so
101:006,23['  ]| effectual, possessed a strength of understanding, and
101:006,24['  ]| coolness of judgment, which qualified her, though only
101:006,25['  ]| nineteen, to be the counsellor of her mother, and enabled
101:006,26['  ]| her frequently to counteract, to the advantage of them
101:006,27['  ]| all, that eagerness of mind in Mrs%*Dashwood which must
101:006,28['  ]| generally have led to imprudence.  She had an excellent
101:006,29['  ]| heart; ~~ her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings
101:006,30['  ]| were strong; but she knew how to govern them:  it was
101:006,31['  ]| a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn, and which
101:006,32['  ]| one of her sisters had resolved never to be taught.
101:006,33['  ]| Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal
101:006,34['  ]| to Elinor's.  She was sensible and clever; but eager in
101:006,35['  ]| every*thing; her sorrows, her joys, could have no
101:006,36['  ]| moderation.  She was generous, amiable, interesting:
101:006,37['  ]| she was every*thing but prudent.  The resemblance
101:006,38['  ]| between her and her mother was strikingly great.
101:007,01['  ]| Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's
101:007,02['  ]| sensibility; but by Mrs%*Dashwood it was valued and
101:007,03['  ]| cherished.  They encouraged each other now in the
101:007,04['  ]| violence of their affliction.  The agony of grief which
101:007,05['  ]| overpowered them at first, was voluntarily renewed,
101:007,06['  ]| was sought for, was created again and again.  They
101:007,07['  ]| gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking
101:007,08['  ]| increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could
101:007,09['  ]| afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation
101:007,10['  ]| in future.  Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but
101:007,11['  ]| still she could struggle, she could exert herself.  She
101:007,12['  ]| could consult with her brother, could receive her sister-in-law
101:007,13['  ]| on her arrival, and treat her with proper attention;
101:007,14['  ]| and could strive to rouse her mother to similar exertion,
101:007,15['  ]| and encourage her to similar forbearance.
101:007,16['  ]| Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humoured well-disposed
101:007,17['  ]| girl; but as she had already imbibed a good
101:007,18['  ]| deal of Marianne's romance, without having much of her
101:007,19['  ]| sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal her sisters
101:007,20['  ]| at a more advanced period of life.
102:008,01['  ]| Mrs%*John*Dashwood now installed herself mistress
102:008,02['  ]| of Norland; and her mother and sisters-in-law were
102:008,03['  ]| degraded to the condition of visitors.  As such, however,
102:008,04['  ]| they were treated by her with quiet civility; and by
102:008,05['  ]| her husband with as much kindness as he could feel
102:008,06['  ]| towards any*body beyond himself, his wife, and their
102:008,07['  ]| child.  He really pressed them, with some earnestness,
102:008,08['  ]| to consider Norland as their home; and, as no plan
102:008,09['  ]| appeared so eligible to Mrs%*Dashwood as remaining there
102:008,10['  ]| till she could accommodate herself with a house in the
102:008,11['  ]| neighbourhood, his invitation was accepted.
102:008,12['  ]| A continuance in a place where every*thing reminded her
102:008,13['  ]| of former delight, was exactly what suited her mind.  In
102:008,14['  ]| seasons of cheerfulness, no temper could be more cheerful
102:008,15['  ]| than hers, or possess, in a greater degree, that sanguine
102:008,16['  ]| expectation of happiness which is happiness itself.  But in
102:008,17['  ]| sorrow she must be equally carried away by her fancy, and
102:008,18['  ]| as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy.
102:008,19['  ]| Mrs%*John*Dashwood did not at all approve of what
102:008,20['  ]| her husband intended to do for his sisters.
102:008,20@g   | To take
102:008,21@g   | three thousand pounds from the fortune of their dear
102:008,22@g   | little boy, would be impoverishing him to the most
102:008,23@g   | dreadful degree.
102:008,23['  ]| She begged him to
102:008,23@g   | think again on the
102:008,24@g   | subject. How could he answer it to himself to rob his
102:008,25@g   | child, and his only child too, of so large a sum?  And
102:008,26@g   | what possible claim could the Miss*Dashwoods, who
102:008,27@g   | were related to him only by half blood, which she considered
102:008,28@g   | as no relationship at all, have on his generosity
102:008,29@g   | to so large an amount.  It was very well known that no
102:008,30@g   | affection was ever supposed to exist between the children
102:008,31@g   | of any man by different marriages; and why was he to
102:008,32@g   | ruin himself, and their poor little Harry, by giving away
102:008,33@g   | all his money to his half sisters?
102:009,01[F  ]| "It was my father's last request to me,"
102:009,01['  ]| replied her
102:009,02['  ]| husband,
102:009,02[F  ]| "that I should assist his widow and daughters."
102:009,03[G  ]| "He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say;
102:009,04[G  ]| ten to one but he was light-headed at the time.  Had he
102:009,05[G  ]| been in his right senses, he could not have thought of
102:009,06[G  ]| such a thing as begging you to give away half your fortune
102:009,07[G  ]| from your own child."
102:009,08[F  ]| "He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear
102:009,09[F  ]| Fanny; he only requested me, in general terms, to assist
102:009,10[F  ]| them, and make their situation more comfortable than
102:009,11[F  ]| it was in his power to do.  Perhaps it would have been as
102:009,12[F  ]| well if he had left it wholly to myself.  He could hardly
102:009,13[F  ]| suppose I should neglect them.  But as he required the
102:009,14[F  ]| promise, I could not do less than give it:  at least I thought
102:009,15[F  ]| so at the time.  The promise, therefore, was given, and
102:009,16[F  ]| must be performed.  Something must be done for them
102:009,17[F  ]| whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home."
102:009,18[G  ]| "Well, then, \let\ something be done for them; but
102:009,19[G  ]| \that\ something need not be three thousand pounds.
102:009,20[G  ]| Consider,"
102:009,20['  ]| she added,
102:009,20[G  ]| "that when the money is once
102:009,21[G  ]| parted with, it never can return.  Your sisters will marry,
102:009,22[G  ]| and it will be gone for*ever.  If, indeed, it could ever be
102:009,23[G  ]| restored to our little boy ~~"
102:009,24[F  ]| "Why, to be sure,"
102:009,24['  ]| said her husband, very gravely,
102:009,25[F  ]| "that would make a great difference.  The time may
102:009,26[F  ]| come when Harry will regret that so large a sum was
102:009,27[F  ]| parted with.  If he should have a numerous family, for
102:009,28[F  ]| instance, it would be a very convenient addition."
102:009,29[G  ]| "To be sure it would."
102:009,30[F  ]| "Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties if
102:009,31[F  ]| the sum were diminished one half. ~~ Five hundred pounds
102:009,32[F  ]| would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes!"
102:009,33[G  ]| "Oh! beyond any*thing great!  What brother on
102:009,34[G  ]| earth would do half so much for his sisters, even if \really\
102:009,35[G  ]| his sisters!  And as it is ~~ only half blood! ~~ But you
102:009,36[G  ]| have such a generous spirit!"
102:009,37[F  ]| "I would not wish to do any*thing mean,"
102:009,37['  ]| he replied.
102:009,38[F  ]| "One had rather, on such occasions, do too much than too
102:010,01[F  ]|  little.  No*one, at least, can think I have not done enough
102:010,02[F  ]| for them:  even themselves, they can hardly expect more."
102:010,03[G  ]| "There is no knowing what \they\ may expect,"
102:010,03['  ]| said
102:010,04['  ]| the lady,
102:010,04[G  ]| "but we are not to think of their expectations:
102:010,05[G  ]| the question is, what you can afford to do."
102:010,06[F  ]| "Certainly ~~ and I think I may afford to give them
102:010,07[F  ]| five hundred pounds a-piece.  As it is, without any addition
102:010,08[F  ]| of mine, they will each have above three thousand
102:010,09[F  ]| pounds on their mother's death ~~ a very comfortable
102:010,10[F  ]| fortune for any young woman."
102:010,11[G  ]| "To be sure it is:  and, indeed, it strikes me that they
102:010,12[G  ]| can want no addition at all.  They will have ten thousand
102:010,13[G  ]| pounds divided amongst them.  If they marry, they will
102:010,14[G  ]| be sure of doing well, and if they do not, they may all
102:010,15[G  ]| live very comfortably together on the interest of ten
102:010,16[G  ]| thousand pounds."
102:010,17[F  ]| "That is very true, and, therefore, I do not know
102:010,18[F  ]| whether, upon the whole, it would not be more advisable
102:010,19[F  ]| to do something for their mother while she lives rather
102:010,20[F  ]| than for them ~~ something of the annuity kind I mean. ~~
102:010,21[F  ]| My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself.
102:010,22[F  ]| A hundred a year would make them all perfectly
102:010,23[F  ]| comfortable."
102:010,24['  ]| His wife hesitated a little, however, in giving her
102:010,25['  ]| consent to this plan.
102:010,26[G  ]| "To be sure,"
102:010,26['  ]| said she,
102:010,26[G  ]| "it is better than parting with
102:010,27[G  ]| fifteen hundred pounds at once.  But then if Mrs%*Dashwood
102:010,28[G  ]| should live fifteen years, we shall be completely
102:010,29[G  ]| taken in."
102:010,30[F  ]| "Fifteen years! my dear Fanny; her life cannot be
102:010,31[F  ]| worth half that purchase."
102:010,32[G  ]| "Certainly not; but if you observe, people always
102:010,33[G  ]| live for*ever when there is any annuity to be paid them;
102:010,34[G  ]| and she is very stout and healthy, and hardly forty.
102:010,35[G  ]| An annuity is a very serious business; it comes over and
102:010,36[G  ]| over every year, and there is no getting rid of it.  You are
102:010,37[G  ]| not aware of what you are doing.  I have known a great
102:010,38[G  ]| deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was
102:011,01[G  ]| clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated
102:011,02[G  ]| servants by my father's will, and it is amazing how
102:011,03[G  ]| disagreeable she found it.  Twice every year these
102:011,04[G  ]| annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble
102:011,05[G  ]| of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to
102:011,06[G  ]| have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such
102:011,07[G  ]| thing.  My mother was quite sick of it.  Her income was
102:011,08[G  ]| not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it;
102:011,09[G  ]| and it was the more unkind in my father, because,
102:011,10[G  ]| otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my
102:011,11[G  ]| mother's disposal, without any restriction whatever.  It
102:011,12[G  ]| has given me such an abhorrence of annuities, that I am
102:011,13[G  ]| sure I would not pin myself down to the payment of one
102:011,14[G  ]| for all the world."
102:011,15[F  ]| "It is certainly an unpleasant thing,"
102:011,15['  ]| replied Mr%*Dashwood,
102:011,16[F  ]| "to have those kind of yearly drains on one's
102:011,17[F  ]| income.  One's fortune, as your mother justly says, is
102:011,18[F  ]| \not\ one's own.  To be tied down to the regular payment
102:011,19[F  ]| of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no means desirable:
102:011,20[F  ]| it takes away one's independence."
102:011,21[G  ]| "Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks
102:011,22[G  ]| for it.  They think themselves secure, you do no more
102:011,23[G  ]| than what is expected, and it raises no gratitude at all.
102:011,24[G  ]| If I were you, whatever I did should be done at my own
102:011,25[G  ]| discretion entirely.  I would not bind myself to allow
102:011,26[G  ]| them any*thing yearly.  It may be very inconvenient
102:011,27[G  ]| some years to spare a hundred, or even fifty pounds from
102:011,28[G  ]| our own expences."
102:011,29[F  ]| "I believe you are right, my love; it will be better
102:011,30[F  ]| that there should be no annuity in the case; whatever
102:011,31[F  ]| I may give them occasionally will be of far greater assistance
102:011,32[F  ]| than a yearly allowance, because they would only
102:011,33[F  ]| enlarge their style of living if they felt sure of a larger
102:011,34[F  ]| income, and would not be sixpence the richer for it at
102:011,35[F  ]| the end of the year.  It will certainly be much the best
102:011,36[F  ]| way.  A present of fifty pounds, now and then, will
102:011,37[F  ]| prevent their ever being distressed for money, and will,
102:011,38[F  ]| I think be amply discharging my promise to my father."
102:012,01[G  ]| "To be sure it will.  Indeed, to say the truth, I am
102:012,02[G  ]| convinced within myself that your father had no idea
102:012,03[G  ]| of your giving them any money at all.  The assistance
102:012,04[G  ]| he thought of, I dare say, was only such as might be
102:012,05[G  ]| reasonably expected of you; for instance, such as looking
102:012,06[G  ]| out for a comfortable small house for them, helping them
102:012,07[G  ]| to move their things, and sending them presents of fish
102:012,08[G  ]| and game, and so forth, whenever they are in season.
102:012,09[G  ]| I'll lay my life that he meant nothing farther; indeed, it
102:012,10[G  ]| would be very strange and unreasonable if he did.  Do
102:012,11[G  ]| but consider, my dear Mr%*Dashwood, how excessively
102:012,12[G  ]| comfortable your mother-in-law and her daughters may
102:012,13[G  ]| live on the interest of seven thousand pounds, besides
102:012,14[G  ]| the thousand pounds belonging to each of the girls,
102:012,15[G  ]| which brings them in fifty pounds a-year a-piece, and,
102:012,16[G  ]| of course, they will pay their mother for their board out
102:012,17[G  ]| of it.  Altogether, they will have five hundred a-year
102:012,18[G  ]| amongst them, and what on earth can four women want
102:012,19[G  ]| for more than that? ~~ They will live so cheap!  Their
102:012,20[G  ]| housekeeping will be nothing at all.  They will have no
102:012,21[G  ]| carriage, no horses, and hardly any servants; they will
102:012,22[G  ]| keep no company, and can have no expences of any kind!
102:012,23[G  ]| Only conceive how comfortable they will be!  Five
102:012,24[G  ]| hundred a-year!  I am sure I cannot imagine how they
102:012,25[G  ]| will spend half of it; and as to your giving them more,
102:012,26[G  ]| it is quite absurd to think of it. They will be much more
102:012,27[G  ]| able to give \you\ something."
102:012,28[F  ]| "Upon my word,"
102:012,28['  ]| said Mr%*Dashwood,
102:012,28[F  ]| "I believe you
102:012,29[F  ]| are perfectly right.  My father certainly could mean
102:012,30[F  ]| nothing more by his request to me than what you say.
102:012,31[F  ]| I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfil my
102:012,32[F  ]| engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to
102:012,33[F  ]| them as you have described.  When my mother removes
102:012,34[F  ]| into another house my services shall be readily given to
102:012,35[F  ]| accommodate her as far as I can.  Some little present of
102:012,36[F  ]| furniture too may be acceptable then."
102:012,37[G  ]| "Certainly,"
102:012,37['  ]| returned Mrs%*John*Dashwood.
102:012,37[G  ]| "But,
102:012,38[G  ]| however, \one\ thing must be considered.  When your
102:013,01[G  ]| father and mother moved to Norland, though the furniture
102:013,02[G  ]| of Stanhill was sold, all the china, plate, and linen was
102:013,03[G  ]| saved, and is now left to your mother.  Her house will
102:013,04[G  ]| therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon as she
102:013,05[G  ]| takes it."
102:013,06[F  ]| "That is a material consideration undoubtedly.  A
102:013,07[F  ]| valuable legacy indeed!  And yet some of the plate
102:013,08[F  ]| would have been a very pleasant addition to our own
102:013,09[F  ]| stock here."
102:013,10[G  ]| "Yes; and the set of breakfast china is twice as
102:013,11[G  ]| handsome as what belongs to this house.  A great deal
102:013,12[G  ]| too handsome, in my opinion, for any place \they\ can ever
102:013,13[G  ]| afford to live in.  But, however, so it is.  Your father
102:013,14[G  ]| thought only of \them\.  And I must say this:  that you
102:013,15[G  ]| owe no particular gratitude to him, nor attention to his
102:013,16[G  ]| wishes, for we very well know that if he could, he would
102:013,17[G  ]| have left almost every*thing in the world to \them\."
102:013,18['  ]| This argument was irresistible.  It gave to his intentions
102:013,19['  ]| whatever of decision was wanting before; and he finally
102:013,20['  ]| resolved, that it would be absolutely unnecessary, if
102:013,21['  ]| not highly indecorous, to do more for the widow and
102:013,22['  ]| children of his father, than such kind of neighbourly acts
102:013,23['  ]| as his own wife pointed out.
103:014,01['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood remained at Norland several months;
103:014,02['  ]| not from any disinclination to move when the sight of
103:014,03['  ]| every well known spot ceased to raise the violent emotion
103:014,04['  ]| which it produced for a while; for when her spirits
103:014,05['  ]| began to revive, and her mind became capable of some
103:014,06['  ]| other exertion than that of heightening its affliction by
103:014,07['  ]| melancholy remembrances, she was impatient to be gone,
103:014,08['  ]| and indefatigable in her inquiries for a suitable dwelling
103:014,09['  ]| in the neighbourhood of Norland; for to remove far
103:014,10['  ]| from that beloved spot was impossible.  But she could
103:014,11['  ]| hear of no situation that at once answered her notions
103:014,12['  ]| of comfort and ease, and suited the prudence of her
103:014,13['  ]| eldest daughter, whose steadier judgment rejected several
103:014,14['  ]| houses as too large for their income, which her mother
103:014,15['  ]| would have approved.
103:014,16['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood had been informed by her husband of
103:014,17['  ]| the solemn promise on the part of his son in their favour,
103:014,18['  ]| which gave comfort to his last earthly reflections.  She
103:014,19['  ]| doubted the sincerity of this assurance no more than he
103:014,20['  ]| had doubted it himself, and she thought of it for her
103:014,21['  ]| daughters' sake with satisfaction, though as for herself
103:014,22['  ]| she was persuaded that a much smaller provision than
103:014,23['  ]| 7000*l% would support her in affluence.  For their brother's
103:014,24['  ]| sake too, for the sake of his own heart she rejoiced; and
103:014,25['  ]| she reproached herself for being unjust to his merit before,
103:014,26['  ]| in believing him incapable of generosity.  His attentive
103:014,27['  ]| behaviour to herself and his sisters convinced her that
103:014,28['  ]| their welfare was dear to him, and, for a long time, she
103:014,29['  ]| firmly relied on the liberality of his intentions.
103:014,30['  ]| The contempt which she had, very early in their
103:014,31['  ]| acquaintance, felt for her daughter-in-law, was very
103:014,32['  ]| much increased by the farther knowledge of her character,
103:014,33['  ]| which half a year's residence in her family afforded; and
103:015,01['  ]| perhaps in spite of every consideration of politeness or
103:015,02['  ]| maternal affection on the side of the former, the two ladies
103:015,03['  ]| might have found it impossible to have lived together
103:015,04['  ]| so long, had not a particular circumstance occurred to
103:015,05['  ]| give still greater eligibility, according to the opinions of
103:015,06['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood, to her daughters' continuance at Norland.
103:015,07['  ]| This circumstance was a growing attachment between
103:015,08['  ]| her eldest girl and the brother of Mrs%*John*Dashwood,
103:015,09['  ]| a gentlemanlike and pleasing young man, who was introduced
103:015,10['  ]| to their acquaintance soon after his sister's establishment
103:015,11['  ]| at Norland, and who had since spent the greatest
103:015,12['  ]| part of his time there.
103:015,13['  ]| Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy
103:015,14['  ]| from motives of interest, for Edward*Ferrars was the
103:015,15['  ]| eldest son of a man who had died very rich; and some
103:015,16['  ]| might have repressed it from motives of prudence, for,
103:015,17['  ]| except a trifling sum, the whole of his fortune depended
103:015,18['  ]| on the will of his mother.  But Mrs%*Dashwood was alike
103:015,19['  ]| uninfluenced by either consideration.  It was enough for
103:015,20['  ]| her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her
103:015,21['  ]| daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality.  It
103:015,22['  ]| was contrary to every doctrine of her's that difference of
103:015,23['  ]| fortune should keep any couple asunder who were
103:015,24['  ]| attracted by resemblance of disposition; and that
103:015,25['  ]| Elinor's merit should not be acknowledged by every*one
103:015,26['  ]| who knew her, was to her comprehension impossible.
103:015,27['  ]| Edward*Ferrars was not recommended to their good
103:015,28['  ]| opinion by any peculiar graces of person or address.  He
103:015,29['  ]| was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy to
103:015,30['  ]| make them pleasing.  He was too diffident to do justice to
103:015,31['  ]| himself; but when his natural shyness was overcome,
103:015,32['  ]| his behaviour gave every indication of an open affectionate
103:015,33['  ]| heart.  His understanding was good, and his education
103:015,34['  ]| had given it solid improvement.  But he was neither fitted
103:015,35['  ]| by abilities nor disposition to answer the wishes of his
103:015,36['  ]| mother and sister, who longed to see him distinguished ~~
103:015,37['  ]| as ~~ they hardly knew what.  They wanted him to make
103:015,38['  ]| a fine figure in the world in some manner or other.  His
103:016,01['  ]| mother wished to interest him in political concerns, to
103:016,02['  ]| get him into parliament, or to see him connected with
103:016,03['  ]| some of the great men of the day.  Mrs%*John*Dashwood
103:016,04['  ]| wished it likewise; but in the mean*while, till one of
103:016,05['  ]| these superior blessings could be attained, it would have
103:016,06['  ]| quieted her ambition to see him driving a barouche.  But
103:016,07['  ]| Edward had no turn for great men or barouches.  All
103:016,08['  ]| his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of
103:016,09['  ]| private life.  Fortunately he had a younger brother who
103:016,10['  ]| was more promising.
103:016,11['  ]| Edward had been staying several weeks in the house
103:016,12['  ]| before he engaged much of Mrs%*Dashwood's attention;
103:016,13['  ]| for she was, at that time, in such affliction as rendered
103:016,14['  ]| her careless of surrounding objects.  She saw only that
103:016,15['  ]| he was quiet and unobtrusive, and she liked him for it.
103:016,16['  ]| He did not disturb the wretchedness of her mind by
103:016,17['  ]| ill-timed conversation.  She was first called to observe
103:016,18['  ]| and approve him farther, by a reflection which Elinor
103:016,19['  ]| chanced one day to make on the difference between him
103:016,20['  ]| and his sister.  It was a contrast which recommended
103:016,21['  ]| him most forcibly to her mother.
103:016,22[D  ]| "It is enough,"
103:016,22['  ]| said she;
103:016,22[D  ]| "to say that he is unlike
103:016,23[D  ]| Fanny is enough.  It implies every*thing amiable.  I love
103:016,24[D  ]| him already."
103:016,25[A  ]| "I think you will like him,"
103:016,25['  ]| said Elinor,
103:016,25[A  ]| "when you
103:016,26[A  ]| know more of him."
103:016,27[D  ]| "Like him!"
103:016,27['  ]| replied her mother with a smile.
103:016,27[D  ]| "I
103:016,28[D  ]| can feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love."
103:016,29[A  ]| "You may esteem him."
103:016,30[D  ]| "I have never yet known what it was to separate
103:016,31[D  ]| esteem and love."
103:016,32['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted
103:016,33['  ]| with him.  Her manners were attaching and soon
103:016,34['  ]| banished his reserve.  She speedily comprehended all
103:016,35['  ]| his merits; the persuasion of his regard for Elinor
103:016,36['  ]| perhaps assisted her penetration; but she really felt
103:016,37['  ]| assured of his worth:  and even that quietness of manner
103:016,38['  ]| which militated against all her established ideas of what
103:017,01['  ]| a young man's address ought to be, was no longer
103:017,02['  ]| uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and
103:017,03['  ]| his temper affectionate.
103:017,04['  ]| No sooner did she perceive any symptom of love in
103:017,05['  ]| his behaviour to Elinor, than she considered their
103:017,06['  ]| serious attachment as certain, and looked forward to
103:017,07['  ]| their marriage as rapidly approaching.
103:017,08[D  ]| "In a few months, my dear Marianne,"
103:017,08['  ]| said she,
103:017,09[D  ]| "Elinor will in all probability be settled for life.  We
103:017,10[D  ]| shall miss her; but \she\ will be happy."
103:017,11[C  ]| "Oh! mama, how shall we do without her?"
103:017,12[D  ]| "My love, it will be scarcely a separation.  We shall
103:017,13[D  ]| live within a few miles of each other, and shall meet
103:017,14[D  ]| every day of our lives.  You will gain a brother, a real,
103:017,15[D  ]| affectionate brother.  I have the highest opinion in the
103:017,16[D  ]| world of Edward's heart.  But you look grave, Marianne;
103:017,17[D  ]| do you disapprove your sister's choice?"
103:017,18[C  ]| "Perhaps,"
103:017,18['  ]| said Marianne,
103:017,18[C  ]| "I may consider it with
103:017,19[C  ]| some surprise.  Edward is very amiable, and I love him
103:017,20[C  ]| tenderly.  But yet ~~ he is not the kind of young man ~~
103:017,21[C  ]| there is a something wanting ~~ his figure is not striking;
103:017,22[C  ]| it has none of that grace which I should expect in the
103:017,23[C  ]| man who could seriously attach my sister.  His eyes
103:017,24[C  ]| want all that spirit, that fire, which at once announce
103:017,25[C  ]| virtue and intelligence.  And besides all this, I am afraid,
103:017,26[C  ]| mama, he has no real taste.  Music seems scarcely to
103:017,27[C  ]| attract him, and though he admires Elinor's drawings
103:017,28[C  ]| very much, it is not the admiration of a person who can
103:017,29[C  ]| understand their worth.  It is evident, in spite of his
103:017,30[C  ]| frequent attention to her while she draws, that in fact
103:017,31[C  ]| he knows nothing of the matter.  He admires as a lover,
103:017,32[C  ]| not as a connoisseur.  To satisfy me, those characters
103:017,33[C  ]| must be united.  I could not be happy with a man whose
103:017,34[C  ]| taste did not in every point coincide with my own.  He
103:017,35[C  ]| must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the
103:017,36[C  ]| same music must charm us both.  Oh! mama, how
103:017,37[C  ]| spiritless, how tame was Edward's manner in reading
103:017,38[C  ]| to us last night!  I felt for my sister most severely.
103:018,01[C  ]| Yet she bore it with so much composure, she seemed
103:018,02[C  ]| scarcely to notice it.  I could hardly keep my seat.
103:018,03[C  ]| To hear those beautiful lines which have frequently
103:018,04[C  ]| almost driven me wild, pronounced with such impenetrable
103:018,05[C  ]| calmness, such dreadful indifference!" ~~
103:018,06[D  ]| "He would certainly have done more justice to
103:018,07[D  ]| simple and elegant prose.  I thought so at the time;
103:018,08[D  ]| but you \would\ give him Cowper."
103:018,09[C  ]| "Nay, mama, if he is not to be animated by Cowper!
103:018,10[C  ]| ~~ but we must allow for difference of taste.  Elinor
103:018,11[C  ]| has not my feelings, and therefore she may overlook it,
103:018,12[C  ]| and be happy with him.  But it would have broke \my\
103:018,13[C  ]| heart had I loved him, to hear him read with so little
103:018,14[C  ]| sensibility.  Mama, the more I know of the world, the
103:018,15[C  ]| more am I convinced that I shall never see a man whom
103:018,16[C  ]| I can really love.  I require so much!  He must have
103:018,17[C  ]| all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners must
103:018,18[C  ]| ornament his goodness with every possible charm."
103:018,19[D  ]| "Remember, my love, that you are not seventeen.
103:018,20[D  ]| It is yet too early in life to despair of such an happiness.
103:018,21[D  ]| Why should you be less fortunate than your mother?
103:018,22[D  ]| In one circumstance only, my Marianne, may your
103:018,23[D  ]| destiny be different from her's!"
104:019,01[C  ]| "What a pity it is, Elinor",
104:019,01['  ]| said Marianne,
104:019,01[C  ]| "that
104:019,02[C  ]| Edward should have no taste for drawing."
104:019,03[A  ]| "No taste for drawing,"
104:019,03['  ]| replied Elinor;
104:019,03[A  ]| "why
104:019,04[A  ]| should you think so?  He does not draw himself, indeed,
104:019,05[A  ]| but he has great pleasure in seeing the performance of
104:019,06[A  ]| other people, and I assure you he is by no means deficient
104:019,07[A  ]| in natural taste, though he has not had opportunities
104:019,08[A  ]| of improving it.  Had he ever been in the way of learning,
104:019,09[A  ]| I think he would have drawn very well.  He distrusts
104:019,10[A  ]| his own judgment in such matters so much, that he
104:019,11[A  ]| is always unwilling to give his opinion on any picture;
104:019,12[A  ]| but he has an innate propriety and simplicity of taste,
104:019,13[A  ]| which in general direct him perfectly right."
104:019,14['  ]| Marianne was afraid of offending, and said no more
104:019,15['  ]| on the subject; but the kind of approbation which
104:019,16['  ]| Elinor described as excited in him by the drawings of
104:019,17['  ]| other people, was very far from that rapturous delight,
104:019,18['  ]| which, in her opinion, could alone be called taste.  Yet,
104:019,19['  ]| though smiling within herself at the mistake, she
104:019,20['  ]| honoured her sister for that blind partiality to Edward
104:019,21['  ]| which produced it.
104:019,22[A  ]| "I hope, Marianne,"
104:019,22['  ]| continued Elinor,
104:019,22[A  ]| "you do not
104:019,23[A  ]| consider him as deficient in general taste.  Indeed,
104:019,24[A  ]| I think I may say that you cannot, for your behaviour
104:019,25[A  ]| to him is perfectly cordial, and if \that\ were your opinion,
104:019,26[A  ]| I am sure you could never be civil to him."
104:019,27['  ]| Marianne hardly knew what to say.  She would not
104:019,28['  ]| wound the feelings of her sister on any account, and yet
104:019,29['  ]| to say what she did not believe was impossible.  At
104:019,30['  ]| length she replied:
104:019,31[C  ]| "Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is
104:019,32[C  ]| not in every*thing equal to your sense of his merits.  I
104:019,33[C  ]| have not had so many opportunities of estimating the
104:020,01[C  ]| minuter propensities of his mind, his inclinations and
104:020,02[C  ]| tastes as you have; but I have the highest opinion in
104:020,03[C  ]| the world of his goodness and sense.  I think him every*thing
104:020,04[C  ]| that is worthy and amiable."
104:020,05[A  ]| "I am sure,"
104:020,05['  ]| replied Elinor with a smile,
104:020,05[A  ]| "that his
104:020,06[A  ]| dearest friends could not be dissatisfied with such
104:020,07[A  ]| commendation as that.  I do not perceive how you
104:020,08[A  ]| could express yourself more warmly."
104:020,09['  ]| Marianne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily
104:020,10['  ]| pleased.
104:020,11[A  ]| "Of his sense and his goodness,"
104:020,11['  ]| continued Elinor,
104:020,12[A  ]| "no*one can, I think, be in doubt, who has seen him
104:020,13[A  ]| often enough to engage him in unreserved conversation.
104:020,14[A  ]| The excellence of his understanding and his principles
104:020,15[A  ]| can be concealed only by that shyness which too often
104:020,16[A  ]| keeps him silent.  You know enough of him to do justice
104:020,17[A  ]| to his solid worth.  But of his minuter propensities as
104:020,18[A  ]| you call them, you have from peculiar circumstances
104:020,19[A  ]| been kept more ignorant than myself.  He and I have
104:020,20[A  ]| been at times thrown a good deal together, while you
104:020,21[A  ]| have been wholly engrossed on the most affectionate
104:020,22[A  ]| principle by my mother.  I have seen a great deal of
104:020,23[A  ]| him, have studied his sentiments and heard his opinion
104:020,24[A  ]| on subjects of literature and taste; and, upon the whole,
104:020,25[A  ]| I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-informed,
104:020,26[A  ]| his enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination
104:020,27[A  ]| lively, his observation just and correct, and his taste
104:020,28[A  ]| delicate and pure.  His abilities in every respect improve
104:020,29[A  ]| as much upon acquaintance as his manners and person.
104:020,30[A  ]| At first sight, his address is certainly not striking; and
104:020,31[A  ]| his person can hardly be called handsome, till the expression
104:020,32[A  ]| of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the
104:020,33[A  ]| general sweetness of his countenance, is perceived.  At
104:020,34[A  ]| present, I know him so well, that I think him really
104:020,35[A  ]| handsome; or, at least, almost so.  What say you,
104:020,36[A  ]| Marianne?"
104:020,37[C  ]| "I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor, if
104:020,38[C  ]| I do not now.  When you tell me to love him as a brother,
104:021,01[C  ]| I shall no more see imperfection in his face, than I now
104:021,02[C  ]| do in his heart."
104:021,03['  ]| Elinor started at this declaration, and was sorry for
104:021,04['  ]| the warmth she had been betrayed into, in speaking
104:021,05['  ]| of him.  She felt that Edward stood very high in her
104:021,06['  ]| opinion.  She believed the regard to be mutual; but
104:021,07['  ]| she required greater certainty of it to make Marianne's
104:021,08['  ]| conviction of their attachment agreeable to her.  She
104:021,09['  ]| knew that what Marianne and her mother conjectured
104:021,10['  ]| one moment, they believed the next ~~ that with them,
104:021,11['  ]| to wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect.  She
104:021,12['  ]| tried to explain the real state of the case to her sister.
104:021,13[A  ]| "I do not attempt to deny,"
104:021,13['  ]| said she,
104:021,13[A  ]| "that I think
104:021,14[A  ]| very highly of him ~~ that I greatly esteem, that I like
104:021,15[A  ]| him."
104:021,16['  ]| Marianne here burst forth with indignation ~~
104:021,17[C  ]| "Esteem him!  Like him!  Cold-hearted Elinor!  Oh!
104:021,18[C  ]| worse than cold-hearted!  Ashamed of being otherwise.  Use
104:021,19[C  ]| those words again and I will leave the room this moment."
104:021,20['  ]| Elinor could not help laughing.
104:021,20[A  ]| "Excuse me,"
104:021,20['  ]| said
104:021,21['  ]| she,
104:021,21[A  ]| "and be assured that I meant no offence to you,
104:021,22[A  ]| by speaking, in so quiet a way, of my own feelings.
104:021,23[A  ]| Believe them to be stronger than I have declared;
104:021,24[A  ]| believe them, in short, to be such as his merit, and the
104:021,25[A  ]| suspicion ~~ the hope of his affection for me may warrant,
104:021,26[A  ]| without imprudence or folly.  But farther than this
104:021,27[A  ]| you must \not\ believe.  I am by no means assured of
104:021,28[A  ]| his regard for me.  There are moments when the extent
104:021,29[A  ]| of it seems doubtful; and till his sentiments are fully
104:021,30[A  ]| known, you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any
104:021,31[A  ]| encouragement of my own partiality, by believing or
104:021,32[A  ]| calling it more than it is.  In my heart I feel little ~~
104:021,33[A  ]| scarcely any doubt of his preference.  But there are
104:021,34[A  ]| other points to be considered besides his inclination.
104:021,35[A  ]| He is very far from being independent.  What his mother
104:021,36[A  ]| really is we cannot know; but, from Fanny's occasional
104:021,37[A  ]| mention of her conduct and opinions, we have never
104:021,38[A  ]| been disposed to think her amiable; and I am very much
104:022,01[A  ]| mistaken if Edward is not himself aware that there
104:022,02[A  ]| would be many difficulties in his way, if he were to wish
104:022,03[A  ]| to marry a woman who had not either a great fortune
104:022,04[A  ]| or high rank."
104:022,05['  ]| Marianne was astonished to find how much the
104:022,06['  ]| imagination of her mother and herself had outstripped
104:022,07['  ]| the truth.
104:022,08[C  ]| "And you really are not engaged to him!"
104:022,08['  ]| said she.
104:022,09[C  ]| "Yet it certainly soon will happen.  But two advantages
104:022,10[C  ]| will proceed from this delay.  \I\ shall not lose you so
104:022,11[C  ]| soon, and Edward will have greater opportunity of
104:022,12[C  ]| improving that natural taste for your favourite pursuit
104:022,13[C  ]| which must be so indispensably necessary to your
104:022,14[C  ]| future felicity.  Oh! if he should be so far stimulated
104:022,15[C  ]| by your genius as to learn to draw himself, how delightful
104:022,16[C  ]| it would be!"
104:022,17['  ]| Elinor had given her real opinion to her sister.  She
104:022,18['  ]| could not consider her partiality for Edward in so
104:022,19['  ]| prosperous a state as Marianne had believed it.
104:022,19@a   | There
104:022,20@a   | was, at times, a want of spirits about him which, if it
104:022,21@a   | did not denote indifference, spoke a something almost
104:022,22@a   | as unpromising.  A doubt of her regard, supposing him
104:022,23@a   | to feel it, need not give him more than inquietude.  It
104:022,24@a   | would not be likely to produce that dejection of mind
104:022,25@a   | which frequently attended him.  A more reasonable
104:022,26@a   | cause might be found in the dependent situation which
104:022,27@a   | forbad the indulgence of his affection.
104:022,27['  ]| She knew that
104:022,28['  ]| his mother neither behaved to him so as to make his
104:022,29['  ]| home comfortable at present, nor to give him any assurance
104:022,30['  ]| that he might form a home for himself, without
104:022,31['  ]| strictly attending to her views for his aggrandizement.
104:022,32['  ]| With such a knowledge as this, it was impossible for
104:022,33['  ]| Elinor to feel easy on the subject.  She was far from
104:022,34['  ]| depending on that result of his preference of her, which
104:022,35['  ]| her mother and sister still considered as certain.  Nay,
104:022,36['  ]| the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed
104:022,37['  ]| the nature of his regard; and sometimes, for a few painful
104:022,38['  ]| minutes, she believed it to be no more than friendship.
104:023,01['  ]| But, whatever might really be its limits, it was enough,
104:023,02['  ]| when perceived by his sister, to make her uneasy; and
104:023,03['  ]| at the same time, (which was still more common,) to
104:023,04['  ]| make her uncivil.  She took the first opportunity of
104:023,05['  ]| affronting her mother-in-law on the occasion, talking to
104:023,06['  ]| her so expressively of her brother's great expectations,
104:023,07['  ]| of Mrs%*Ferrars's resolution that both her sons should
104:023,08['  ]| marry well, and of the danger attending any young
104:023,09['  ]| woman who attempted to \draw\ \him\ \in\; that Mrs%*Dashwood
104:023,10['  ]| could neither pretend to be unconscious,
104:023,11['  ]| nor endeavour to be calm.  She gave her an answer
104:023,12['  ]| which marked her contempt, and instantly left the room,
104:023,13['  ]| resolving that, whatever might be the inconvenience or
104:023,14['  ]| expense of so sudden a removal, her beloved Elinor
104:023,15['  ]| should not be exposed another week to such insinuations.
104:023,16['  ]| In this state of her spirits, a letter was delivered to
104:023,17['  ]| her from the post, which contained a proposal particularly
104:023,18['  ]| well timed.  It was the offer of a small house,
104:023,19['  ]| on very easy terms, belonging to a relation of her own,
104:023,20['  ]| a gentleman of consequence and property in Devonshire.
104:023,21['  ]| The letter was from this gentleman himself, and written
104:023,22['  ]| in the true spirit of friendly accommodation.
104:023,22@l   | He
104:023,23@l   | understood that she was in need of a dwelling, and though
104:023,24@l   | the house he now offered her was merely a cottage, he
104:023,25@l   | assured her that every*thing should be done to it which
104:023,26@l   | she might think necessary, if the situation pleased her.
104:023,27['  ]| He earnestly pressed her, after giving the particulars of
104:023,28['  ]| the house and garden, to come with her daughters to
104:023,29['  ]| Barton*Park, the place of his own residence, from whence
104:023,30['  ]| she might judge, herself, whether Barton*Cottage, for
104:023,31['  ]| the houses were in the same parish, could, by any alteration,
104:023,32['  ]| be made comfortable to her.  He seemed really
104:023,33['  ]| anxious to accommodate them, and the whole of his
104:023,34['  ]| letter was written in so friendly a style as could not fail
104:023,35['  ]| of giving pleasure to his cousin; more especially at
104:023,36['  ]| a moment when she was suffering under the cold and
104:023,37['  ]| unfeeling behaviour of her nearer connections.  She
104:023,38['  ]| needed no time for deliberation or inquiry.  Her resolution
104:024,01['  ]| was formed as she read.  The situation of Barton,
104:024,02['  ]| in a county so far distant from Sussex as Devonshire,
104:024,03['  ]| which, but a few hours before, would have been a sufficient
104:024,04['  ]| objection to outweigh every possible advantage
104:024,05['  ]| belonging to the place, was now its first recommendation.
104:024,06@d   | To quit the neighbourhood of Norland was no longer an
104:024,07@d   | evil; it was an object of desire; it was a blessing, in
104:024,08@d   | comparison of the misery of continuing her daughter-in-law's
104:024,09@d   | guest:  and to remove for*ever from that
104:024,10@d   | beloved place would be less painful than to inhabit
104:024,11@d   | or visit it while such a woman was its mistress.
104:024,11['  ]| She
104:024,12['  ]| instantly wrote Sir*John*Middleton her acknowledgment
104:024,13['  ]| of his kindness, and her acceptance of his proposal;
104:024,14['  ]| and then hastened to shew both letters to her daughters,
104:024,15['  ]| that she might be secure of their approbation before her
104:024,16['  ]| answer were sent.
104:024,17['  ]| Elinor had always thought it would be more prudent
104:024,18['  ]| for them to settle at some distance from Norland than
104:024,19['  ]| immediately amongst their present acquaintance.  On
104:024,20['  ]| \that\ head, therefore, it was not for her to oppose her
104:024,21['  ]| mother's intention of removing into Devonshire.  The
104:024,22['  ]| house, too, as described by Sir*John, was on so simple
104:024,23['  ]| a scale, and the rent so uncommonly moderate, as to
104:024,24['  ]| leave her no right of objection on either point; and,
104:024,25['  ]| therefore, though it was not a plan which brought any
104:024,26['  ]| charm to her fancy, though it was a removal from the
104:024,27['  ]| vicinity of Norland beyond her wishes, she made no
104:024,28['  ]| attempt to dissuade her mother from sending her letter
104:024,29['  ]| of acquiescence.
105:025,01['  ]| No sooner was her answer dispatched, than Mrs%*Dashwood
105:025,02['  ]| indulged herself in the pleasure of announcing to
105:025,03['  ]| her son-in-law and his wife that
105:025,03@d   | she was provided with
105:025,04@d   | an house, and should incommode them no longer than
105:025,05@d   | till every*thing were ready for her inhabiting it.
105:025,05['  ]| They
105:025,06['  ]| heard her with surprise.  Mrs%*John*Dashwood said
105:025,07['  ]| nothing; but her husband civilly
105:025,07@g   | hoped that she would
105:025,08@g   | not be settled far from Norland.
105:025,08['  ]| She had great satisfaction
105:025,09['  ]| in replying that she was going into Devonshire. ~~
105:025,10['  ]| Edward turned hastily towards her, on hearing this,
105:025,11['  ]| and, in a voice of surprise and concern, which required
105:025,12['  ]| no explanation to her, repeated,
105:025,12[B  ]| "Devonshire!  Are
105:025,13[B  ]| you, indeed, going there?  So far from hence!  And to
105:025,14[B  ]| what part of it?"
105:025,14['  ]| She explained the situation.  It was
105:025,15['  ]| within four miles northward of Exeter.
105:025,16[D  ]| "It is but a cottage,"
105:025,16['  ]| she continued,
105:025,16[D  ]| "but I hope
105:025,17[D  ]| to see many of my friends in it.  A room or two can
105:025,18[D  ]| easily be added; and if my friends find no difficulty
105:025,19[D  ]| in travelling so far to see me, I am sure I will find none
105:025,20[D  ]| in accommodating them."
105:025,21['  ]| She concluded with a very kind invitation to Mr% and
105:025,22['  ]| Mrs%*John*Dashwood to visit her at Barton; and to
105:025,23['  ]| Edward she gave one with still greater affection.  Though
105:025,24['  ]| her late conversation with her daughter-in-law had
105:025,25['  ]| made her resolve on remaining at Norland no longer than
105:025,26['  ]| was unavoidable, it had not produced the smallest effect
105:025,27['  ]| on her in that point to which it principally tended.
105:025,28['  ]| To separate Edward and Elinor was as far from being
105:025,29['  ]| her object as ever; and she wished to shew Mrs%*John*Dashwood
105:025,30['  ]| by this pointed invitation to her brother, how
105:025,31['  ]| totally she disregarded her disapprobation of the match.
105:025,32['  ]| Mr%*John*Dashwood told his mother again and again
105:025,33@g   | how exceedingly sorry he was that she had taken an
105:025,34@g   | house at such a distance from Norland as to prevent
105:026,01@g   | his being of any service to her in removing her furniture.
105:026,02['  ]| He really felt conscientiously vexed on the occasion;
105:026,03['  ]| for the very exertion to which he had limited the
105:026,04['  ]| performance of his promise to his father was by this
105:026,05['  ]| arrangement rendered impracticable. ~~ The furniture
105:026,06['  ]| was all sent round by water.  It chiefly consisted of
105:026,07['  ]| household linen, plate, china, and books, with an
105:026,08['  ]| handsome pianoforte of Marianne's.  Mrs%*John*Dashwood
105:026,09['  ]| saw the packages depart with a sigh:  she could
105:026,10['  ]| not help feeling it hard that as Mrs%*Dashwood's income
105:026,11['  ]| would be so trifling in comparison with their own, she
105:026,12['  ]| should have any handsome article of furniture.
105:026,13['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood took the house for a twelvemonth;
105:026,14['  ]| it was ready furnished, and she might have immediate
105:026,15['  ]| possession.  No difficulty arose on either side in the
105:026,16['  ]| agreement; and she waited only for the disposal of
105:026,17['  ]| her effects at Norland, and to determine her future
105:026,18['  ]| household, before she set off for the west; and this,
105:026,19['  ]| as she was exceedingly rapid in the performance of
105:026,20['  ]| every*thing that interested her, was soon done. ~~ The
105:026,21['  ]| horses which were left her by her husband, had been
105:026,22['  ]| sold soon after his death, and an opportunity now offering
105:026,23['  ]| of disposing of her carriage, she agreed to sell that likewise
105:026,24['  ]| at the earnest advice of her eldest daughter.  For
105:026,25['  ]| the comfort of her children, had she consulted only her
105:026,26['  ]| own wishes, she would have kept it; but the discretion
105:026,27['  ]| of Elinor prevailed.  \Her\ wisdom too limited the number
105:026,28['  ]| of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with
105:026,29['  ]| whom they were speedily provided from amongst those
105:026,30['  ]| who had formed their establishment at Norland.
105:026,31['  ]| The man and one of the maids were sent off immediately
105:026,32['  ]| into Devonshire, to prepare the house for their
105:026,33['  ]| mistress's arrival; for as Lady*Middleton was entirely
105:026,34['  ]| unknown to Mrs%*Dashwood, she preferred going directly
105:026,35['  ]| to the cottage to being a visitor at Barton*Park; and
105:026,36['  ]| she relied so undoubtingly on Sir*John's description
105:026,37['  ]| of the house, as to feel no curiosity to examine it herself
105:026,38['  ]| till she entered it as her own.  Her eagerness to be gone
105:027,01['  ]| from Norland was preserved from diminution by the
105:027,02['  ]| evident satisfaction of her daughter-in-law in the prospect
105:027,03['  ]| of her removal; a satisfaction which was but feebly
105:027,04['  ]| attempted to be concealed under a cold invitation to
105:027,05['  ]| her to defer her departure.  Now was the time when her
105:027,06['  ]| son-in-law's promise to his father might with particular
105:027,07['  ]| propriety be fulfilled.  Since he had neglected to do it
105:027,08['  ]| on first coming to the estate, their quitting his house
105:027,09['  ]| might be looked on as the most suitable period for its
105:027,10['  ]| accomplishment.  But Mrs%*Dashwood began shortly
105:027,11['  ]| to give over every hope of the kind, and to be convinced,
105:027,12['  ]| from the general drift of his discourse, that his assistance
105:027,13['  ]| extended no farther than their maintenance for six
105:027,14['  ]| months at Norland.  He so frequently talked of the
105:027,15['  ]| increasing expenses of housekeeping, and of the perpetual
105:027,16['  ]| demands upon his purse, which a man of any consequence
105:027,17['  ]| in the world was beyond calculation exposed to, that he
105:027,18['  ]| seemed rather to stand in need of more money himself
105:027,19['  ]| than to have any design of giving money away.
105:027,20['  ]| In a very few weeks from the day which brought
105:027,21['  ]| Sir*John*Middleton's first letter to Norland, every*thing
105:027,22['  ]| was so far settled in their future abode as to enable
105:027,23['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood and her daughters to begin their journey.
105:027,24['  ]| Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieus
105:027,25['  ]| to a place so much beloved.
105:027,25[C  ]| "Dear, dear Norland!"
105:027,26['  ]| said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house,
105:027,27['  ]| on the last evening of their being there;
105:027,27[C  ]| "when shall
105:027,28[C  ]| I cease to regret you! ~~ when learn to feel a home
105:027,29[C  ]| elsewhere! ~~ Oh! happy house, could you know what
105:027,30[C  ]| I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence
105:027,31[C  ]| perhaps I may view you no more! ~~ And you, ye well-known
105:027,32[C  ]| trees! ~~ but you will continue the same. ~~ No
105:027,33[C  ]| leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch
105:027,34[C  ]| become motionless although we can observe you no
105:027,35[C  ]| longer! ~~ No; you will continue the same; unconscious
105:027,36[C  ]| of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible
105:027,37[C  ]| of any change in those who walk under your shade! ~~
105:027,38[C  ]| But who will remain to enjoy you?"
106:028,01['  ]| The first part of their journey was performed in too
106:028,02['  ]| melancholy a disposition to be otherwise than tedious
106:028,03['  ]| and unpleasant.  But as they drew towards the end of
106:028,04['  ]| it, their interest in the appearance of a country which
106:028,05['  ]| they were to inhabit overcame their dejection, and
106:028,06['  ]| a view of Barton*Valley as they entered it gave them
106:028,07['  ]| cheerfulness.  It was a pleasant fertile spot, well wooded,
106:028,08['  ]| and rich in pasture.  After winding along it for more
106:028,09['  ]| than a mile, they reached their own house.  A small
106:028,10['  ]| green court was the whole of its demesne in front; and
106:028,11['  ]| a neat wicket gate admitted them into it.
106:028,12['  ]| As a house, Barton*Cottage, though small, was comfortable
106:028,13['  ]| and compact; but as a cottage it was defective,
106:028,14['  ]| for the building was regular, the roof was tiled, the
106:028,15['  ]| window shutters were not painted green, nor were the
106:028,16['  ]| walls covered with honeysuckles.  A narrow passage
106:028,17['  ]| led directly through the house into the garden behind.
106:028,18['  ]| On each side of the entrance was a sitting*room, about
106:028,19['  ]| sixteen feet square; and beyond them were the offices
106:028,20['  ]| and the stairs.  Four bed-rooms and two garrets formed
106:028,21['  ]| the rest of the house.  It had not been built many
106:028,22['  ]| years and was in good repair.  In comparison of Norland,
106:028,23['  ]| it was poor and small indeed! ~~ but the tears which
106:028,24['  ]| recollection called forth as they entered the house were
106:028,25['  ]| soon dried away.  They were cheered by the joy of the
106:028,26['  ]| servants on their arrival, and each for the sake of the
106:028,27['  ]| others resolved to appear happy.  It was very early
106:028,28['  ]| in September; the season was fine, and from first
106:028,29['  ]| seeing the place under the advantage of good weather,
106:028,30['  ]| they received an impression in its favour which was of
106:028,31['  ]| material service in recommending it to their lasting
106:028,32['  ]| approbation.
106:028,33['  ]| The situation of the house was good.  High hills rose
106:029,01['  ]| immediately behind, and at no great distance on each
106:029,02['  ]| side; some of which were open downs, the others
106:029,03['  ]| cultivated and woody.  The village of Barton was chiefly
106:029,04['  ]| on one of these hills, and formed a pleasant view from
106:029,05['  ]| the cottage windows.  The prospect in front was more
106:029,06['  ]| extensive; it commanded the whole of the valley, and
106:029,07['  ]| reached into the country beyond.  The hills which
106:029,08['  ]| surrounded the cottage terminated the valley in that
106:029,09['  ]| direction; under another name, and in another course,
106:029,10['  ]| it branched out again between two of the steepest of
106:029,11['  ]| them.
106:029,12['  ]| With the size and furniture of the house Mrs%*Dashwood
106:029,13['  ]| was upon the whole well satisfied; for though her
106:029,14['  ]| former style of life rendered many additions to the latter
106:029,15['  ]| indispensable, yet to add and improve was a delight to
106:029,16['  ]| her; and she had at this time ready money enough to
106:029,17['  ]| supply all that was wanted of greater elegance to the
106:029,18['  ]| apartments.
106:029,18[D  ]| "As for the house itself, to be sure,"
106:029,19['  ]| said she,
106:029,19[D  ]| "it is too small for our family, but we will
106:029,20[D  ]| make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the present,
106:029,21[D  ]| as it is too late in the year for improvements.  Perhaps
106:029,22[D  ]| in the spring, if I have plenty of money, as I dare say
106:029,23[D  ]| I shall, we may think about building.  These parlours
106:029,24[D  ]| are both too small for such parties of our friends as I
106:029,25[D  ]| hope to see often collected here; and I have some
106:029,26[D  ]| thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them with
106:029,27[D  ]| perhaps a part of the other, and so leave the remainder
106:029,28[D  ]| of that other for an entrance; this, with a new drawing-room
106:029,29[D  ]| which may be easily added, and a bed-chamber
106:029,30[D  ]| and garret above, will make it a very snug little cottage.
106:029,31[D  ]| I could wish the stairs were handsome.  But one must
106:029,32[D  ]| not expect every*thing; though I suppose it would be
106:029,33[D  ]| no difficult matter to widen them.  I shall see how
106:029,34[D  ]| much I am before-hand with the world in the spring,
106:029,35[D  ]| and we will plan our improvements accordingly."
106:029,36['  ]| In the mean*time, till all these alterations could be
106:029,37['  ]| made from the savings of an income of five hundred
106:029,38['  ]| a-year by a woman who never saved in her life, they
106:030,01['  ]| were wise enough to be contented with the house as it
106:030,02['  ]| was; and each of them was busy in arranging their
106:030,03['  ]| particular concerns, and endeavouring, by placing
106:030,04['  ]| around them their books and other possessions, to form
106:030,05['  ]| themselves a home.  Marianne's pianoforte was unpacked
106:030,06['  ]| and properly disposed of; and Elinor's drawings were
106:030,07['  ]| affixed to the walls of their sitting*room.
106:030,08['  ]| In such employments as these they were interrupted
106:030,09['  ]| soon after breakfast the next day by the entrance of
106:030,10['  ]| their landlord, who called to welcome them to Barton,
106:030,11['  ]| and to offer them every accommodation from his own
106:030,12['  ]| house and garden in which their's might at present be
106:030,13['  ]| deficient.  Sir*John*Middleton was a good*looking man
106:030,14['  ]| about forty.  He had formerly visited at Stanhill, but
106:030,15['  ]| it was too long ago for his young cousins to remember
106:030,16['  ]| him.  His countenance was thoroughly good-humoured;
106:030,17['  ]| and his manners were as friendly as the style of his
106:030,18['  ]| letter.  Their arrival seemed to afford him real satisfaction,
106:030,19['  ]| and their comfort to be an object of real solicitude
106:030,20['  ]| to him.  He said much of his earnest desire of their
106:030,21['  ]| living in the most sociable terms with his family, and
106:030,22['  ]| pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton*Park every
106:030,23['  ]| day till they were better settled at home, that, though
106:030,24['  ]| his entreaties were carried to a point of perseverance
106:030,25['  ]| beyond civility, they could not give offence.  His kindness
106:030,26['  ]| was not confined to words; for within an hour after
106:030,27['  ]| he left them, a large basket full of garden stuff and fruit
106:030,28['  ]| arrived from the park, which was followed before the end
106:030,29['  ]| of the day by a present of game.  He insisted moreover
106:030,30['  ]| on conveying all their letters to and from the post for
106:030,31['  ]| them, and would not be denied the satisfaction of sending
106:030,32['  ]| them his newspaper every day.
106:030,33['  ]| Lady*Middleton had sent a very civil message by him,
106:030,34['  ]| denoting her intention of waiting on Mrs%*Dashwood
106:030,35['  ]| as soon as she could be assured that her visit would be
106:030,36['  ]| no inconvenience; and as this message was answered
106:030,37['  ]| by an invitation equally polite, her ladyship was introduced
106:030,38['  ]| to them the next day.
106:031,01['  ]| They were of course very anxious to see a person on
106:031,02['  ]| whom so much of their comfort at Barton must depend;
106:031,03['  ]| and the elegance of her appearance was favourable to
106:031,04['  ]| their wishes.  Lady*Middleton was not more than six
106:031,05['  ]| or seven*and*twenty; her face was handsome, her
106:031,06['  ]| figure tall and striking, and her address graceful.  Her
106:031,07['  ]| manners had all the elegance which her husband's
106:031,08['  ]| wanted.  But they would have been improved by some
106:031,09['  ]| share of his frankness and warmth; and her visit was
106:031,10['  ]| long enough to detract something from their first
106:031,11['  ]| admiration, by shewing that though perfectly well-bred,
106:031,12['  ]| she was reserved, cold, and had nothing to say for herself
106:031,13['  ]| beyond the most common-place inquiry or remark.
106:031,14['  ]| Conversation however was not wanted, for Sir*John
106:031,15['  ]| was very chatty, and Lady*Middleton had taken the
106:031,16['  ]| wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child,
106:031,17['  ]| a fine little boy about six years old, by which means
106:031,18['  ]| there was one subject always to be recurred to by the
106:031,19['  ]| ladies in case of extremity, for they had to inquire his
106:031,20['  ]| name and age, admire his beauty, and ask him questions
106:031,21['  ]| which his mother answered for him, while he hung
106:031,22['  ]| about her and held down his head, to the great surprise
106:031,23['  ]| of her ladyship, who
106:031,23@j   | wondered at his being so shy before
106:031,24@j   | company as he could make noise enough at home.
106:031,24['  ]| On
106:031,25['  ]| every formal visit a child ought to be of the party, by
106:031,26['  ]| way of provision for discourse.  In the present case it
106:031,27['  ]| took up ten minutes to determine whether the boy were
106:031,28['  ]| most like his father or mother, and in what particular he
106:031,29['  ]| resembled either, for of course every*body differed, and
106:031,30['  ]| every*body was astonished at the opinion of the others.
106:031,31['  ]| An opportunity was soon to be given to the Dashwoods
106:031,32['  ]| of debating on the rest of the children, as Sir*John
106:031,33['  ]| would not leave the house without securing their promise
106:031,34['  ]| of dining at the park the next day.
107:032,01['  ]| Barton*Park was about half a mile from the cottage.
107:032,02['  ]| The ladies had passed near it in their way along the
107:032,03['  ]| valley, but it was screened from their view at home by
107:032,04['  ]| the projection of an hill.  The house was large and
107:032,05['  ]| handsome; and the Middletons lived in a style of equal
107:032,06['  ]| hospitality and elegance.  The former was for Sir*John's
107:032,07['  ]| gratification, the latter for that of his lady.  They were
107:032,08['  ]| scarcely ever without some friends staying with them
107:032,09['  ]| in the house, and they kept more company of every
107:032,10['  ]| kind than any other family in the neighbourhood.  It
107:032,11['  ]| was necessary to the happiness of both; for however
107:032,12['  ]| dissimilar in temper and outward behaviour, they
107:032,13['  ]| strongly resembled each other in that total want of
107:032,14['  ]| talent and taste which confined their employments,
107:032,15['  ]| unconnected with such as society produced, within
107:032,16['  ]| a very narrow compass.  Sir*John was a sportsman,
107:032,17['  ]| Lady*Middleton a mother.  He hunted and shot, and
107:032,18['  ]| she humoured her children; and these were their only
107:032,19['  ]| resources.  Lady*Middleton had the advantage of being
107:032,20['  ]| able to spoil her children all the year round, while
107:032,21['  ]| Sir*John's independent employments were in existence
107:032,22['  ]| only half the time.  Continual engagements at home and
107:032,23['  ]| abroad, however, supplied all the deficiencies of nature
107:032,24['  ]| and education; supported the good spirits of Sir*John,
107:032,25['  ]| and gave exercise to the good-breeding of his wife.
107:032,26['  ]| Lady*Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of
107:032,27['  ]| her table, and of all her domestic arrangements; and
107:032,28['  ]| from this kind of vanity was her greatest enjoyment in
107:032,29['  ]| any of their parties.  But Sir*John's satisfaction in
107:032,30['  ]| society was much more real; he delighted in collecting
107:032,31['  ]| about him more young people than his house would
107:032,32['  ]| hold, and the noisier they were the better was he pleased.
107:032,33['  ]| He was a blessing to all the juvenile part of the neighbourhood,
107:033,01['  ]| for in summer he was for*ever forming parties
107:033,02['  ]| to eat cold ham and chicken out of doors, and in winter
107:033,03['  ]| his private balls were numerous enough for any young
107:033,04['  ]| lady who was not suffering under the insatiable appetite
107:033,05['  ]| of fifteen.
107:033,06['  ]| The arrival of a new family in the country was always
107:033,07['  ]| a matter of joy to him, and in every point of view he
107:033,08['  ]| was charmed with the inhabitants he had now procured
107:033,09['  ]| for his cottage at Barton.  The Miss*Dashwoods were
107:033,10['  ]| young, pretty, and unaffected.  It was enough to secure
107:033,11['  ]| his good opinion; for
107:033,11@l   | to be unaffected was all that a
107:033,12@l   | pretty girl could want to make her mind as captivating
107:033,13@l   | as her person.
107:033,13['  ]| The friendliness of his disposition made
107:033,14['  ]| him happy in accommodating those, whose situation
107:033,15['  ]| might be considered, in comparison with the past, as
107:033,16['  ]| unfortunate.  In shewing kindness to his cousins
107:033,17['  ]| therefore he had the real satisfaction of a good heart;
107:033,18['  ]| and in settling a family of females only in his cottage,
107:033,19['  ]| he had all the satisfaction of a sportsman; for a sportsman,
107:033,20['  ]| though he esteems only those of his sex who are
107:033,21['  ]| sportsmen likewise, is not often desirous of encouraging
107:033,22['  ]| their taste by admitting them to a residence within
107:033,23['  ]| his own manor.
107:033,24['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood and her daughters were met at the
107:033,25['  ]| door of the house by Sir*John, who welcomed them to
107:033,26['  ]| Barton*Park with unaffected sincerity; and as he
107:033,27['  ]| attended them to the drawing*room repeated to the
107:033,28['  ]| young ladies the concern which the same subject had
107:033,29['  ]| drawn from him the day before, at being unable to
107:033,30['  ]| get any smart young men to meet them.
107:033,30@l   | They would
107:033,31@l   | see,
107:033,31['  ]| he said,
107:033,31@l   | only one gentleman there besides himself;
107:033,32@l   | a particular friend who was staying at the park, but who
107:033,33@l   | was neither very young nor very gay.  He hoped they
107:033,34@l   | would all excuse the smallness of the party, and could
107:033,35@l   | assure them it should never happen so again.  He had
107:033,36@l   | been to several families that morning in hopes of
107:033,37@l   | procuring some addition to their number, but it was
107:033,38@l   | moonlight and every*body was full of engagements.
107:034,01@l   | Luckily Lady*Middleton's mother had arrived at Barton
107:034,02@l   | within the last hour, and as she was a very cheerful agreeable
107:034,03@l   | woman, he hoped the young ladies would not find it
107:034,04@l   | so very dull as they might imagine.
107:034,04['  ]| The young ladies, as
107:034,05['  ]| well as their mother, were perfectly satisfied with having
107:034,06['  ]| two entire strangers of the party, and wished for no more.
107:034,07['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, Lady*Middleton's mother, was a good-humoured,
107:034,08['  ]| merry, fat, elderly woman, who talked a great
107:034,09['  ]| deal, seemed very happy, and rather vulgar.  She was
107:034,10['  ]| full of jokes and laughter, and before dinner was over
107:034,11['  ]| had said many witty things on the subject of lovers and
107:034,12['  ]| husbands; hoped they had not left their hearts behind
107:034,13['  ]| them in Sussex, and pretended to see them blush
107:034,14['  ]| whether they did or not.  Marianne was vexed at it
107:034,15['  ]| for her sister's sake, and turned her eyes towards Elinor
107:034,16['  ]| to see how she bore these attacks, with an earnestness
107:034,17['  ]| which gave Elinor far more pain than could arise from
107:034,18['  ]| such common-place raillery as Mrs%*Jennings's.
107:034,19['  ]| Colonel*Brandon, the friend of Sir*John, seemed no
107:034,20['  ]| more adapted by resemblance of manner to be his
107:034,21['  ]| friend, than Lady*Middleton was to be his wife, or
107:034,22['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings to be Lady*Middleton's mother.  He was
107:034,23['  ]| silent and grave.  His appearance however was not
107:034,24['  ]| unpleasing, in spite of his being in the opinion of Marianne
107:034,25['  ]| and Margaret an absolute old bachelor, for he was on
107:034,26['  ]| the wrong side of five*and*thirty; but though his face
107:034,27['  ]| was not handsome his countenance was sensible, and
107:034,28['  ]| his address was particularly gentlemanlike.
107:034,29['  ]| There was nothing in any of the party which could
107:034,30['  ]| recommend them as companions to the Dashwoods;
107:034,31['  ]| but the cold insipidity of Lady*Middleton was so
107:034,32['  ]| particularly repulsive, that in comparison of it the
107:034,33['  ]| gravity of Colonel*Brandon, and even the boisterous
107:034,34['  ]| mirth of Sir*John and his mother-in-law was interesting.
107:034,35['  ]| Lady*Middleton seemed to be roused to enjoyment only
107:034,36['  ]| by the entrance of her four noisy children after dinner,
107:034,37['  ]| who pulled her about, tore her clothes, and put an end to
107:034,38['  ]| every kind of discourse except what related to themselves.
107:035,01['  ]| In the evening, as Marianne was discovered to be
107:035,02['  ]| musical, she was invited to play.  The instrument was
107:035,03['  ]| unlocked, every*body prepared to be charmed, and
107:035,04['  ]| Marianne, who sang very well, at their request went
107:035,05['  ]| through the chief of the songs which Lady*Middleton
107:035,06['  ]| had brought into the family on her marriage, and which
107:035,07['  ]| perhaps had lain ever since in the same position on the
107:035,08['  ]| pianoforte=, for her ladyship had celebrated that event
107:035,09['  ]| by giving up music, although by her mother's account
107:035,10['  ]| she had played extremely well, and by her own was
107:035,11['  ]| very fond of it.
107:035,12['  ]| Marianne's performance was highly applauded.  Sir*John
107:035,13['  ]| was loud in his admiration at the end of every
107:035,14['  ]| song, and as loud in his conversation with the others
107:035,15['  ]| while every song lasted.  Lady*Middleton frequently
107:035,16['  ]| called him to order, wondered how any*one's attention
107:035,17['  ]| could be diverted from music for a moment, and asked
107:035,18['  ]| Marianne to sing a particular song which Marianne
107:035,19['  ]| had just finished.  Colonel*Brandon alone, of all the
107:035,20['  ]| party, heard her without being in raptures.  He paid
107:035,21['  ]| her only the compliment of attention; and she felt
107:035,22['  ]| a respect for him on the occasion, which the others had
107:035,23['  ]| reasonably forfeited by their shameless want of taste.
107:035,24['  ]| His pleasure in music, though it amounted not to that
107:035,25['  ]| extatic delight which alone could sympathize with her
107:035,26['  ]| own, was estimable when contrasted against the horrible
107:035,27['  ]| insensibility of the others; and she was reasonable
107:035,28['  ]| enough to allow that a man of five*and*thirty might well
107:035,29['  ]| have outlived all acuteness of feeling and every exquisite
107:035,30['  ]| power of enjoyment.  She was perfectly disposed to
107:035,31['  ]| make every allowance for the colonel's advanced state
107:035,32['  ]| of life which humanity required.
108:036,01['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings was a widow, with an ample jointure.
108:036,02['  ]| She had only two daughters, both of whom she had
108:036,03['  ]| lived to see respectably married, and she had now
108:036,04['  ]| therefore nothing to do but marry all the rest of the
108:036,05['  ]| world.  In the promotion of this object she was zealously
108:036,06['  ]| active, as far as her ability reached; and missed no
108:036,07['  ]| opportunity of projecting weddings among all the young
108:036,08['  ]| people of her acquaintance.  She was remarkably quick
108:036,09['  ]| in the discovery of attachments, and had enjoyed the
108:036,10['  ]| advantage of raising the blushes and the vanity of many
108:036,11['  ]| a young lady by insinuations of her power over such
108:036,12['  ]| a young man; and this kind of discernment enabled
108:036,13['  ]| her soon after her arrival at Barton decisively to pronounce
108:036,14['  ]| that Colonel*Brandon was very much in love
108:036,15['  ]| with Marianne*Dashwood.  She rather suspected it to
108:036,16['  ]| be so, on the very first evening of their being together,
108:036,17['  ]| from his listening so attentively while she sang to them;
108:036,18['  ]| and when the visit was returned by the Middletons'
108:036,19['  ]| dining at the cottage, the fact was ascertained by his
108:036,20['  ]| listening to her again.
108:036,20@k   | It must be so.
108:036,20['  ]| She was perfectly
108:036,21['  ]| convinced of it.
108:036,21@k   | It would be an excellent match, for
108:036,22@k   | \he\ was rich and \she\ was handsome.
108:036,22['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings had
108:036,23['  ]| been anxious to see Colonel*Brandon well married, ever
108:036,24['  ]| since her connection with Sir*John first brought him
108:036,25['  ]| to her knowledge; and she was always anxious to get
108:036,26['  ]| a good husband for every pretty girl.
108:036,27['  ]| The immediate advantage to herself was by no means
108:036,28['  ]| inconsiderable, for it supplied her with endless jokes
108:036,29['  ]| against them both.  At the park she laughed at the
108:036,30['  ]| colonel, and in the cottage at Marianne.  To the former
108:036,31['  ]| her raillery was probably, as far as it regarded only
108:036,32['  ]| himself, perfectly indifferent; but to the latter it was
108:036,33['  ]| at first incomprehensible; and when its object was
108:037,01['  ]| understood, she hardly knew whether most to laugh
108:037,02['  ]| at its absurdity, or censure its impertinence, for she
108:037,03['  ]| considered it as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel's
108:037,04['  ]| advanced years, and on his forlorn condition as an old
108:037,05['  ]| bachelor.
108:037,06['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood, who could not think a man five years
108:037,07['  ]| younger than herself, so exceedingly ancient as he
108:037,08['  ]| appeared to the youthful fancy of her daughter, ventured
108:037,09['  ]| to clear Mrs%*Jennings from the probability of wishing
108:037,10['  ]| to throw ridicule on his age.
108:037,11[C  ]| "But at least, mama, you cannot deny the absurdity
108:037,12[C  ]| of the accusation, though you may not think it intentionally
108:037,13[C  ]| ill-natured.  Colonel*Brandon is certainly
108:037,14[C  ]| younger than Mrs%*Jennings, but he is old enough to
108:037,15[C  ]| be \my\ father; and if he were ever animated enough to
108:037,16[C  ]| be in love, must have long outlived every sensation of
108:037,17[C  ]| the kind.  It is too ridiculous!  When is a man to be
108:037,18[C  ]| safe from such wit, if age and infirmity will not protect
108:037,19[C  ]| him?"
108:037,20[A  ]| "Infirmity!"
108:037,20['  ]| said Elinor,
108:037,20[A  ]| "do you call Colonel*Brandon
108:037,21[A  ]| infirm?  I can easily suppose that his age may
108:037,22[A  ]| appear much greater to you than to my mother; but
108:037,23[A  ]| you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the
108:037,24[A  ]| use of his limbs!"
108:037,25[C  ]| "Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism?
108:037,26[C  ]| and is not that the commonest infirmity of declining
108:037,27[C  ]| life?"
108:037,28[D  ]| "My dearest child,"
108:037,28['  ]| said her mother laughing,
108:037,28[D  ]| "at
108:037,29[D  ]| this rate you must be in continual terror of \my\ decay;
108:037,30[D  ]| and it must seem to you a miracle that my life has
108:037,31[D  ]| been extended to the advanced age of forty."
108:037,32[C  ]| "Mama, you are not doing me justice.  I know very
108:037,33[C  ]| well that Colonel*Brandon is not old enough to make
108:037,34[C  ]| his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course
108:037,35[C  ]| of nature.  He may live twenty years longer.  But thirty-five
108:037,36[C  ]| has nothing to do with matrimony."
108:037,37[A  ]| "Perhaps,"
108:037,37['  ]| said Elinor,
108:037,37[A  ]| "thirty-five and seventeen
108:037,38[A  ]| had better not have any*thing to do with matrimony
108:038,01[A  ]| together.  But if there should by any chance happen
108:038,02[A  ]| to be a woman who is single at seven*and*twenty, I
108:038,03[A  ]| should not think Colonel*Brandon's being thirty-five
108:038,04[A  ]| any objection to his marrying \her\."
108:038,05[C  ]| "A woman of seven*and*twenty,"
108:038,05['  ]| said Marianne,
108:038,06['  ]| after pausing a moment,
108:038,06[C  ]| "can never hope to feel or
108:038,07[C  ]| inspire affection again, and if her home be uncomfortable,
108:038,08[C  ]| or her fortune small, I can suppose that she might bring
108:038,09[C  ]| herself to submit to the offices of a nurse, for the sake
108:038,10[C  ]| of the provision and security of a wife.  In his marrying
108:038,11[C  ]| such a woman therefore there would be nothing unsuitable.
108:038,12[C  ]| It would be a compact of convenience, and the
108:038,13[C  ]| world would be satisfied.  In my eyes it would be no
108:038,14[C  ]| marriage at all, but that would be nothing.  To me it
108:038,15[C  ]| would seem only a commercial exchange, in which each
108:038,16[C  ]| wished to be benefited at the expense of the other."
108:038,17[A  ]| "It would be impossible, I know,"
108:038,17['  ]| replied Elinor,
108:038,18[A  ]| "to convince you that a woman of seven*and*twenty
108:038,19[A  ]| could feel for a man of thirty-five any*thing near enough
108:038,20[A  ]| to love, to make him a desirable companion to her.  But
108:038,21[A  ]| I must object to your dooming Colonel*Brandon and
108:038,22[A  ]| his wife to the constant confinement of a sick*chamber,
108:038,23[A  ]| merely because he chanced to complain yesterday (a
108:038,24[A  ]| very cold damp day) of a slight rheumatic feel in one
108:038,25[A  ]| of his shoulders."
108:038,26[C  ]| "But he talked of flannel waistcoats,"
108:038,26['  ]| said Marianne;
108:038,27[C  ]| "and with me a flannel waistcoat is invariably connected
108:038,28[C  ]| with the aches, cramps, rheumatisms, and every
108:038,29[C  ]| species of ailment that can afflict the old and the feeble."
108:038,30[A  ]| "Had he been only in a violent fever, you would not
108:038,31[A  ]| have despised him half so much.  Confess, Marianne,
108:038,32[A  ]| is not there something interesting to you in the flushed
108:038,33[A  ]| cheek, hollow eye, and quick pulse of a fever?"
108:038,34['  ]| Soon after this, upon Elinor's leaving the room,
108:038,35[C  ]| "Mama,"
108:038,35['  ]| said Marianne,
108:038,35[C  ]| "I have an alarm on the
108:038,36[C  ]| subject of illness, which I cannot conceal from you.
108:038,37[C  ]| I am sure Edward*Ferrars is not well.  We have now
108:038,38[C  ]| been here almost a fortnight, and yet he does not come.
108:039,01[C  ]| Nothing but real indisposition could occasion this
108:039,02[C  ]| extraordinary delay.  What else can detain him at
108:039,03[C  ]| Norland?"
108:039,04[D  ]| "Had you any idea of his coming so soon?"
108:039,04['  ]| said
108:039,05['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood.
108:039,05[D  ]| "\I\ had none.  On the contrary, if
108:039,06[D  ]| I have felt any anxiety at all on the subject, it has been
108:039,07[D  ]| in recollecting that he sometimes shewed a want of
108:039,08[D  ]| pleasure and readiness in accepting my invitation, when
108:039,09[D  ]| I talked of his coming to Barton.  Does Elinor expect
108:039,10[D  ]| him already?"
108:039,11[C  ]| "I have never mentioned it to her, but of course
108:039,12[C  ]| she must."
108:039,13[D  ]| "I rather think you are mistaken, for when I was
108:039,14[D  ]| talking to her yesterday of getting a new grate for the
108:039,15[D  ]| spare bedchamber, she observed that there was no
108:039,16[D  ]| immediate hurry for it, as it was not likely that the
108:039,17[D  ]| room would be wanted for some time."
108:039,18[C  ]| "How strange this is!  what can be the meaning of
108:039,19[C  ]| it!  But the whole of their behaviour to each other has
108:039,20[C  ]| been unaccountable!  How cold, how composed were
108:039,21[C  ]| their last adieus!  How languid their conversation the
108:039,22[C  ]| last evening of their being together!  In Edward's
108:039,23[C  ]| farewell there was no distinction between Elinor and
108:039,24[C  ]| me:  it was the good wishes of an affectionate brother
108:039,25[C  ]| to both.  Twice did I leave them purposely together
108:039,26[C  ]| in the course of the morning, and each time did he
108:039,27[C  ]| most unaccountably follow me out of the room.  And
108:039,28[C  ]| Elinor, in quitting Norland and Edward, cried not as
108:039,29[C  ]| I did.  Even now her self-command is invariable.  When
108:039,30[C  ]| is she dejected or melancholy?  When does she try to
108:039,31[C  ]| avoid society, or appear restless and dissatisfied in it?"
109:040,01['  ]| The Dashwoods were now settled at Barton with
109:040,02['  ]| tolerable comfort to themselves.  The house and the
109:040,03['  ]| garden, with all the objects surrounding them, were now
109:040,04['  ]| become familiar, and the ordinary pursuits which had
109:040,05['  ]| given to Norland half its charms, were engaged in again
109:040,06['  ]| with far greater enjoyments than Norland had been able
109:040,07['  ]| to afford, since the loss of their father.  Sir*John*Middleton,
109:040,08['  ]| who called on them every day for the first
109:040,09['  ]| fortnight, and who was not in the habit of seeing much
109:040,10['  ]| occupation at home, could not conceal his amazement
109:040,11['  ]| on finding them always employed.
109:040,12['  ]| Their visitors, except those from Barton*Park, were
109:040,13['  ]| not many; for, in spite of Sir*John's urgent entreaties
109:040,14['  ]| that they would mix more in the neighbourhood, and
109:040,15['  ]| repeated assurances of his carriage being always at their
109:040,16['  ]| service, the independence of Mrs%*Dashwood's spirit
109:040,17['  ]| overcame the wish of society for her children; and she
109:040,18['  ]| was resolute in declining to visit any family beyond the
109:040,19['  ]| distance of a walk.  There were but few who could be
109:040,20['  ]| so classed; and it was not all of them that were attainable.
109:040,21['  ]| About a mile and a half from the cottage, along
109:040,22['  ]| the narrow winding valley of Allenham, which issued
109:040,23['  ]| from that of Barton, as formerly described, the girls
109:040,24['  ]| had, in one of their earliest walks, discovered an ancient
109:040,25['  ]| respectable looking mansion, which, by reminding them
109:040,26['  ]| a little of Norland, interested their imagination and made
109:040,27['  ]| them wish to be better acquainted with it.  But they
109:040,28['  ]| learnt, on inquiry, that its possessor, an elderly lady of
109:040,29['  ]| very good character, was unfortunately too infirm to
109:040,30['  ]| mix with the world, and never stirred from home.
109:040,31['  ]| The whole country about them abounded in beautiful
109:040,32['  ]| walks.  The high downs which invited them from
109:040,33['  ]| almost every window of the cottage to seek the exquisite
109:041,01['  ]| enjoyment of air on their summits, were an happy
109:041,02['  ]| alternative when the dirt of the valleys beneath shut
109:041,03['  ]| up their superior beauties; and towards one of these
109:041,04['  ]| hills did Marianne and Margaret one memorable morning
109:041,05['  ]| direct their steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of
109:041,06['  ]| a showery sky, and unable longer to bear the confinement
109:041,07['  ]| which the settled rain of the two preceding days
109:041,08['  ]| had occasioned.  The weather was not tempting enough
109:041,09['  ]| to draw the two others from their pencil and their book,
109:041,10['  ]| in spite of Marianne's declaration that the day would
109:041,11['  ]| be lastingly fair, and that every threatening cloud
109:041,12['  ]| would be drawn off from their hills; and the two girls
109:041,13['  ]| set off together.
109:041,14['  ]| They gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own
109:041,15['  ]| penetration at every glimpse of blue sky; and when
109:041,16['  ]| they caught in their faces the animating gales of an
109:041,17['  ]| high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears which had
109:041,18['  ]| prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such
109:041,19['  ]| delightful sensations.
109:041,20[C  ]| "Is there a felicity in the world,"
109:041,20['  ]| said Marianne,
109:041,21[C  ]| "superior to this? ~~ Margaret, we will walk here at
109:041,22[C  ]| least two hours."
109:041,23['  ]| Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way against
109:041,24['  ]| the wind, resisting it with laughing delight for about
109:041,25['  ]| twenty minutes longer, when suddenly the clouds
109:041,26['  ]| united over their heads, and a driving rain set full in
109:041,27['  ]| their face. ~~ Chagrined and surprised, they were obliged,
109:041,28['  ]| though unwillingly, to turn back, for no shelter was
109:041,29['  ]| nearer than their own house.  One consolation however
109:041,30['  ]| remained for them, to which the exigence of the moment
109:041,31['  ]| gave more than usual propriety; it was that of running
109:041,32['  ]| with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill
109:041,33['  ]| which led immediately to their garden gate.
109:041,34['  ]| They set off.  Marianne had at first the advantage,
109:041,35['  ]| but a false step brought her suddenly to the ground,
109:041,36['  ]| and Margaret, unable to stop herself to assist her, was
109:041,37['  ]| involuntarily hurried along, and reached the bottom in
109:041,38['  ]| safety.
109:042,01['  ]| A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing
109:042,02['  ]| round him, was passing up the hill and within a few
109:042,03['  ]| yards of Marianne, when her accident happened.  He
109:042,04['  ]| put down his gun and ran to her assistance.  She had
109:042,05['  ]| raised herself from the ground, but her foot had been
109:042,06['  ]| twisted in the fall, and she was scarcely able to stand.
109:042,07['  ]| The gentleman offered his services, and perceiving that
109:042,08['  ]| her modesty declined what her situation rendered
109:042,09['  ]| necessary, took her up in his arms without farther
109:042,10['  ]| delay, and carried her down the hill.  Then passing
109:042,11['  ]| through the garden, the gate of which had been left
109:042,12['  ]| open by Margaret, he bore her directly into the house,
109:042,13['  ]| whither Margaret was just arrived, and quitted not his
109:042,14['  ]| hold till he had seated her in a chair in the parlour.
109:042,15['  ]| Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at their
109:042,16['  ]| entrance, and while the eyes of both were fixed on him
109:042,17['  ]| with an evident wonder and a secret admiration which
109:042,18['  ]| equally sprung from his appearance, he apologized for
109:042,19['  ]| his intrusion by relating its cause, in a manner so frank
109:042,20['  ]| and so graceful, that his person, which was uncommonly
109:042,21['  ]| handsome, received additional charms from his voice
109:042,22['  ]| and expression.  Had he been even old, ugly, and vulgar,
109:042,23['  ]| the gratitude and kindness of Mrs%*Dashwood would
109:042,24['  ]| have been secured by any act of attention to her child;
109:042,25['  ]| but the influence of youth, beauty, and elegance, gave
109:042,26['  ]| an interest to the action which came home to her
109:042,27['  ]| feelings.
109:042,28['  ]| She thanked him again and again; and with a sweetness
109:042,29['  ]| of address which always attended her, invited him
109:042,30['  ]| to be seated.  But this he declined, as he was dirty and
109:042,31['  ]| wet.  Mrs%*Dashwood then begged to know to whom
109:042,32['  ]| she was obliged.
109:042,32@r   | His name,
109:042,32['  ]| he replied,
109:042,32@r   | was Willoughby,
109:042,33@r   | and his present home was at Allenham, from whence
109:042,34@r   | he hoped she would allow him the honour of calling
109:042,35@r   | to-morrow to inquire after Miss*Dashwood.
109:042,35['  ]| The honour
109:042,36['  ]| was readily granted, and he then departed, to make
109:042,37['  ]| himself still more interesting, in the midst of an heavy
109:042,38['  ]| rain.
109:043,01['  ]| His manly beauty and more than common gracefulness
109:043,02['  ]| were instantly the theme of general admiration, and the
109:043,03['  ]| laugh which his gallantry raised against Marianne,
109:043,04['  ]| received particular spirit from his exterior attractions. ~~
109:043,05['  ]| Marianne herself had seen less of his person than the
109:043,06['  ]| rest, for the confusion which crimsoned over her face,
109:043,07['  ]| on his lifting her up, had robbed her of the power of
109:043,08['  ]| regarding him after their entering the house.  But she
109:043,09['  ]| had seen enough of him to join in all the admiration of
109:043,10['  ]| the others, and with an energy which always adorned
109:043,11['  ]| her praise.  His person and air were equal to what her
109:043,12['  ]| fancy had ever drawn for the hero of a favourite story;
109:043,13['  ]| and in his carrying her into the house with so little
109:043,14['  ]| previous formality, there was a rapidity of thought
109:043,15['  ]| which particularly recommended the action to her.
109:043,16['  ]| Every circumstance belonging to him was interesting.
109:043,17['  ]| His name was good, his residence was in their favourite
109:043,18['  ]| village, and she soon found out that of all manly dresses
109:043,19['  ]| a shooting-jacket was the most becoming.  Her imagination
109:043,20['  ]| was busy, her reflections were pleasant, and the
109:043,21['  ]| pain of a sprained ancle was disregarded.
109:043,22['  ]| Sir*John called on them as soon as the next interval
109:043,23['  ]| of fair weather that morning allowed him to get out of
109:043,24['  ]| doors; and Marianne's accident being related to him,
109:043,25['  ]| he was eagerly asked whether he knew any gentleman
109:043,26['  ]| of the name of Willoughby at Allenham.
109:043,27[L  ]| "Willoughby!"
109:043,27['  ]| cried Sir*John;
109:043,27[L  ]| "what, is \he\ in
109:043,28[L  ]| the country?  That is good news however; I will ride
109:043,29[L  ]| over to-morrow, and ask him to dinner on Thursday."
109:043,30[D  ]| "You know him then,"
109:043,30['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood.
109:043,31[L  ]| "Know him! to be sure I do.  Why, he is down here
109:043,32[L  ]| every year."
109:043,33[D  ]| "And what sort of a young man is he?"
109:043,34[L  ]| "As good a kind of fellow as ever lived, I assure you.
109:043,35[L  ]| A very decent shot, and there is not a bolder rider in
109:043,36[L  ]| England."
109:043,37[C  ]| "And is \that\ all you can say for him?"
109:043,37['  ]| cried Marianne,
109:043,38['  ]| indignantly.
109:043,38[C  ]| "But what are his manners on
109:044,01[C  ]| more intimate acquaintance?  What his pursuits, his
109:044,02[C  ]| talents and genius?"
109:044,03['  ]| Sir*John was rather puzzled.
109:044,04[L  ]| "Upon my soul,"
109:044,04['  ]| said he,
109:044,04[L  ]| "I do not know much about
109:044,05[L  ]| him as to all \that\.  But he is a pleasant, good*humoured
109:044,06[L  ]| fellow, and has got the nicest little black bitch of
109:044,07[L  ]| a pointer I ever saw.  Was she out with him to-day?"
109:044,08['  ]| But Marianne could no more satisfy him as to the
109:044,09['  ]| colour of Mr%*Willoughby's pointer, than he could describe
109:044,10['  ]| to her the shades of his mind.
109:044,11[A  ]| "But who is he?"
109:044,11['  ]| said Elinor.
109:044,11[A  ]| "Where does he
109:044,12[A  ]| come from?  Has he a house at Allenham?"
109:044,13['  ]| On this point Sir*John could give more certain
109:044,14['  ]| intelligence; and he told them that
109:044,14@l   | Mr%*Willoughby
109:044,15@l   | had no property of his own in the country; that he
109:044,16@l   | resided there only while he was visiting the old lady at
109:044,17@l   | Allenham*Court, to whom he was related, and whose
109:044,18@l   | possessions he was to inherit;
109:044,18['  ]| adding,
109:044,18[L  ]| "Yes, yes, he
109:044,19[L  ]| is very well worth catching, I can tell you, Miss*Dashwood;
109:044,20[L  ]| he has a pretty little estate of his own in Somersetshire
109:044,21[L  ]| besides; and if I were you, I would not give him
109:044,22[L  ]| up to my younger sister in spite of all this tumbling
109:044,23[L  ]| down hills.  Miss*Marianne must not expect to have all
109:044,24[L  ]| the men to herself.  Brandon will be jealous, if she
109:044,25[L  ]| does not take care."
109:044,26[D  ]| "I do not believe,"
109:044,26['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood, with a good*humoured
109:044,27['  ]| smile,
109:044,27[D  ]| "that Mr%*Willoughby will be incommoded
109:044,28[D  ]| by the attempts of either of \my\ daughters towards
109:044,29[D  ]| what you call \catching\ \him\.  It is not an employment
109:044,30[D  ]| to which they have been brought up.  Men are very
109:044,31[D  ]| safe with us, let them be ever so rich.  I am glad to find,
109:044,32[D  ]| however, from what you say, that he is a respectable
109:044,33[D  ]| young man, and one whose acquaintance will not be
109:044,34[D  ]| ineligible."
109:044,35[L  ]| "He is as good a sort of fellow, I believe, as ever
109:044,36[L  ]| lived,"
109:044,36['  ]| repeated Sir*John.
109:044,36[L  ]| "I remember last Christmas,
109:044,37[L  ]| at a little hop at the park, he danced from eight o'clock
109:044,38[L  ]| till four, without once sitting down."
109:045,01[C  ]| "Did he indeed?"
109:045,01['  ]| cried Marianne, with sparkling
109:045,02['  ]| eyes,
109:045,02[C  ]| "and with elegance, with spirit?"
109:045,03[L  ]| "Yes; and he was up again at eight to ride to covert."
109:045,04[C  ]| "That is what I like; that is what a young man
109:045,05[C  ]| ought to be.  Whatever be his pursuits, his eagerness
109:045,06[C  ]| in them should know no moderation, and leave him no
109:045,07[C  ]| sense of fatigue."
109:045,08[L  ]| "Aye, aye, I see how it will be,"
109:045,08['  ]| said Sir*John,
109:045,09[L  ]| "I see how it will be.  You will be setting your cap at
109:045,10[L  ]| him now, and never think of poor Brandon."
109:045,11[C  ]| "That is an expression, Sir*John,"
109:045,11['  ]| said Marianne,
109:045,12['  ]| warmly,
109:045,12[C  ]| "which I particularly dislike.  I abhor every
109:045,13[C  ]| common-place phrase by which wit is intended; and
109:045,14[C  ]| ""setting one's cap at a man,"" or ""making a conquest,""
109:045,15[C  ]| are the most odious of all.  Their tendency is gross and
109:045,16[C  ]| illiberal; and if their construction could ever be deemed
109:045,17[C  ]| clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity."
109:045,18['  ]| Sir*John did not much understand this reproof; but
109:045,19['  ]| he laughed as heartily as if he did, and then replied,
109:045,20[L  ]| "Aye, you will make conquests enough, I dare say,
109:045,21[L  ]| one way or other.  Poor Brandon! he is quite smitten
109:045,22[L  ]| already, and he is very well worth setting your cap at,
109:045,23[L  ]| I can tell you, in spite of all this tumbling about and
109:045,24[L  ]| spraining of ancles."
110:046,01@e   | Marianne's preserver,
109:046,01['  ]| as Margaret, with more elegance
110:046,02['  ]| than precision, stiled Willoughby, called at the
110:046,03['  ]| cottage early the next morning to make his personal inquiries.
110:046,04['  ]| He was received by Mrs%*Dashwood with more
110:046,05['  ]| than politeness; with a kindness which Sir*John's
110:046,06['  ]| account of him and her own gratitude prompted; and
110:046,07['  ]| every*thing that passed during the visit, tended to assure
110:046,08['  ]| him of the sense, elegance, mutual affection, and
110:046,09['  ]| domestic comfort of the family to whom accident had
110:046,10['  ]| now introduced him.  Of their personal charms he had
110:046,11['  ]| not required a second interview to be convinced.
110:046,12['  ]| Miss*Dashwood had a delicate complexion, regular
110:046,13['  ]| features, and a remarkably pretty figure.  Marianne
110:046,14['  ]| was still handsomer.  Her form, though not so correct
110:046,15['  ]| as her sister's, in having the advantage of height, was
110:046,16['  ]| more striking; and her face was so lovely, that when in
110:046,17['  ]| the common cant of praise she was called a beautiful
110:046,18['  ]| girl, truth was less violently outraged than usually
110:046,19['  ]| happens.  Her skin was very brown, but from its
110:046,20['  ]| transparency, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant;
110:046,21['  ]| her features were all good; her smile was sweet and
110:046,22['  ]| attractive, and in her eyes, which were very dark, there
110:046,23['  ]| was a life, a spirit, an eagerness which could hardly be
110:046,24['  ]| seen without delight.  From Willoughby their expression
110:046,25['  ]| was at first held back, by the embarrassment which the
110:046,26['  ]| remembrance of his assistance created.  But when this
110:046,27['  ]| passed away, when her spirits became collected, when
110:046,28['  ]| she saw that to the perfect good-breeding of the gentleman,
110:046,29['  ]| he united frankness and vivacity, and above all,
110:046,30['  ]| when she heard him declare that of music and dancing
110:046,31['  ]| he was passionately fond, she gave him such a look of
110:046,32['  ]| approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse
110:046,33['  ]| to herself for the rest of his stay.
110:047,01['  ]| It was only necessary to mention any favourite
110:047,02['  ]| amusement to engage her to talk.  She could not be
110:047,03['  ]| silent when such points were introduced, and she had
110:047,04['  ]| neither shyness nor reserve in their discussion.  They
110:047,05['  ]| speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing
110:047,06['  ]| and music was mutual, and that it arose from a general
110:047,07['  ]| conformity of judgment in all that related to either.
110:047,08['  ]| Encouraged by this to a further examination of his
110:047,09['  ]| opinions, she proceeded to question him on the subject
110:047,10['  ]| of books; her favourite authors were brought forward
110:047,11['  ]| and dwelt upon with so rapturous a delight, that any
110:047,12['  ]| young man of five*and*twenty must have been insensible
110:047,13['  ]| indeed, not to become an immediate convert to the
110:047,14['  ]| excellence of such works, however disregarded before.
110:047,15['  ]| Their taste was strikingly alike.  The same books, the
110:047,16['  ]| same passages were idolized by each ~~ or if any difference
110:047,17['  ]| appeared, any objection arose, it lasted no longer than
110:047,18['  ]| till the force of her arguments and the brightness of her
110:047,19['  ]| eyes could be displayed.  He acquiesced in all her
110:047,20['  ]| decisions, caught all her enthusiasm; and long before
110:047,21['  ]| his visit concluded, they conversed with the familiarity
110:047,22['  ]| of a long-established acquaintance.
110:047,23[A  ]| "Well, Marianne,"
110:047,23['  ]| said Elinor, as soon as he had left
110:047,24['  ]| them,
110:047,24[A  ]| "for \one\ morning I think you have done pretty
110:047,25[A  ]| well.  You have already ascertained Mr%*Willoughby's
110:047,26[A  ]| opinion in almost every matter of importance.  You
110:047,27[A  ]| know what he thinks of Cowper and Scott; you are
110:047,28[A  ]| certain of his estimating their beauties as he ought, and
110:047,29[A  ]| you have received every assurance of his admiring Pope
110:047,30[A  ]| no more than is proper.  But how is your acquaintance
110:047,31[A  ]| to be long supported, under such extraordinary dispatch
110:047,32[A  ]| of every subject for discourse?  You will soon have
110:047,33[A  ]| exhausted each favourite topic.  Another meeting will
110:047,34[A  ]| suffice to explain his sentiments on picturesque beauty,
110:047,35[A  ]| and second marriages, and then you can have nothing
110:047,36[A  ]| farther to ask." ~~
110:047,37[C  ]| "Elinor,"
110:047,37['  ]| cried Marianne,
110:047,37[C  ]| "is this fair? is this
110:047,38[C  ]| just? are my ideas so scanty?  But I see what you
110:048,01[C  ]| mean.  I have been too much at my ease, too happy,
110:048,02[C  ]| too frank.  I have erred against every common-place
110:048,03[C  ]| notion of decorum; I have been open and sincere
110:048,04[C  ]| where I ought to have been reserved, spiritless, dull,
110:048,05[C  ]| and deceitful: ~~ had I talked only of the weather and
110:048,06[C  ]| the roads, and had I spoken only once in ten minutes,
110:048,07[C  ]| this reproach would have been spared."
110:048,08[D  ]| "My love,"
110:048,08['  ]| said her mother,
110:048,08[D  ]| "you must not be
110:048,09[D  ]| offended with Elinor ~~ she was only in jest.  I should
110:048,10[D  ]| scold her myself, if she were capable of wishing to check
110:048,11[D  ]| the delight of your conversation with our new friend." ~~
110:048,12['  ]| Marianne was softened in a moment.
110:048,13['  ]| Willoughby, on his side, gave every proof of his pleasure
110:048,14['  ]| in their acquaintance, which an evident wish of
110:048,15['  ]| improving it could offer.  He came to them every day.
110:048,16['  ]| To inquire after Marianne was at first his excuse; but
110:048,17['  ]| the encouragement of his reception, to which every day
110:048,18['  ]| gave greater kindness, made such an excuse unnecessary
110:048,19['  ]| before it had ceased to be possible, by Marianne's perfect
110:048,20['  ]| recovery.  She was confined for some days to the house;
110:048,21['  ]| but never had any confinement been less irksome.
110:048,22['  ]| Willoughby was a young man of good abilities, quick
110:048,23['  ]| imagination, lively spirits, and open, affectionate
110:048,24['  ]| manners.  He was exactly formed to engage Marianne's
110:048,25['  ]| heart, for with all this, he joined not only a captivating
110:048,26['  ]| person, but a natural ardour of mind which was now
110:048,27['  ]| roused and increased by the example of her own, and
110:048,28['  ]| which recommended him to her affection beyond every*thing
110:048,29['  ]| else.
110:048,30['  ]| His society became gradually her most exquisite
110:048,31['  ]| enjoyment.  They read, they talked, they sang together;
110:048,32['  ]| his musical talents were considerable; and he read with
110:048,33['  ]| all the sensibility and spirit which Edward had unfortunately
110:048,34['  ]| wanted.
110:048,35['  ]| In Mrs%*Dashwood's estimation, he was as faultless
110:048,36['  ]| as in Marianne's; and Elinor saw nothing to censure
110:048,37['  ]| in him but a propensity, in which he strongly resembled
110:048,38['  ]| and peculiarly delighted her sister, of saying too much
110:049,01['  ]| what he thought on every occasion, without attention
110:049,02['  ]| to persons or circumstances.  In hastily forming and
110:049,03['  ]| giving his opinion of other people, in sacrificing general
110:049,04['  ]| politeness to the enjoyment of undivided attention
110:049,05['  ]| where his heart was engaged, and in slighting too easily
110:049,06['  ]| the forms of worldly propriety, he displayed a want of
110:049,07['  ]| caution which Elinor could not approve, in spite of
110:049,08['  ]| all that he and Marianne could say in its support.
110:049,09['  ]| Marianne began now to perceive that the desperation
110:049,10['  ]| which had seized her at sixteen and a half, of ever
110:049,11['  ]| seeing a man who could satisfy her ideas of perfection,
110:049,12['  ]| had been rash and unjustifiable.  Willoughby was all
110:049,13['  ]| that her fancy had delineated in that unhappy hour
110:049,14['  ]| and in every brighter period, as capable of attaching
110:049,15['  ]| her; and his behaviour declared his wishes to be in that
110:049,16['  ]| respect as earnest, as his abilities were strong.
110:049,17['  ]| Her mother too, in whose mind not one speculative
110:049,18['  ]| thought of their marriage had been raised, by his
110:049,19['  ]| prospect of riches, was led before the end of a week to
110:049,20['  ]| hope and expect it; and secretly to congratulate herself
110:049,21['  ]| on having gained two such sons-in-law as Edward and
110:049,22['  ]| Willoughby.
110:049,23['  ]| Colonel*Brandon's partiality for Marianne, which had
110:049,24['  ]| so early been discovered by his friends, now first became
110:049,25['  ]| perceptible to Elinor, when it ceased to be noticed by
110:049,26['  ]| them.  Their attention and wit were drawn off to his
110:049,27['  ]| more fortunate rival; and the raillery which the other
110:049,28['  ]| had incurred before any partiality arose, was removed
110:049,29['  ]| when his feelings began really to call for the ridicule
110:049,30['  ]| so justly annexed to sensibility.  Elinor was obliged,
110:049,31['  ]| though unwillingly, to believe that the sentiments
110:049,32['  ]| which Mrs%*Jennings had assigned him for her own
110:049,33['  ]| satisfaction, were now actually excited by her sister;
110:049,34['  ]| and that however a general resemblance of disposition
110:049,35['  ]| between the parties might forward the affection of
110:049,36['  ]| Mr%*Willoughby, an equally striking opposition of
110:049,37['  ]| character was no hindrance to the regard of Colonel*Brandon.
110:049,38['  ]| She saw it with concern;
110:049,38@a   | for what could
110:050,01@a   | a silent man of five*and*thirty hope, when opposed by
110:050,02@a   | a very lively one of five*and*twenty?
110:050,02['  ]| and as she could
110:050,03['  ]| not even wish him successful, she heartily wished him
110:050,04['  ]| indifferent.  She liked him ~~ in spite of his gravity and
110:050,05['  ]| reserve, she beheld in him an object of interest.  His
110:050,06['  ]| manners, though serious, were mild; and his reserve
110:050,07['  ]| appeared rather the result of some oppression of spirits,
110:050,08['  ]| than of any natural gloominess of temper.  Sir*John
110:050,09['  ]| had dropt hints of past injuries and disappointments,
110:050,10['  ]| which justified her belief of his being an unfortunate
110:050,11['  ]| man, and she regarded him with respect and compassion.
110:050,12['  ]| Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more because
110:050,13['  ]| he was slighted by Willoughby and Marianne, who,
110:050,14['  ]| prejudiced against him for being neither lively nor young,
110:050,15['  ]| seemed resolved to undervalue his merits.
110:050,16[R  ]| "Brandon is just the kind of man,"
110:050,16['  ]| said Willoughby
110:050,17['  ]| one day, when they were talking of him together,
110:050,18[R  ]| "whom every*body speaks well of, and nobody cares
110:050,19[R  ]| about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody
110:050,20[R  ]| remembers to talk to."
110:050,21[C  ]| "That is exactly what I think of him,"
110:050,21['  ]| cried Marianne.
110:050,22[A  ]| "Do not boast of it, however,"
110:050,22['  ]| said Elinor,
110:050,22[A  ]| "for it
110:050,23[A  ]| is injustice in both of you.  He is highly esteemed by
110:050,24[A  ]| all the family at the park, and I never see him myself
110:050,25[A  ]| without taking pains to converse with him."
110:050,26[R  ]| "That he is patronized by \you\,"
110:050,26['  ]| replied Willoughby,
110:050,27[R  ]| "is certainly in his favour; but as for the esteem of the
110:050,28[R  ]| others, it is a reproach in itself.  Who would submit to
110:050,29[R  ]| the indignity of being approved by such women as Lady*Middleton
110:050,30[R  ]| and Mrs%*Jennings, that could command the
110:050,31[R  ]| indifference of any*body else?"
110:050,32[A  ]| "But perhaps the abuse of such people as yourself
110:050,33[A  ]| and Marianne, will make amends for the regard of
Lady*Middleton
110:050,34[A  ]| and her mother.  If their praise is censure,
110:050,35[A  ]| your censure may be praise, for they are not more
110:050,36[A  ]| undiscerning, than you are prejudiced and unjust."
110:050,37[R  ]| "In defence of your protege= you can even be saucy."
110:050,38[A  ]| "My protege=, as you call him, is a sensible man;
110:051,01[A  ]| and sense will always have attraction for me.  Yes,
110:051,02[A  ]| Marianne, even in a man between thirty and forty.
110:051,03[A  ]| He has seen a great deal of the world; has been abroad;
110:051,04[A  ]| has read, and has a thinking mind.  I have found him
110:051,05[A  ]| capable of giving me much information on various
110:051,06[A  ]| subjects, and he has always answered my inquiries with
110:051,07[A  ]| the readiness of good-breeding and good*nature."
110:051,08[C  ]| "That is to say,"
110:051,08['  ]| cried Marianne contemptuously,
110:051,09[C  ]| "he has told you that in the East*Indies the climate
110:051,10[C  ]| is hot, and the mosquitoes are troublesome."
110:051,11[A  ]| "He \would\ have told me so, I doubt not, had I made
110:051,12[A  ]| any such inquiries, but they happened to be points on
110:051,13[A  ]| which I had been previously informed."
110:051,14[R  ]| "Perhaps,"
110:051,14['  ]| said Willoughby,
110:051,14[R  ]| "his observations may
110:051,15[R  ]| have extended to the existence of nabobs, gold mohrs,
110:051,16[R  ]| and palanquins."
110:051,17[A  ]| "I may venture to say that \his\ observations have
110:051,18[A  ]| stretched much farther than \your\ candour.  But why
110:051,19[A  ]| should you dislike him?"
110:051,20[R  ]| "I do not dislike him.  I consider him, on the contrary,
110:051,21[R  ]| as a very respectable man, who has every*body's
110:051,22[R  ]| good word and nobody's notice; who has more money
110:051,23[R  ]| than he can spend, more time than he knows how to
110:051,24[R  ]| employ, and two new coats every year."
110:051,25[C  ]| "Add to which,"
110:051,25['  ]| cried Marianne,
110:051,25[C  ]| "that he has neither
110:051,26[C  ]| genius, taste, nor spirit.  That his understanding has
110:051,27[C  ]| no brilliancy, his feelings no ardour, and his voice
110:051,28[C  ]| no expression."
110:051,29[A  ]| "You decide on his imperfections so much in the
110:051,30[A  ]| mass,"
110:051,30['  ]| replied Elinor,
110:051,30[A  ]| "and so much on the strength
110:051,31[A  ]| of your own imagination, that the commendation \I\ am
110:051,32[A  ]| able to give of him is comparatively cold and insipid.
110:051,33[A  ]| I can only pronounce him to be a sensible man, well-bred,
110:051,34[A  ]| well-informed, of gentle address, and I believe possessing
110:051,35[A  ]| an amiable heart."
110:051,36[R  ]| "Miss*Dashwood,"
110:051,36['  ]| cried Willoughby,
110:051,36[R  ]| "you are now
110:051,37[R  ]| using me unkindly.  You are endeavouring to disarm
110:051,38[R  ]| me by reason, and to convince me against my will.
110:052,01[R  ]| But it will not do.  You shall find me as stubborn as
110:052,02[R  ]| you can be artful.  I have three unanswerable reasons
110:052,03[R  ]| for disliking Colonel*Brandon:  he has threatened me
110:052,04[R  ]| with rain when I wanted it to be fine; he has found
110:052,05[R  ]| fault with the hanging of my curricle, and I cannot
110:052,06[R  ]| persuade him to buy my brown mare.  If it will be any
110:052,07[R  ]| satisfaction to you, however, to be told, that I believe
110:052,08[R  ]| his character to be in other respects irreproachable,
110:052,09[R  ]| I am ready to confess it.  And in return for an acknowledgment,
110:052,10[R  ]| which must give me some pain, you cannot
110:052,11[R  ]| deny me the privilege of disliking him as much as ever."
111:053,01['  ]| Little had Mrs%*Dashwood or her daughters imagined,
111:053,02['  ]| when they first came into Devonshire, that so many
111:053,03['  ]| engagements would arise to occupy their time as shortly
111:053,04['  ]| presented themselves, or that they should have such
111:053,05['  ]| frequent invitations and such constant visitors as to
111:053,06['  ]| leave them little leisure for serious employment.  Yet
111:053,07['  ]| such was the case.  When Marianne was recovered, the
111:053,08['  ]| schemes of amusement at home and abroad, which
111:053,09['  ]| Sir*John had been previously forming, were put in
111:053,10['  ]| execution.  The private balls at the park then began;
111:053,11['  ]| and parties on the water were made and accomplished
111:053,12['  ]| as often as a showery October would allow.  In every
111:053,13['  ]| meeting of the kind Willoughby was included; and the
111:053,14['  ]| ease and familiarity which naturally attended these
111:053,15['  ]| parties were exactly calculated to give increasing
111:053,16['  ]| intimacy to his acquaintance with the Dashwoods, to
111:053,17['  ]| afford him opportunity of witnessing the excellencies
111:053,18['  ]| of Marianne, of marking his animated admiration of her,
111:053,19['  ]| and of receiving, in her behaviour to himself, the most
111:053,20['  ]| pointed assurance of her affection.
111:053,21['  ]| Elinor could not be surprised at their attachment.
111:053,22['  ]| She only wished that it were less openly shewn; and
111:053,23['  ]| once or twice did venture to suggest the propriety of
111:053,24['  ]| some self-command to Marianne.  But Marianne
111:053,25['  ]| abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could
111:053,26['  ]| attend unreserve; and to aim at the restraint of sentiments
111:053,27['  ]| which were not in themselves illaudable, appeared
111:053,28['  ]| to her not merely an unnecessary effort, but a disgraceful
111:053,29['  ]| subjection of reason to common-place and mistaken
111:053,30['  ]| notions.  Willoughby thought the same; and their
111:053,31['  ]| behaviour, at all times, was an illustration of their
111:053,32['  ]| opinions.
111:053,33['  ]| When he was present she had no eyes for any*one else.
111:054,01['  ]| Every*thing he did, was right.  Every*thing he said, was
111:054,02['  ]| clever.  If their evenings at the park were concluded
111:054,03['  ]| with cards, he cheated himself and all the rest of the
111:054,04['  ]| party to get her a good hand.  If dancing formed the
111:054,05['  ]| amusement of the night, they were partners for half the
111:054,06['  ]| time; and when obliged to separate for a couple of
111:054,07['  ]| dances, were careful to stand together and scarcely
111:054,08['  ]| spoke a word to any*body else.  Such conduct made
111:054,09['  ]| them of course most exceedingly laughed at; but ridicule
111:054,10['  ]| could not shame, and seemed hardly to provoke them.
111:054,11['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood entered into all their feelings with
111:054,12['  ]| a warmth which left her no inclination for checking
111:054,13['  ]| this excessive display of them.  To her it was but the
111:054,14['  ]| natural consequence of a strong affection in a young
111:054,15['  ]| and ardent mind.
111:054,16['  ]| This was the season of happiness to Marianne.  Her
111:054,17['  ]| heart was devoted to Willoughby, and the fond attachment
111:054,18['  ]| to Norland, which she brought with her from
111:054,19['  ]| Sussex, was more likely to be softened than she had
111:054,20['  ]| thought it possible before, by the charms which his
111:054,21['  ]| society bestowed on her present home.
111:054,22['  ]| Elinor's happiness was not so great.  Her heart was
111:054,23['  ]| not so much at ease, nor her satisfaction in their amusements
111:054,24['  ]| so pure.  They afforded her no companion that
111:054,25['  ]| could make amends for what she had left behind, nor
111:054,26['  ]| that could teach her to think of Norland with less regret
111:054,27['  ]| than ever.  Neither Lady*Middleton nor Mrs%*Jennings
111:054,28['  ]| could supply to her the conversation she missed; although
111:054,29['  ]| the latter was an everlasting talker, and from the first
111:054,30['  ]| had regarded her with a kindness which ensured her
111:054,31['  ]| a large share of her discourse.  She had already repeated
111:054,32['  ]| her own history to Elinor three or four times; and had
111:054,33['  ]| Elinor's memory been equal to her means of improvement,
111:054,34['  ]| she might have known very early in their acquaintance,
111:054,35['  ]| all the particulars of Mr%*Jennings's last illness,
111:054,36['  ]| and what he said to his wife a few minutes before he died.
111:054,37['  ]| Lady*Middleton was more agreeable than her mother,
111:054,38['  ]| only in being more silent.  Elinor needed little observation
111:055,01['  ]| to perceive that her reserve was a mere calmness
111:055,02['  ]| of manner with which sense had nothing to do.  Towards
111:055,03['  ]| her husband and mother she was the same as to them;
111:055,04['  ]| and intimacy was therefore neither to be looked for nor
111:055,05['  ]| desired.  She had nothing to say one day that she had
111:055,06['  ]| not said the day before.  Her insipidity was invariable,
111:055,07['  ]| for even her spirits were always the same; and though
111:055,08['  ]| she did not oppose the parties arranged by her husband,
111:055,09['  ]| provided every*thing were conducted in style and her
111:055,10['  ]| two eldest children attended her, she never appeared
111:055,11['  ]| to receive more enjoyment from them, than she might
111:055,12['  ]| have experienced in sitting at home; ~~ and so little did
111:055,13['  ]| her presence add to the pleasure of the others, by any
111:055,14['  ]| share in their conversation, that they were sometimes
111:055,15['  ]| only reminded of her being amongst them by her solicitude
111:055,16['  ]| about her troublesome boys.
111:055,17['  ]| In Colonel*Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintance,
111:055,18['  ]| did Elinor find a person who could in any degree claim
111:055,19['  ]| the respect of abilities, excite the interest of friendship,
111:055,20['  ]| or give pleasure as a companion.  Willoughby was out
111:055,21['  ]| of the question.  Her admiration and regard, even her
111:055,22['  ]| sisterly regard, was all his own; but he was a lover;
111:055,23['  ]| his attentions were wholly Marianne's, and a far less
111:055,24['  ]| agreeable man might have been more generally pleasing.
111:055,25['  ]| Colonel*Brandon, unfortunately for himself, had no
111:055,26['  ]| such encouragement to think only of Marianne, and in
111:055,27['  ]| conversing with Elinor he found the greatest consolation
111:055,28['  ]| for the total indifference of her sister.
111:055,29['  ]| Elinor's compassion for him increased, as she had
111:055,30['  ]| reason to suspect that the misery of disappointed love
111:055,31['  ]| had already been known by him.  This suspicion was
111:055,32['  ]| given by some words which accidentally dropt from him
111:055,33['  ]| one evening at the park, when they were sitting down
111:055,34['  ]| together by mutual consent, while the others were
111:055,35['  ]| dancing.  His eyes were fixed on Marianne, and, after
111:055,36['  ]| a silence of some minutes, he said with a faint smile,
111:055,37[H  ]| "Your sister, I understand, does not approve of second
111:055,38[H  ]| attachments."
111:056,01[A  ]| "No,"
111:056,01['  ]| replied Elinor,
111:056,01[A  ]| "her opinions are all romantic."
111:056,02[H  ]| "Or rather, as I believe, she considers them impossible
111:056,03[H  ]| to exist."
111:056,04[A  ]| "I believe she does.  But how she contrives it without
111:056,05[A  ]| reflecting on the character of her own father, who had
111:056,06[A  ]| himself two wives, I know not.  A few years however
111:056,07[A  ]| will settle her opinions on the reasonable basis of common
111:056,08[A  ]| sense and observation; and then they may be more
111:056,09[A  ]| easy to define and to justify than they now are, by any*body
111:056,10[A  ]| but herself."
111:056,11[H  ]| "This will probably be the case,"
111:056,11['  ]| he replied;
111:056,11[H  ]| "and
111:056,12[H  ]| yet there is something so amiable in the prejudices of
111:056,13[H  ]| a young mind, that one is sorry to see them give way
111:056,14[H  ]| to the reception of more general opinions."
111:056,15[A  ]| "I cannot agree with you there,"
111:056,15['  ]| said Elinor.
111:056,15[A  ]| "There
111:056,16[A  ]| are inconveniences attending such feelings as Marianne's,
111:056,17[A  ]| which all the charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of
111:056,18[A  ]| the world cannot atone for.  Her systems have all the
111:056,19[A  ]| unfortunate tendency of setting propriety at nought;
111:056,20[A  ]| and a better acquaintance with the world is what I look
111:056,21[A  ]| forward to as her greatest possible advantage."
111:056,22['  ]| After a short pause he resumed the conversation by
111:056,23['  ]| saying ~~
111:056,24[H  ]| "Does your sister make no distinction in her objections
111:056,25[H  ]| against a second attachment?  or is it equally
111:056,26[H  ]| criminal in every*body?  Are those who have been
111:056,27[H  ]| disappointed in their first choice, whether from the
111:056,28[H  ]| inconstancy of its object, or the perverseness of circumstances,
111:056,29[H  ]| to be equally indifferent during the rest of
111:056,30[H  ]| their lives?"
111:056,31[A  ]| "Upon my word, I am not acquainted with the
111:056,32[A  ]| minutia of her principles.  I only know that I never yet
111:056,33[A  ]| heard her admit any instance of a second attachment's
111:056,34[A  ]| being pardonable."
111:056,35[H  ]| "This,"
111:056,35['  ]| said he,
111:056,35[H  ]| "cannot hold; but a change, a
111:056,36[H  ]| total change of sentiments ~~ No, no, do not desire it, ~~
111:056,37[H  ]| for when the romantic refinements of a young mind are
111:056,38[H  ]| obliged to give way, how frequently are they succeeded
111:057,01[H  ]| by such opinions as are but too common, and too
111:057,02[H  ]| dangerous!  I speak from experience.  I once knew
111:057,03[H  ]| a lady who in temper and mind greatly resembled your
111:057,04[H  ]| sister, who thought and judged like her, but who from
111:057,05[H  ]| an inforced change ~~ from a series of unfortunate
111:057,06[H  ]| circumstances" ~~
111:057,06['  ]| Here he stopt suddenly; appeared
111:057,07['  ]| to think that he had said too much, and by his countenance
111:057,08['  ]| gave rise to conjectures, which might not
111:057,09['  ]| otherwise have entered Elinor's head.  The lady would
111:057,10['  ]| probably have passed without suspicion, had he not
111:057,11['  ]| convinced Miss*Dashwood that what concerned her
111:057,12['  ]| ought not to escape his lips.  As it was, it required but
111:057,13['  ]| a slight effort of fancy to connect his emotion with the
111:057,14['  ]| tender recollection of past regard.  Elinor attempted
111:057,15['  ]| no more.  But Marianne, in her place, would not have
111:057,16['  ]| done so little.  The whole story would have been speedily
111:057,17['  ]| formed under her active imagination; and every*thing
111:057,18['  ]| established in the most melancholy order of disastrous
111:057,19['  ]| love.
112:058,01['  ]| As Elinor and Marianne were walking together the
112:058,02['  ]| next morning the latter communicated a piece of news
112:058,03['  ]| to her sister, which in spite of all that she knew before
112:058,04['  ]| of Marianne's imprudence and want of thought, surprised
112:058,05['  ]| her by its extravagant testimony of both.  Marianne
112:058,06['  ]| told her, with the greatest delight, that
112:058,06@c   | Willoughby
112:058,07@c   | had given her a horse, one that he had bred himself on
112:058,08@c   | his estate in Somersetshire, and which was exactly
112:058,09@c   | calculated to carry a woman.
112:058,09['  ]| Without considering that
112:058,10['  ]| it was not in her mother's plan to keep any horse,
112:058,11['  ]| that if she were to alter her resolution in favour of this
112:058,12['  ]| gift, she must buy another for the servant, and keep
112:058,13['  ]| a servant to ride it, and after all, build a stable to receive
112:058,14['  ]| them, she had accepted the present without hesitation,
112:058,15['  ]| and told her sister of it in raptures.
112:058,16[C  ]| "He intends to send his groom into Somersetshire
112:058,17[C  ]| immediately for it,"
112:058,17['  ]| she added,
112:058,17[C  ]| "and when it arrives,
112:058,18[C  ]| we will ride every day.  You shall share its use with me.
112:058,19[C  ]| Imagine to yourself, my dear Elinor, the delight of
112:058,20[C  ]| a gallop on some of these downs."
112:058,21['  ]| Most unwilling was she to awaken from such a dream
112:058,22['  ]| of felicity, to comprehend all the unhappy truths which
112:058,23['  ]| attended the affair; and for some time she refused to
112:058,24['  ]| submit to them.
112:058,24@c   | As to an additional servant, the
112:058,25@c   | expence would be a trifle; mama she was sure would
112:058,26@c   | never object to it; and any horse would do for \him\;
112:058,27@c   | he might always get one at the park; as to a stable,
112:058,28@c   | the merest shed would be sufficient.
112:058,28['  ]| Elinor then
112:058,29['  ]| ventured to doubt the propriety of her receiving such
112:058,30['  ]| a present from a man so little, or at least so lately
112:058,31['  ]| known to her.  This was too much.
112:058,32[C  ]| "You are mistaken, Elinor,"
112:058,32['  ]| said she warmly,
112:058,32[C  ]| "in
112:058,33[C  ]| supposing I know very little of Willoughby.  I have not
112:059,01[C  ]| known him long indeed, but I am much better acquainted
112:059,02[C  ]| with him, than I am with any other creature
112:059,03[C  ]| in the world, except yourself and mama.  It is not time
112:059,04[C  ]| or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; ~~ it is
112:059,05[C  ]| disposition alone.  Seven years would be insufficient to
112:059,06[C  ]| make some people acquainted with each other, and seven
112:059,07[C  ]| days are more than enough for others.  I should hold
112:059,08[C  ]| myself guilty of greater impropriety in accepting a horse
112:059,09[C  ]| from my brother, than from Willoughby.  Of John I know
112:059,10[C  ]| very little, though we have lived together for years;
112:059,11[C  ]| but of Willoughby my judgment has long been formed."
112:059,12['  ]| Elinor thought it wisest to touch that point no more.
112:059,13['  ]| She knew her sister's temper.  Opposition on so tender
112:059,14['  ]| a subject would only attach her the more to her own
112:059,15['  ]| opinion.  But by an appeal to her affection for her
112:059,16['  ]| mother, by representing the inconveniences which that
112:059,17['  ]| indulgent mother must draw on herself, if (as would
112:059,18['  ]| probably be the case) she consented to this increase of
112:059,19['  ]| establishment, Marianne was shortly subdued; and she
112:059,20['  ]| promised not to tempt her mother to such imprudent
112:059,21['  ]| kindness by mentioning the offer, and to tell Willoughby
112:059,22['  ]| when she saw him next, that it must be declined.
112:059,23['  ]| She was faithful to her word; and when Willoughby
112:059,24['  ]| called at the cottage, the same day, Elinor heard her
112:059,25['  ]| express her disappointment to him in a low voice, on
112:059,26['  ]| being obliged to forego the acceptance of his present.
112:059,27['  ]| The reasons for this alteration were at the same time
112:059,28['  ]| related, and they were such as to make further entreaty
112:059,29['  ]| on his side impossible.  His concern however was very
112:059,30['  ]| apparent; and after expressing it with earnestness, he
112:059,31['  ]| added in the same low voice ~~
112:059,31[R  ]| "But, Marianne, the horse
112:059,32[R  ]| is still yours, though you cannot use it now.  I shall keep
112:059,33[R  ]| it only till you can claim it.  When you leave Barton
112:059,34[R  ]| to form your own establishment in a more lasting home,
112:059,35[R  ]| Queen*Mab shall receive you."
112:059,36['  ]| This was all overheard by Miss*Dashwood;
112:059,36@a   | and in
112:059,37@a   | the whole of the sentence, in his manner of pronouncing
112:059,38@a   | it, and in his addressing her sister by her christian name
112:060,01@a   | alone, she instantly saw an intimacy so decided, a meaning
112:060,02@a   | so direct, as marked a perfect agreement between
112:060,03@a   | them.
112:060,03['  ]| From that moment she doubted not of their
112:060,04['  ]| being engaged to each other; and the belief of it created
112:060,05['  ]| no other surprise, than that she, or any of their friends,
112:060,06['  ]| should be left by tempers so frank, to discover it by
112:060,07['  ]| accident.
112:060,08['  ]| Margaret related something to her the next day,
112:060,09['  ]| which placed this matter in a still clearer light.  Willoughby
112:060,10['  ]| had spent the preceding evening with them,
112:060,11['  ]| and Margaret, being left some time in the parlour
112:060,12['  ]| with only him and Marianne, had had opportunity for
112:060,13['  ]| observations, which, with a most important face, she
112:060,14['  ]| communicated to her eldest sister, when they were next
112:060,15['  ]| by themselves.
112:060,16[E  ]| "Oh! Elinor,"
112:060,16['  ]| she cried,
112:060,16[E  ]| "I have such a secret to
112:060,17[E  ]| tell you about Marianne.  I am sure she will be married
112:060,18[E  ]| to Mr%*Willoughby very soon."
112:060,19[A  ]| "You have said so,"
112:060,19['  ]| replied Elinor,
112:060,19[A  ]| "almost every
112:060,20[A  ]| day since they first met on High-church*Down; and
112:060,21[A  ]| they had not known each other a week, I believe, before
112:060,22[A  ]| you were certain that Marianne wore his picture round
112:060,23[A  ]| her neck; but it turned out to be only the miniature
112:060,24[A  ]| of our great*uncle."
112:060,25[E  ]| "But indeed this is quite another thing.  I am sure
112:060,26[E  ]| they will be married very soon, for he has got a lock of her
112:060,27[E  ]| hair."
112:060,28[A  ]| "Take care, Margaret.  It may be only the hair of
112:060,29[A  ]| some great*uncle of \his\."
112:060,30[E  ]| "But indeed, Elinor, it is Marianne's.  I am almost
112:060,31[E  ]| sure it is, for I saw him cut it off.  Last night after tea,
112:060,32[E  ]| when you and mama went out of the room, they were
112:060,33[E  ]| whispering and talking together as fast as could be, and
112:060,34[E  ]| he seemed to be begging something of her, and presently
112:060,35[E  ]| he took up her scissars and cut off a long lock of her hair,
112:060,36[E  ]| for it was all tumbled down her back; and he kissed
112:060,37[E  ]| it, and folded it up in a piece of white paper, and put
112:060,38[E  ]| it into his pocket-book."
112:061,01['  ]| From such particulars, stated on such authority,
112:061,02['  ]| Elinor could not withhold her credit:  nor was she disposed
112:061,03['  ]| to it, for the circumstance was in perfect unison
112:061,04['  ]| with what she had heard and seen herself.
112:061,05['  ]| Margaret's sagacity was not always displayed in
112:061,06['  ]| a way so satisfactory to her sister.  When Mrs%*Jennings
112:061,07['  ]| attacked her one evening at the park, to give the name
112:061,08['  ]| of the young man who was Elinor's particular favourite,
112:061,09['  ]| which had been long a matter of great curiosity to her,
112:061,10['  ]| Margaret answered by looking at her sister, and saying,
112:061,11[E  ]| "I must not tell, may I, Elinor?"
112:061,12['  ]| This of course made every*body laugh; and Elinor
112:061,13['  ]| tried to laugh too.  But the effort was painful.  She was
112:061,14['  ]| convinced that Margaret had fixed on a person, whose
112:061,15['  ]| name she could not bear with composure to become
112:061,16['  ]| a standing joke with Mrs%*Jennings.
112:061,17['  ]| Marianne felt for her most sincerely; but she did
112:061,18['  ]| more harm than good to the cause, by turning very
112:061,19['  ]| red, and saying in an angry manner to Margaret,
112:061,20[C  ]| "Remember that whatever your conjectures may be,
112:061,21[C  ]| you have no right to repeat them."
112:061,22[E  ]| "I never had any conjectures about it,"
112:061,22['  ]| replied
112:061,23['  ]| Margaret;
112:061,23[E  ]| "it was you who told me of it yourself."
112:061,24['  ]| This increased the mirth of the company, and Margaret
112:061,25['  ]| was eagerly pressed to say something more.
112:061,26[K  ]| "Oh!  pray, Miss*Margaret, let us know all about
112:061,27[K  ]| it,"
112:061,27['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings.
112:061,27[K  ]| "What is the gentleman's
112:061,28[K  ]| name?"
112:061,29[E  ]| "I must not tell, ma'am.  But I know very well
112:061,30[E  ]| what it is; and I know where he is too."
112:061,31[K  ]| "Yes, yes, we can guess where he is; at his own
112:061,32[K  ]| house at Norland to be sure.  He is the curate of the
112:061,33[K  ]| parish I dare say."
112:061,34[E  ]| "No, \that\ he is not.  He is of no profession at all."
112:061,35[C  ]| "Margaret,"
112:061,35['  ]| said Marianne with great warmth,
112:061,35[C  ]| "you
112:061,36[C  ]| know that all this is an invention of your own, and that
112:061,37[C  ]| there is no such person in existence."
112:061,38[E  ]| "Well then he is lately dead, Marianne, for I am sure
112:062,01[E  ]| there was such a man once, and his name begins with
112:062,02[E  ]| an F."
112:062,03['  ]| Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady*Middleton for
112:062,04['  ]| observing at this moment,
112:062,04@m   | "that it rained very hard,"
112:062,05['  ]| though she believed the interruption to proceed less from
112:062,06['  ]| any attention to her, than from her ladyship's great
112:062,07['  ]| dislike of all such inelegant subjects of raillery as delighted
112:062,08['  ]| her husband and mother.  The idea however started by
112:062,09['  ]| her, was immediately pursued by Colonel*Brandon,
112:062,10['  ]| who was on every occasion mindful of the feelings of
112:062,11['  ]| others; and much was said on the subject of rain by
112:062,12['  ]| both of them.  Willoughby opened the piano-forte, and
112:062,13['  ]| asked Marianne to sit down to it; and thus amidst the
112:062,14['  ]| various endeavours of different people to quit the topic,
112:062,15['  ]| it fell to the ground.  But not so easily did Elinor recover
112:062,16['  ]| from the alarm into which it had thrown her.
112:062,17['  ]| A party was formed this evening for going on the
112:062,18['  ]| following day to see a very fine place about twelve
112:062,19['  ]| miles from Barton, belonging to a brother-in-law of
112:062,20['  ]| Colonel*Brandon, without whose interest it could not
112:062,21['  ]| be seen, as the proprietor, who was then abroad, had
112:062,22['  ]| left strict orders on that head.  The grounds were
112:062,23['  ]| declared to be highly beautiful, and Sir*John, who was
112:062,24['  ]| particularly warm in their praise, might be allowed to
112:062,25['  ]| be a tolerable judge, for he had formed parties to visit
112:062,26['  ]| them, at least, twice every summer for the last ten years.
112:062,27['  ]| They contained a noble piece of water; a sail on which
112:062,28['  ]| was to form a great part of the morning's amusement;
112:062,29['  ]| cold provisions were to be taken, open carriages only
112:062,30['  ]| to be employed, and every*thing conducted in the usual
112:062,31['  ]| style of a complete party of pleasure.
112:062,32['  ]| To some few of the company, it appeared rather a bold
112:062,33['  ]| undertaking, considering the time of year, and that it
112:062,34['  ]| had rained every day for the last fortnight; ~~ and Mrs%*Dashwood,
112:062,35['  ]| who had already a cold, was persuaded by
112:062,36['  ]| Elinor to stay at home.
113:063,01['  ]| Their intended excursion to Whitwell turned out very
113:063,02['  ]| differently from what Elinor had expected.  She was prepared
113:063,03['  ]| to be wet through, fatigued, and frightened; but the
113:063,04['  ]| event was still more unfortunate, for they did not go at all.
113:063,05['  ]| By ten o'clock the whole party were assembled at
113:063,06['  ]| the park, where they were to breakfast.  The morning
113:063,07['  ]| was rather favourable, though it had rained all night,
113:063,08['  ]| as the clouds were then dispersing across the sky, and
113:063,09['  ]| the sun frequently appeared.  They were all in high
113:063,10['  ]| spirits and good*humour, eager to be happy, and
113:063,11['  ]| determined to submit to the greatest inconveniences
113:063,12['  ]| and hardships rather than be otherwise.
113:063,13['  ]| While they were at breakfast the letters were brought
113:063,14['  ]| in.  Among the rest there was one for Colonel*Brandon;
113:063,15['  ]| ~~ he took it, looked at the direction, changed colour,
113:063,16['  ]| and immediately left the room.
113:063,17[L  ]| "What is the matter with Brandon?"
113:063,17['  ]| said Sir*John.
113:063,18['  ]| Nobody could tell.
113:063,19[M  ]| "I hope he has had no bad news,"
113:063,19['  ]| said Lady*Middleton.
113:063,20[M  ]| "It must be something extraordinary that could
113:063,21[M  ]| make Colonel*Brandon leave my breakfast*table so
113:063,22[M  ]| suddenly."
113:063,23['  ]| In about five minutes he returned.
113:063,24[K  ]| "No bad news, Colonel, I hope;"
113:063,24['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
113:063,25['  ]| as soon as he entered the room.
113:063,26[H  ]| "None at all, ma'am, I thank you."
113:063,27[K  ]| "Was it from Avignon?  I hope it is not to say that
113:063,28[K  ]| your sister is worse."
113:063,29[H  ]| "No, ma'am.  It came from town, and is merely
113:063,30[H  ]| a letter of business."
113:063,31[K  ]| "But how came the hand to discompose you so much,
113:063,32[K  ]| if it was only a letter of business?  Come, come, this
113:063,33[K  ]| wo'nt do, Colonel; so let us hear the truth of it."
113:064,01[M  ]| "My dear Madam,"
113:064,01['  ]| said Lady*Middleton,
113:064,01[M  ]| "recollect
113:064,02[M  ]| what you are saying."
113:064,03[K  ]| "Perhaps it is to tell you that your cousin Fanny
113:064,04[K  ]| is married?"
113:064,04['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings, without attending
113:064,05['  ]| to her daughter's reproof.
113:064,06[H  ]| "No, indeed, it is not."
113:064,07[K  ]| "Well, then, I know who it is from, Colonel.  And
113:064,08[K  ]| I hope she is well."
113:064,09[H  ]| "Whom do you mean, ma'am?"
113:064,09['  ]| said he, colouring
113:064,10['  ]| a little.
113:064,11[K  ]| "Oh! you know who I mean."
113:064,12[H  ]| "I am particularly sorry, ma'am,"
113:064,12['  ]| said he, addressing
113:064,13['  ]| Lady*Middleton,
113:064,13[H  ]| "that I should receive this letter to-day,
113:064,14[H  ]| for it is on business which requires my immediate
113:064,15[H  ]| attendance in town."
113:064,16[K  ]| "In town!"
113:064,16['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings.
113:064,16[K  ]| "What can you
113:064,17[K  ]| have to do in town at this time of year?"
113:064,18[H  ]| "My own loss is great,"
113:064,18['  ]| he continued,
113:064,18[H  ]| "in being
113:064,19[H  ]| obliged to leave so agreeable a party; but I am the more
113:064,20[H  ]| concerned, as I fear my presence is necessary to gain
113:064,21[H  ]| your admittance at Whitwell."
113:064,22['  ]| What a blow upon them all was this!
113:064,23[C  ]| "But if you write a note to the housekeeper, Mr%*Brandon,"
113:064,24['  ]| said Marianne eagerly,
113:064,24[C  ]| "will it not be
113:064,25[C  ]| sufficient?"
113:064,26['  ]| He shook his head.
113:064,27[L  ]| "We must go,"
113:064,27['  ]| said Sir*John. ~~
113:064,27[L  ]| "It shall not be put
113:064,28[L  ]| off when we are so near it.  You cannot go to town till
113:064,29[L  ]| to-morrow, Brandon, that is all."
113:064,30[H  ]| "I wish it could be so easily settled.  But it is not
113:064,31[H  ]| in my power to delay my journey for one day!"
113:064,32[K  ]| "If you would but let us know what your business
113:064,33[K  ]| is,"
113:064,33['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
113:064,33[K  ]| "we might see whether it could
113:064,34[K  ]| be put off or not."
113:064,35[R  ]| "You would not be six hours later,"
113:064,35['  ]| said Willoughby,
113:064,36[R  ]| "if you were to defer your journey till our return."
113:064,37[H  ]| "I cannot afford to lose \one\ hour." ~~
113:064,38['  ]| Elinor then heard Willoughby say in a low voice to
113:065,01['  ]| Marianne,
113:065,01[R  ]| "There are some people who cannot bear
113:065,02[R  ]| a party of pleasure.  Brandon is one of them.  He was
113:065,03[R  ]| afraid of catching cold I dare say, and invented this
113:065,04[R  ]| trick for getting out of it.  I would lay fifty guineas the
113:065,05[R  ]| letter was of his own writing."
113:065,06[C  ]| "I have no doubt of it,"
113:065,06['  ]| replied Marianne.
113:065,07[L  ]| "There is no persuading you to change your mind,
113:065,08[L  ]| Brandon, I know of old,"
113:065,08['  ]| said Sir*John,
113:065,08[L  ]| "when once
113:065,09[L  ]| you are determined on any*thing.  But, however,
113:065,10[L  ]| I hope you will think better of it.  Consider, here are
113:065,11[L  ]| the two Miss*Careys come over from Newton, the three
113:065,12[L  ]| Miss*Dashwoods walked up from the cottage, and
113:065,13[L  ]| Mr%*Willoughby got up two hours before his usual time,
113:065,14[L  ]| on purpose to go to Whitwell."
113:065,15['  ]| Colonel*Brandon again repeated his sorrow at being
113:065,16['  ]| the cause of disappointing the party; but at the same
113:065,17['  ]| time declared it to be unavoidable.
113:065,18[L  ]| "Well then, when will you come back again?"
113:065,19[M  ]| "I hope we shall see you at Barton,"
113:065,19['  ]| added her ladyship,
113:065,20[M  ]| "as soon as you can conveniently leave town;
113:065,21[M  ]| and we must put off the party to Whitwell till you
113:065,22[M  ]| return."
113:065,23[H  ]| "You are very obliging.  But it is so uncertain, when
113:065,24[H  ]| I may have it in my power to return, that I dare not
113:065,25[H  ]| engage for it at all."
113:065,26[L  ]| "Oh! he must and shall come back,"
113:065,26['  ]| cried Sir*John.
113:065,27[L  ]| "If he is not here by the end of the week, I shall go
113:065,28[L  ]| after him."
113:065,29[K  ]| "Aye, so do, Sir*John,"
113:065,29['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings,
113:065,29[K  ]| "and
113:065,30[K  ]| then perhaps you may find out what his business is."
113:065,31[L  ]| "I do not want to pry into other men's concerns.
113:065,32[L  ]| I suppose it is something he is ashamed of."
113:065,33['  ]| Colonel*Brandon's horses were announced.
113:065,34[L  ]| "You do not go to town on horseback, do you?"
113:065,35['  ]| added Sir*John.
113:065,36[H  ]| "No.  Only to Honiton.  I shall then go post."
113:065,37[L  ]| "Well, as you are resolved to go, I wish you a good
113:065,38[L  ]| journey.  But you had better change your mind."
113:066,01[H  ]| "I assure you it is not in my power."
113:066,02['  ]|  He then took leave of the whole party.
113:066,03[H  ]| "Is there no chance of my seeing you and your
113:066,04[H  ]| sisters in town this winter, Miss*Dashwood?"
113:066,05[A  ]| "I am afraid, none at all."
113:066,06[H  ]| "Then I must bid you farewell for a longer time
113:066,07[H  ]| than I should wish to do."
113:066,08['  ]| To Marianne, he merely bowed and said nothing.
113:066,09[K  ]| "Come, Colonel,"
113:066,09['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
113:066,09[K  ]| "before you go,
113:066,10[K  ]| do let us know what you are going about."
113:066,11['  ]| He wished her a good morning, and attended by
113:066,12['  ]| Sir*John, left the room.
113:066,13['  ]| The complaints and lamentations which politeness
113:066,14['  ]| had hitherto restrained, now burst forth universally;
113:066,15['  ]| and they all agreed again and again how provoking it
113:066,16['  ]| was to be so disappointed.
113:066,17[K  ]| "I can guess what his business is, however,"
113:066,17['  ]| said
113:066,18['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings exultingly.
113:066,19[X  ]| "Can you, ma'am?"
113:066,19['  ]| said almost every*body.
113:066,20[K  ]| "Yes; it is about Miss*Williams, I am sure."
113:066,21[C  ]| "And who is Miss*Williams?"
113:066,21['  ]| asked Marianne.
113:066,22[K  ]| "What! do not you know who Miss*Williams is?
113:066,23[K  ]| I am sure you must have heard of her before.  She
113:066,24[K  ]| is a relation of the Colonel's, my dear; a very near
113:066,25[K  ]| relation.  We will not say how near, for fear of shocking
113:066,26[K  ]| the young ladies."
113:066,26['  ]| Then lowering her voice a little,
113:066,27['  ]| she said to Elinor,
113:066,27[K  ]| "She is his natural daughter."
113:066,28[A  ]| "Indeed!"
113:066,29[K  ]| "Oh! yes; and as like him as she can stare.  I dare
113:066,30[K  ]| say the Colonel will leave her all his fortune."
113:066,31['  ]| When Sir*John returned, he joined most heartily
113:066,32['  ]| in the general regret on so unfortunate an event;
113:066,33['  ]| concluding however by observing, that
113:066,33@l   | as they were all
113:066,34@l   | got together, they must do something by way of being
113:066,35@l   | happy;
113:066,35['  ]| and after some consultation it was agreed,
113:066,36['  ]| that although happiness could only be enjoyed at
113:066,37['  ]| Whitwell, they might procure a tolerable composure
113:066,38['  ]| of mind by driving about the country.  The carriages
113:067,01['  ]| were then ordered; Willoughby's was first, and Marianne
113:067,02['  ]| never looked happier than when she got into it.  He
113:067,03['  ]| drove through the park very fast, and they were soon
113:067,04['  ]| out of sight; and nothing more of them was seen till
113:067,05['  ]| their return, which did not happen till after the return
113:067,06['  ]| of all the rest.  They both seemed delighted with their
113:067,07['  ]| drive, but said only in general terms that they had kept
113:067,08['  ]| in the lanes, while the others went on the downs.
113:067,09['  ]| It was settled that there should be a dance in the
113:067,10['  ]| evening, and that every*body should be extremely
113:067,11['  ]| merry all day long.  Some more of the Careys came to
113:067,12['  ]| dinner, and they had the pleasure of sitting down nearly
113:067,13['  ]| twenty to table, which Sir*John observed with great
113:067,14['  ]| contentment.  Willoughby took his usual place between
113:067,15['  ]| the two elder Miss*Dashwoods.  Mrs%*Jennings sat on
113:067,16['  ]| Elinor's right hand; and they had not been long
113:067,17['  ]| seated, before she leant behind her and Willoughby,
113:067,18['  ]| and said to Marianne, loud enough for them both to
113:067,19['  ]| hear,
113:067,19[K  ]| "I have found you out in spite of all your tricks.
113:067,20[K  ]| I know where you spent the morning."
113:067,21['  ]| Marianne coloured, and replied very hastily,
113:067,21[C  ]| "Where,
113:067,22[C  ]| pray?" ~~
113:067,23[R  ]| "Did not you know,"
113:067,23['  ]| said Willoughby,
113:067,23[R  ]| "that we
113:067,24[R  ]| had been out in my curricle?"
113:067,25[K  ]| "Yes, yes, Mr%*Impudence, I know that very well,
113:067,26[K  ]| and I was determined to find out \where\ you had been to.
113:067,27[K  ]| ~~ I hope you like your house, Miss*Marianne.  It is
113:067,28[K  ]| a very large one I know, and when I come to see you,
113:067,29[K  ]| I hope you will have new-furnished it, for it wanted it
113:067,30[K  ]| very much, when I was there six years ago."
113:067,31['  ]| Marianne turned away in great confusion.  Mrs%*Jennings
113:067,32['  ]| laughed heartily; and Elinor found that in
113:067,33['  ]| her resolution to know where they had been, she had
113:067,34['  ]| actually made her own woman enquire of Mr%*Willoughby's
113:067,35['  ]| groom, and that she had by that method been
113:067,36['  ]| informed that they had gone to Allenham, and spent
113:067,37['  ]| a considerable time there in walking about the garden
113:067,38['  ]| and going all over the house.
113:068,01['  ]| Elinor could hardly believe this to be true, as it
113:068,02['  ]| seemed very unlikely that Willoughby should propose,
113:068,03['  ]| or Marianne consent, to enter the house while Mrs%*Smith
113:068,04['  ]| was in it, with whom Marianne had not the
113:068,05['  ]| smallest acquaintance.
113:068,06['  ]| As soon as they left the dining-room, Elinor enquired
113:068,07['  ]| of her about it; and great was her surprise when she
113:068,08['  ]| found that every circumstance related by Mrs%*Jennings
113:068,09['  ]| was perfectly true.  Marianne was quite angry with her
113:068,10['  ]| for doubting it.
113:068,11[C  ]| "Why should you imagine, Elinor, that we did not
113:068,12[C  ]| go there, or that we did not see the house?  Is not it
113:068,13[C  ]| what you have often wished to do yourself?"
113:068,14[A  ]| "Yes, Marianne, but I would not go while Mrs%*Smith
113:068,15[A  ]| was there, and with no other companion than Mr%*Willoughby."
113:068,17[C  ]| "Mr%*Willoughby however is the only person who can
113:068,18[C  ]| have a right to shew that house; and as we went in
113:068,19[C  ]| an open carriage, it was impossible to have any other
113:068,20[C  ]| companion.  I never spent a pleasanter morning in
113:068,21[C  ]| my life."
113:068,22[A  ]| "I am afraid,"
113:068,22['  ]| replied Elinor,
113:068,22[A  ]| "that the pleasantness
113:068,23[A  ]| of an employment does not always evince its propriety."
113:068,24[C  ]| "On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof
113:068,25[C  ]| of it, Elinor; for if there had been any real impropriety
113:068,26[C  ]| in what I did, I should have been sensible of it at the
113:068,27[C  ]| time, for we always know when we are acting wrong,
113:068,28[C  ]| and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure."
113:068,29[A  ]| "But, my dear Marianne, as it has already exposed
113:068,30[A  ]| you to some very impertinent remarks, do you not
113:068,31[A  ]| now begin to doubt the discretion of your own conduct?"
113:068,32[C  ]| "If the impertinent remarks of Mrs%*Jennings are
113:068,33[C  ]| to be the proof of impropriety in conduct, we are all
113:068,34[C  ]| offending every moment of our lives.  I value not
113:068,35[C  ]| her censure any more than I should do her commendation.
113:068,36[C  ]| I am not sensible of having done any*thing wrong
113:068,37[C  ]| in walking over Mrs%*Smith's grounds, or in seeing her
113:068,38[C  ]| house.  They will one day be Mr%*Willoughby's, and" ~~
113:069,01[A  ]|  "If they were one day to be your own, Marianne,
113:069,02[A  ]| you would not be justified in what you have done."
113:069,03['  ]| She blushed at this hint; but it was even visibly
113:069,04['  ]| gratifying to her; and after a ten minutes' interval of
113:069,05['  ]| earnest thought, she came to her sister again, and said
113:069,06['  ]| with great good*humour,
113:069,06[C  ]| "Perhaps, Elinor, it \was\ rather
113:069,07[C  ]| ill-judged in me to go to Allenham; but Mr%*Willoughby
113:069,08[C  ]| wanted particularly to shew me the place; and it is
113:069,09[C  ]| a charming house I assure you. ~~ There is one remarkably
113:069,10[C  ]| pretty sitting*room up*stairs; of a nice comfortable
113:069,11[C  ]| size for constant use, and with modern furniture it
113:069,12[C  ]| would be delightful.  It is a corner room, and has
113:069,13[C  ]| windows on two sides.  On one side you look across the
113:069,14[C  ]| bowling-green, behind the house, to a beautiful hanging*wood,
113:069,15[C  ]| and on the other you have a view of the church
113:069,16[C  ]| and village, and, beyond them, of those fine bold hills
113:069,17[C  ]| that we have so often admired.  I did not see it to
113:069,18[C  ]| advantage, for nothing could be more forlorn than the
113:069,19[C  ]| furniture, ~~ but if it were newly fitted up ~~ a couple
113:069,20[C  ]| of hundred pounds, Willoughby says, would make it
113:069,21[C  ]| one of the pleasantest summer-rooms in England."
113:069,22['  ]| Could Elinor have listened to her without interruption
113:069,23['  ]| from the others, she would have described every room
113:069,24['  ]| in the house with equal delight.
114:070,01['  ]| The sudden termination of Colonel*Brandon's visit
114:070,02['  ]| at the park, with his steadiness in concealing its cause,
114:070,03['  ]| filled the mind and raised the wonder of Mrs%*Jennings
114:070,04['  ]| for two or three days; she was a great wonderer, as
114:070,05['  ]| every*one must be who takes a very lively interest in all
114:070,06['  ]| the comings and goings of all their acquaintance.  She
114:070,07['  ]| wondered with little intermission
114:070,07@k   | what could be the
114:070,08@k   | reason of it; was sure there must be some bad news,
114:070,09['  ]| and thought over every kind of distress that could have
114:070,10['  ]| befallen him, with a fixed determination that he should
114:070,11['  ]| not escape them all.
114:070,12[K  ]| "Something very melancholy must be the matter,
114:070,13[K  ]| I am sure,"
114:070,13['  ]| said she.
114:070,13[K  ]| "I could see it in his face.  Poor
114:070,14[K  ]| man!  I am afraid his circumstances may be bad.  The
114:070,15[K  ]| estate at Delaford was never reckoned more than two
114:070,16[K  ]| thousand a year, and his brother left every*thing sadly
114:070,17[K  ]| involved.  I do think he must have been sent for about
114:070,18[K  ]| money matters, for what else can it be?  I wonder
114:070,19[K  ]| whether it is so.  I would give any*thing to know the
114:070,20[K  ]| truth of it.  Perhaps it is about Miss*Williams ~~ and,
114:070,21[K  ]| by*the*bye, I dare say it is, because he looked so conscious
114:070,22[K  ]| when I mentioned her.  May*be she is ill in town;
114:070,23[K  ]| nothing in the world more likely, for I have a notion
114:070,24[K  ]| she is always rather sickly.  I would lay any wager it is
114:070,25[K  ]| about Miss*Williams.  It is not so very likely he should
114:070,26[K  ]| be distressed in his circumstances \now\, for he is a very
114:070,27[K  ]| prudent man, and to be sure must have cleared the
114:070,28[K  ]| estate by this time.  I wonder what it can be!  May*be
114:070,29[K  ]| his sister is worse at Avignon, and has sent for him
114:070,30[K  ]| over.  His setting off in such a hurry seems very like
114:070,31[K  ]| it.  Well, I wish him out of all his trouble with all my
114:070,32[K  ]| heart, and a good wife into the bargain."
114:070,33['  ]| So wondered, so talked Mrs%*Jennings, her opinion
114:071,01['  ]| varying with every fresh conjecture, and all seeming
114:071,02['  ]| equally probable as they arose.  Elinor, though she felt
114:071,03['  ]| really interested in the welfare of Colonel*Brandon,
114:071,04['  ]| could not bestow all the wonder on his going so suddenly
114:071,05['  ]| away, which Mrs%*Jennings was desirous of her feeling;
114:071,06['  ]| for besides that the circumstance did not in her opinion
114:071,07['  ]| justify such lasting amazement or variety of speculation,
114:071,08['  ]| her wonder was otherwise disposed of.  It was engrossed
114:071,09['  ]| by the extraordinary silence of her sister and Willoughby
114:071,10['  ]| on the subject, which they must know to be peculiarly
114:071,11['  ]| interesting to them all.  As this silence continued,
114:071,12['  ]| every day made it appear more strange and more
114:071,13['  ]| incompatible with the disposition of both.
114:071,13@a   | Why they
114:071,14@a   | should not openly acknowledge to her mother and herself,
114:071,15@a   | what their constant behaviour to each other
114:071,16@a   | declared to have taken place,
114:071,16['  ]| Elinor could not imagine.
114:071,17['  ]| She could easily conceive that marriage might not
114:071,18['  ]| be immediately in their power; for though Willoughby
114:071,19['  ]| was independent, there was no reason to believe him
114:071,20['  ]| rich.  His estate had been rated by Sir*John at about
114:071,21['  ]| six or seven hundred a year; but he lived at an expense
114:071,22['  ]| to which that income could hardly be equal, and he
114:071,23['  ]| had himself often complained of his poverty.  But for
114:071,24['  ]| this strange kind of secrecy maintained by them relative
114:071,25['  ]| to their engagement, which in fact concealed nothing
114:071,26['  ]| at all, she could not account; and it was so wholly
114:071,27['  ]| contradictory to their general opinions and practice,
114:071,28['  ]| that a doubt sometimes entered her mind of their being
114:071,29['  ]| really engaged, and this doubt was enough to prevent
114:071,30['  ]| her making any inquiry of Marianne.
114:071,31['  ]| Nothing could be more expressive of attachment to
114:071,32['  ]| them all, than Willoughby's behaviour.  To Marianne
114:071,33['  ]| it had all the distinguishing tenderness which a lover's
114:071,34['  ]| heart could give, and to the rest of the family it was the
114:071,35['  ]| affectionate attention of a son and a brother.  The
114:071,36['  ]| cottage seemed to be considered and loved by him as
114:071,37['  ]| his home; many more of his hours were spent there
114:071,38['  ]| than at Allenham; and if no general engagement
114:072,01['  ]| collected them at the park, the exercise which called
114:072,02['  ]| him out in the morning was almost certain of ending
114:072,03['  ]| there, where the rest of the day was spent by himself
114:072,04['  ]| at the side of Marianne, and by his favourite pointer
114:072,05['  ]| at her feet.
114:072,06['  ]| One evening in particular, about a week after Colonel*Brandon
114:072,07['  ]| had left the country, his heart seemed more
114:072,08['  ]| than usually open to every feeling of attachment to
114:072,09['  ]| the objects around him; and on Mrs%*Dashwood's
114:072,10['  ]| happening to mention her design of improving the cottage
114:072,11['  ]| in the spring, he warmly opposed every alteration of
114:072,12['  ]| a place which affection had established as perfect with
114:072,13['  ]| him.
114:072,14[R  ]| "What!"
114:072,14['  ]| he exclaimed ~~
114:072,14[R  ]| "Improve this dear cottage!
114:072,15[R  ]| No.  \That\ I will never consent to.  Not a stone
114:072,16[R  ]| must be added to its walls, not an inch to its size, if my
114:072,17[R  ]| feelings are regarded."
114:072,18[A  ]| "Do not be alarmed,"
114:072,18['  ]| said Miss*Dashwood,
114:072,18[A  ]| "nothing
114:072,19[A  ]| of the kind will be done; for my mother will never have
114:072,20[A  ]| money enough to attempt it."
114:072,21[R  ]| "I am heartily glad of it,"
114:072,21['  ]| he cried.
114:072,21[R  ]| "May she
114:072,22[R  ]| always be poor, if she can employ her riches no better."
114:072,23[D  ]| "Thank you, Willoughby.  But you may be assured
114:072,24[D  ]| that I would not sacrifice one sentiment of local attachment
114:072,25[D  ]| of yours, or of any*one whom I loved, for all the
114:072,26[D  ]| improvements in the world.  Depend upon it that whatever
114:072,27[D  ]| unemployed sum may remain, when I make up
114:072,28[D  ]| my accounts in the spring, I would even rather lay it
114:072,29[D  ]| uselessly by than dispose of it in a manner so painful
114:072,30[D  ]| to you.  But are you really so attached to this place as
114:072,31[D  ]| to see no defect in it?"
114:072,32[R  ]| "I am,"
114:072,32['  ]| said he.
114:072,32[R  ]| "To me it is faultless.  Nay, more,
114:072,33[R  ]| I consider it as the only form of building in which
114:072,34[R  ]| happiness is attainable, and were I rich enough, I would
114:072,35[R  ]| instantly pull Combe down, and build it up again in
114:072,36[R  ]| the exact plan of this cottage."
114:072,37[A  ]| "With dark narrow stairs, and a kitchen that smokes,
114:072,38[A  ]| I suppose,"
114:072,38['  ]| said Elinor.
114:073,01[R  ]| "Yes,"
114:073,01['  ]| cried he in the same eager tone,
114:073,01[R  ]| "with all
114:073,02[R  ]| and every*thing belonging to it; ~~ in no one convenience
114:073,03[R  ]| or \in\convenience about it, should the least variation be
114:073,04[R  ]| perceptible.  Then, and then only, under such a roof,
114:073,05[R  ]| I might perhaps be as happy at Combe as I have been
114:073,06[R  ]| at Barton."
114:073,07[A  ]| "I flatter myself,"
114:073,07['  ]| replied Elinor,
114:073,07[A  ]| "that even under
114:073,08[A  ]| the disadvantage of better rooms and a broader staircase,
114:073,09[A  ]| you will hereafter find your own house as faultless as
114:073,10[A  ]| you now do this."
114:073,11[R  ]| "There certainly are circumstances,"
114:073,11['  ]| said Willoughby,
114:073,12[R  ]| "which might greatly endear it to me; but this place
114:073,13[R  ]| will always have one claim on my affection, which no
114:073,14[R  ]| other can possibly share."
114:073,15['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood looked with pleasure at Marianne,
114:073,16['  ]| whose fine eyes were fixed so expressively on Willoughby,
114:073,17['  ]| as plainly denoted how well she understood him.
114:073,18[R  ]| "How often did I wish,"
114:073,18['  ]| added he,
114:073,18[R  ]| "when I was at
114:073,19[R  ]| Allenham this time twelvemonth, that Barton*cottage
114:073,20[R  ]| were inhabited!  I never passed within view of it without
114:073,21[R  ]| admiring its situation, and grieving that no*one should
114:073,22[R  ]| live in it.  How little did I then think that the very
114:073,23[R  ]| first news I should hear from Mrs%*Smith, when I next
114:073,24[R  ]| came into the country, would be that Barton*cottage
114:073,25[R  ]| was taken:  and I felt an immediate satisfaction and
114:073,26[R  ]| interest in the event, which nothing but a kind of
114:073,27[R  ]| prescience of what happiness I should experience from
114:073,28[R  ]| it, can account for.  Must it not have been so, Marianne?"
114:073,29['  ]| speaking to her in a lowered voice.  Then continuing
114:073,30['  ]| his former tone, he said,
114:073,30[R  ]| "And yet this house you would
114:073,31[R  ]| spoil, Mrs%*Dashwood?  You would rob it of its simplicity
114:073,32[R  ]| by imaginary improvement!  and this dear parlour,
114:073,33[R  ]| in which our acquaintance first began, and in which so
114:073,34[R  ]| many happy hours have been since spent by us together,
114:073,35[R  ]| you would degrade to the condition of a common
114:073,36[R  ]| entrance, and every*body would be eager to pass through
114:073,37[R  ]| the room which has hitherto contained within itself,
114:073,38[R  ]| more real accommodation and comfort than any other
114:074,01[R  ]| apartment of the handsomest dimensions in the world
114:074,02[R  ]| could possibly afford."
114:074,03['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood again assured him that no alteration
114:074,04['  ]| of the kind should be attempted.
114:074,05[R  ]| "You are a good woman,"
114:074,05['  ]| he warmly replied.
114:074,05[R  ]| "Your
114:074,06[R  ]| promise makes me easy.  Extend it a little farther, and
114:074,07[R  ]| it will make me happy.  Tell me that not only your
114:074,08[R  ]| house will remain the same, but that I shall ever find
114:074,09[R  ]| you and yours as unchanged as your dwelling; and
114:074,10[R  ]| that you will always consider me with the kindness
114:074,11[R  ]| which has made every*thing belonging to you so dear
114:074,12[R  ]| to me."
114:074,13['  ]| The promise was readily given, and Willoughby's
114:074,14['  ]| behaviour during the whole of the evening declared at
114:074,15['  ]| once his affection and happiness.
114:074,16[D  ]| "Shall we see you to-morrow to dinner?"
114:074,16['  ]| said
114:074,17['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood when he was leaving them.
114:074,17[D  ]| "I do not
114:074,18[D  ]| ask you to come in the morning, for we must walk to
114:074,19[D  ]| the park, to call on Lady*Middleton."
114:074,20['  ]| He engaged to be with them by four o'clock.
115:075,01['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood's visit to Lady*Middleton took place
115:075,02['  ]| the next day, and two of her daughters went with her;
115:075,03['  ]| but Marianne excused herself from being of the party
115:075,04['  ]| under some trifling pretext of employment; and her
115:075,05['  ]| mother, who concluded that a promise had been made
115:075,06['  ]| by Willoughby the night before of calling on her while
115:075,07['  ]| they were absent, was perfectly satisfied with her
115:075,08['  ]| remaining at home.
115:075,09['  ]| On their return from the park they found Willoughby's
115:075,10['  ]| curricle and servant in waiting at the cottage, and
115:075,11['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood was convinced that her conjecture had
115:075,12['  ]| been just.  So far it was all as she had foreseen; but
115:075,13['  ]| on entering the house she beheld what no foresight
115:075,14['  ]| had taught her to expect.  They were no sooner in the
115:075,15['  ]| passage than Marianne came hastily out of the parlour
115:075,16['  ]| apparently in violent affliction, with her handkerchief
115:075,17['  ]| at her eyes; and without noticing them ran up*stairs.
115:075,18['  ]| Surprised and alarmed they proceeded directly into the
115:075,19['  ]| room she had just quitted, where they found only
115:075,20['  ]| Willoughby, who was leaning against the mantle-piece
115:075,21['  ]| with his back towards them.  He turned round on their
115:075,22['  ]| coming in, and his countenance shewed that he strongly
115:075,23['  ]| partook of the emotion which overpowered Marianne.
115:075,24[D  ]| "Is any*thing the matter with her?"
115:075,24['  ]| cried Mrs%*Dashwood
115:075,25['  ]| as she entered ~~
115:075,25[D  ]| "is she ill?"
115:075,26[R  ]| "I hope not,"
115:075,26['  ]| he replied, trying to look cheerful; and
115:075,27['  ]| with a forced smile presently added,
115:075,27[R  ]| "It is I who may
115:075,28[R  ]| rather expect to be ill ~~ for I am now suffering under
115:075,29[R  ]| a very heavy disappointment!"
115:075,30[D  ]| "Disappointment!"
115:075,31[R  ]| "Yes, for I am unable to keep my engagement with
115:075,32[R  ]| you.  Mrs%*Smith has this morning exercised the privilege
115:075,33[R  ]| of riches upon a poor dependant cousin, by sending me on
115:076,01[R  ]| business to London.  I have just received my dispatches,
115:076,02[R  ]| and taken my farewel of Allenham; and by way of
115:076,03[R  ]| exhilaration I am now come to take my farewel of you."
115:076,04[D  ]| "To London! ~~ and are you going this morning?"
115:076,05[R  ]| "Almost this moment."
115:076,06[D  ]| "This is very unfortunate.  But Mrs%*Smith must be
115:076,07[D  ]| obliged; ~~ and her business will not detain you from
115:076,08[D  ]| us long I hope."
115:076,09['  ]| He coloured as he replied,
115:076,09[R  ]| "You are very kind, but
115:076,10[R  ]| I have no idea of returning into Devonshire immediately.
115:076,11[R  ]| My visits to Mrs%*Smith are never repeated within the
115:076,12[R  ]| twelvemonth."
115:076,13[D  ]| "And is Mrs%*Smith your only friend?  Is Allenham
115:076,14[D  ]| the only house in the neighbourhood to which you will
115:076,15[D  ]| be welcome?  For shame, Willoughby.  Can you wait
115:076,16[D  ]| for an invitation here?"
115:076,17['  ]| His colour increased; and with his eyes fixed on the
115:076,18['  ]| ground he only replied,
115:076,18[R  ]| "You are too good."
115:076,19['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood looked at Elinor with surprise.  Elinor
115:076,20['  ]| felt equal amazement.  For a few moments every*one
115:076,21['  ]| was silent.  Mrs%*Dashwood first spoke.
115:076,22[D  ]| "I have only to add, my dear Willoughby, that at
115:076,23[D  ]| Barton*cottage you will always be welcome; for I
115:076,24[D  ]| will not press you to return here immediately, because
115:076,25[D  ]| you only can judge how far \that\ might be pleasing
115:076,26[D  ]| to Mrs%*Smith; and on this head I shall be no more
115:076,27[D  ]| disposed to question your judgment than to doubt your
115:076,28[D  ]| inclination."
115:076,29[R  ]| "My engagements at present,"
115:076,29['  ]| replied Willoughby
115:076,30['  ]| confusedly,
115:076,30[R  ]| "are of such a nature ~~ that ~~ I dare not
115:076,31[R  ]| flatter myself" ~~
115:076,32['  ]| He stopt.  Mrs%*Dashwood was too much astonished
115:076,33['  ]| to speak, and another pause succeeded.  This was broken
115:076,34['  ]| by Willoughby, who said with a faint smile,
115:076,34[R  ]| "It is folly
115:076,35[R  ]| to linger in this manner.  I will not torment myself
115:076,36[R  ]| any longer by remaining among friends whose society
115:076,37[R  ]| it is impossible for me now to enjoy."
115:076,38['  ]| He then hastily took leave of them all and left the
115:077,01['  ]| room.  They saw him step into his carriage, and in
115:077,02['  ]| a minute it was out of sight.
115:077,03['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood felt too much for speech, and instantly
115:077,04['  ]| quitted the parlour to give way in solitude to the concern
115:077,05['  ]| and alarm which this sudden departure occasioned.
115:077,06['  ]| Elinor's uneasiness was at least equal to her mother's.
115:077,07['  ]| She thought of what had just passed with anxiety and
115:077,08['  ]| distrust.  Willoughby's behaviour in taking leave of
115:077,09['  ]| them, his embarrassment, and affectation of cheerfulness,
115:077,10['  ]| and, above all, his unwillingness to accept her
115:077,11['  ]| mother's invitation, a backwardness so unlike a lover,
115:077,12['  ]| so unlike himself, greatly disturbed her.  One moment
115:077,13['  ]| she feared that no serious design had ever been formed
115:077,14['  ]| on his side; and the next that some unfortunate
115:077,15['  ]| quarrel had taken place between him and her sister; ~~
115:077,16['  ]| the distress in which Marianne had quitted the room was
115:077,17['  ]| such as a serious quarrel could most reasonably account
115:077,18['  ]| for, though when she considered what Marianne's love
115:077,19['  ]| for him was, a quarrel seemed almost impossible.
115:077,20['  ]| But whatever might be the particulars of their separation,
115:077,21['  ]| her sister's affliction was indubitable; and she
115:077,22['  ]| thought with the tenderest compassion of that violent
115:077,23['  ]| sorrow which Marianne was in all probability not merely
115:077,24['  ]| giving way to as a relief, but feeding and encouraging
115:077,25['  ]| as a duty.
115:077,26['  ]| In about half an hour her mother returned, and though
115:077,27['  ]| her eyes were red, her countenance was not uncheerful.
115:077,28[D  ]| "Our dear Willoughby is now some miles from
115:077,29[D  ]| Barton, Elinor,"
115:077,29['  ]| said she, as she sat down to work,
115:077,30[D  ]| "and with how heavy a heart does he travel?"
115:077,31[A  ]| "It is all very strange.  So suddenly to be gone!
115:077,32[A  ]| It seems but the work of a moment.  And last night
115:077,33[A  ]| he was with us so happy, so cheerful, so affectionate?
115:077,34[A  ]| And now after only ten minutes notice ~~ Gone too without
115:077,35[A  ]| intending to return! ~~ Something more than what
115:077,36[A  ]| he owned to us must have happened.  He did not speak,
115:077,37[A  ]| he did not behave like himself.  \You\ must have seen the
115:077,38[A  ]| difference as well as I.  What can it be?  Can they have
115:078,01[A  ]| quarrelled?  Why else should he have shewn such
115:078,02[A  ]| unwillingness to accept your invitation here?" ~~
115:078,03[D  ]| "It was not inclination that he wanted, Elinor;
115:078,04[D  ]| I could plainly see \that\.  He had not the power of
115:078,05[D  ]| accepting it.  I have thought it all over I assure you,
115:078,06[D  ]| and I can perfectly account for every*thing that at first
115:078,07[D  ]| seemed strange to me as well as to you."
115:078,08[A  ]| "Can you indeed?"
115:078,09[D  ]| "Yes.  I have explained it to myself in the most
115:078,10[D  ]| satisfactory way; ~~ but you, Elinor, who love to doubt
115:078,11[D  ]| where you can ~~ It will not satisfy \you\, I know; but
115:078,12[D  ]| you shall not talk \me\ out of my trust in it.  I am persuaded
115:078,13[D  ]| that Mrs%*Smith suspects his regard for Marianne,
115:078,14[D  ]| disapproves of it, (perhaps because she has other views
115:078,15[D  ]| for him,) and on that account is eager to get him away; ~~
115:078,16[D  ]| and that the business which she sends him off to transact,
115:078,17[D  ]| is invented as an excuse to dismiss him.  This is what
115:078,18[D  ]| I believe to have happened.  He is moreover aware that
115:078,19[D  ]| she \does\ disapprove the connection, he dares not therefore
115:078,20[D  ]| at present confess to her his engagement with
115:078,21[D  ]| Marianne, and he feels himself obliged, from his dependent
115:078,22[D  ]| situation, to give into her schemes, and absent
115:078,23[D  ]| himself from Devonshire for a while.  You will tell me,
115:078,24[D  ]| I know, that this may, or may \not\ have happened;
115:078,25[D  ]| but I will listen to no cavil, unless you can point out
115:078,26[D  ]| any other method of understanding the affair as satisfactory
115:078,27[D  ]| as this.  And now, Elinor, what have you to say?"
115:078,28[A  ]| "Nothing, for you have anticipated my answer."
115:078,29[D  ]| "Then you would have told me, that it might or
115:078,30[D  ]| might not have happened.  Oh!  Elinor, how incomprehensible
115:078,31[D  ]| are your feelings!  You had rather take evil
115:078,32[D  ]| upon credit than good.  You had rather look out for
115:078,33[D  ]| misery for Marianne and guilt for poor Willoughby,
115:078,34[D  ]| than an apology for the latter.  You are resolved to
115:078,35[D  ]| think him blameable, because he took leave of us with
115:078,36[D  ]| less affection than his usual behaviour has shewn.  And
115:078,37[D  ]| is no allowance to be made for inadvertence, or for
115:078,38[D  ]| spirits depressed by recent disappointment?  Are no
115:079,01[D  ]| probabilities to be accepted, merely because they are
115:079,02[D  ]| not certainties?  Is nothing due to the man whom we
115:079,03[D  ]| have all so much reason to love, and no reason in the
115:079,04[D  ]| world to think ill of?  To the possibility of motives
115:079,05[D  ]| unanswerable in themselves, though unavoidably secret
115:079,06[D  ]| for a while?  And, after all, what is it you suspect
115:079,07[D  ]| him of?"
115:079,08[A  ]| "I can hardly tell you myself. ~~ But suspicion of
115:079,09[A  ]| something unpleasant is the inevitable consequence of
115:079,10[A  ]| such an alteration as we have just witnessed in him.
115:079,11[A  ]| There is great truth, however, in what you have now
115:079,12[A  ]| urged of the allowances which ought to be made for
115:079,13[A  ]| him, and it is my wish to be candid in my judgment of
115:079,14[A  ]| every*body.  Willoughby may undoubtedly have very
115:079,15[A  ]| sufficient reasons for his conduct, and I will hope that
115:079,16[A  ]| he has.  But it would have been more like Willoughby
115:079,17[A  ]| to acknowledge them at once.  Secrecy may be advisable;
115:079,18[A  ]| but still I cannot help wondering at its being
115:079,19[A  ]| practised by him."
115:079,20[D  ]| "Do not blame him, however, for departing from his
115:079,21[D  ]| character, where the deviation is necessary.  But you
115:079,22[D  ]| really do admit the justice of what I have said in his
115:079,23[D  ]| defence? ~~ I am happy ~~ and he is acquitted."
115:079,24[A  ]| "Not entirely.  It may be proper to conceal their
115:079,25[A  ]| engagement (if they \are\ engaged) from Mrs%*Smith ~~
115:079,26[A  ]| and if that is the case, it must be highly expedient for
115:079,27[A  ]| Willoughby to be but little in Devonshire at present.
115:079,28[A  ]| But this is no excuse for their concealing it from us."
115:079,29[D  ]| "Concealing it from us!  my dear child, do you
115:079,30[D  ]| accuse Willoughby and Marianne of concealment?  This
115:079,31[D  ]| is strange indeed, when your eyes have been reproaching
115:079,32[D  ]| them every day for incautiousness."
115:079,33[A  ]| "I want no proof of their affection,"
115:079,33['  ]| said Elinor;
115:079,34[A  ]| "but of their engagement I do."
115:079,35[D  ]| "I am perfectly satisfied of both."
115:079,36[A  ]| "Yet not a syllable has been said to you on the
115:079,37[A  ]| subject, by either of them."
115:079,38[D  ]| "I have not wanted syllables where actions have
115:080,01[D  ]| spoken so plainly.  Has not his behaviour to Marianne
115:080,02[D  ]| and to all of us, for at least the last fortnight, declared
115:080,03[D  ]| that he loved and considered her as his future wife,
115:080,04[D  ]| and that he felt for us the attachment of the nearest
115:080,05[D  ]| relation?  Have we not perfectly understood each other?
115:080,06[D  ]| Has not my consent been daily asked by his looks, his
115:080,07[D  ]| manner, his attentive and affectionate respect?  My
115:080,08[D  ]| Elinor, is it possible to doubt their engagement?  How
115:080,09[D  ]| could such a thought occur to you?  How is it to be
115:080,10[D  ]| supposed that Willoughby, persuaded as he must be
115:080,11[D  ]| of your sister's love, should leave her, and leave her
115:080,12[D  ]| perhaps for months, without telling her of his affection;
115:080,13[D  ]| ~~ that they should part without a mutual exchange
115:080,14[D  ]| of confidence?"
115:080,15[A  ]| "I confess,"
115:080,15['  ]| replied Elinor,
115:080,15[A  ]| "that every circumstance
115:080,16[A  ]| except \one\ is in favour of their engagement; but that
115:080,17[A  ]| \one\ is the total silence of both on the subject, and with
115:080,18[A  ]| me it almost outweighs every other."
115:080,19[D  ]| "How strange this is!  You must think wretchedly
115:080,20[D  ]| indeed of Willoughby, if after all that has openly passed
115:080,21[D  ]| between them, you can doubt the nature of the terms
115:080,22[D  ]| on which they are together.  Has he been acting a part
115:080,23[D  ]| in his behaviour to your sister all this time?  Do you
115:080,24[D  ]| suppose him really indifferent to her?"
115:080,25[A  ]| "No, I cannot think that.  He must and does love
115:080,26[A  ]| her I am sure."
115:080,27[D  ]| "But with a strange kind of tenderness, if he can
115:080,28[D  ]| leave her with such indifference, such carelessness of
115:080,29[D  ]| the future, as you attribute to him."
115:080,30[A  ]| "You must remember, my dear mother, that I have
115:080,31[A  ]| never considered this matter as certain.  I have had my
115:080,32[A  ]| doubts, I confess; but they are fainter than they were,
115:080,33[A  ]| and they may soon be entirely done away.  If we find
115:080,34[A  ]| they correspond, every fear of mine will be removed."
115:080,35[D  ]| "A mighty concession indeed!  If you were to see
115:080,36[D  ]| them at the altar, you would suppose they were going
115:080,37[D  ]| to be married.  Ungracious girl!  But \I\ require no such
115:080,38[D  ]| proof.  Nothing in my opinion has ever passed to justify
115:081,01[D  ]| doubt; no secrecy has been attempted; all has been
115:081,02[D  ]| uniformly open and unreserved.  You cannot doubt
115:081,03[D  ]| your sister's wishes.  It must be Willoughby therefore
115:081,04[D  ]| whom you suspect.  But why?  Is he not a man of
115:081,05[D  ]| honour and feeling?  Has there been any inconsistency
115:081,06[D  ]| on his side to create alarm?  can he be deceitful?"
115:081,07[A  ]| "I hope not, I believe not,"
115:081,07['  ]| cried Elinor.
115:081,07[A  ]| "I love
115:081,08[A  ]| Willoughby, sincerely love him; and suspicion of his
115:081,09[A  ]| integrity cannot be more painful to yourself than to
115:081,10[A  ]| me.  It has been involuntary, and I will not encourage
115:081,11[A  ]| it.  I was startled, I confess, by the alteration in his
115:081,12[A  ]| manners this morning; ~~ he did not speak like himself,
115:081,13[A  ]| and did not return your kindness with any cordiality.
115:081,14[A  ]| But all this may be explained by such a situation of
115:081,15[A  ]| his affairs as you have supposed.  He had just parted
115:081,16[A  ]| from my sister, had seen her leave him in the greatest
115:081,17[A  ]| affliction; and if he felt obliged, from a fear of offending
115:081,18[A  ]| Mrs%*Smith, to resist the temptation of returning here
115:081,19[A  ]| soon, and yet aware that by declining your invitation,
115:081,20[A  ]| by saying that he was going away for some time, he
115:081,21[A  ]| should seem to act an ungenerous, a suspicious part by
115:081,22[A  ]| our family, he might well be embarrassed and disturbed.
115:081,23[A  ]| In such a case, a plain and open avowal of his difficulties
115:081,24[A  ]| would have been more to his honour I think, as well as
115:081,25[A  ]| more consistent with his general character; ~~ but I will
115:081,26[A  ]| not raise objections against any*one's conduct on so
115:081,27[A  ]| illiberal a foundation, as a difference in judgment from
115:081,28[A  ]| myself, or a deviation from what I may think right
115:081,29[A  ]| and consistent."
115:081,30[D  ]| "You speak very properly.  Willoughby certainly
115:081,31[D  ]| does not deserve to be suspected.  Though \we\ have not
115:081,32[D  ]| known him long, he is no stranger in this part of the
115:081,33[D  ]| world; and who has ever spoken to his disadvantage?
115:081,34[D  ]| Had he been in a situation to act independently and
115:081,35[D  ]| marry immediately, it might have been odd that he
115:081,36[D  ]| should leave us without acknowledging every*thing to
115:081,37[D  ]| me at once:  but this is not the case.  It is an engagement
115:081,38[D  ]| in some respects not prosperously begun, for their
115:082,01[D  ]| marriage must be at a very uncertain distance; and
115:082,02[D  ]| even secrecy, as far as it can be observed, may now be
115:082,03[D  ]| very advisable."
115:082,04['  ]| They were interrupted by the entrance of Margaret;
115:082,05['  ]| and Elinor was then at liberty to think over the representations
115:082,06['  ]| of her mother, to acknowledge the probability
115:082,07['  ]| of many, and hope for the justice of all.
115:082,08['  ]| They saw nothing of Marianne till dinner time, when
115:082,09['  ]| she entered the room and took her place at the table
115:082,10['  ]| without saying a word.  Her eyes were red and swollen;
115:082,11['  ]| and it seemed as if her tears were even then restrained
115:082,12['  ]| with difficulty.  She avoided the looks of them all,
115:082,13['  ]| could neither eat nor speak, and after some time, on
115:082,14['  ]| her mother's silently pressing her hand with tender
115:082,15['  ]| compassion, her small degree of fortitude was quite
115:082,16['  ]| overcome, she burst into tears and left the room.
115:082,17['  ]| This violent oppression of spirits continued the whole
115:082,18['  ]| evening.  She was without any power, because she was
115:082,19['  ]| without any desire of command over herself.  The
115:082,20['  ]| slightest mention of any*thing relative to Willoughby
115:082,21['  ]| overpowered her in an instant; and though her family
115:082,22['  ]| were most anxiously attentive to her comfort, it was
115:082,23['  ]| impossible for them, if they spoke at all, to keep clear
115:082,24['  ]| of every subject which her feelings connected with him.
116:083,01['  ]| Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable
116:083,02['  ]| had she been able to sleep at all the first night
116:083,03['  ]| after parting from Willoughby.  She would have been
116:083,04['  ]| ashamed to look her family in the face the next morning,
116:083,05['  ]| had she not risen from her bed in more need of repose
116:083,06['  ]| than when she lay down in it.  But the feelings which
116:083,07['  ]| made such composure a disgrace, left her in no danger
116:083,08['  ]| of incurring it.  She was awake the whole night, and she
116:083,09['  ]| wept the greatest part of it.  She got up with an headache,
116:083,10['  ]| was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any
116:083,11['  ]| nourishment; giving pain every moment to her mother
116:083,12['  ]| and sisters, and forbidding all attempt at consolation
116:083,13['  ]| from either.  Her sensibility was potent enough!
116:083,14['  ]| When breakfast was over she walked out by herself,
116:083,15['  ]| and wandered about the village of Allenham, indulging
116:083,16['  ]| the recollection of past enjoyment and crying over the
116:083,17['  ]| present reverse for the chief of the morning.
116:083,18['  ]| The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of
116:083,19['  ]| feeling.  She played over every favourite song that she
116:083,20['  ]| had been used to play to Willoughby, every air in which
116:083,21['  ]| their voices had been oftenest joined, and sat at the
116:083,22['  ]| instrument gazing on every line of music that he had
116:083,23['  ]| written out for her, till her heart was so heavy that no
116:083,24['  ]| farther sadness could be gained; and this nourishment
116:083,25['  ]| of grief was every day applied.  She spent whole hours
116:083,26['  ]| at the pianoforte= alternately singing and crying; her
116:083,27['  ]| voice often totally suspended by her tears.  In books
116:083,28['  ]| too, as well as in music, she courted the misery which
116:083,29['  ]| a contrast betwen the past and present was certain
116:083,30['  ]| of giving.  She read nothing but what they had been
116:083,31['  ]| used to read together.
116:083,32['  ]| Such violence of affliction indeed could not be supported
116:083,33['  ]| for*ever; it sunk within a few days into a calmer
116:084,01['  ]| melancholy; but these employments, to which she daily
116:084,02['  ]| recurred, her solitary walks and silent meditations, still
116:084,03['  ]| produced occasional effusions of sorrow as lively as
116:084,04['  ]| ever.
116:084,05['  ]| No letter from Willoughby came; and none seemed
116:084,06['  ]| expected by Marianne.  Her mother was surprised, and
116:084,07['  ]| Elinor again became uneasy.  But Mrs%*Dashwood
116:084,08['  ]| could find explanations whenever she wanted them,
116:084,09['  ]| which at least satisfied herself.
116:084,10[D  ]| "Remember, Elinor,"
116:084,10['  ]| said she,
116:084,10[D  ]| "how very often
116:084,11[D  ]| Sir*John fetches our letters himself from the post, and
116:084,12[D  ]| carries them to it.  We have already agreed that secrecy
116:084,13[D  ]| may be necessary, and we must acknowledge that it
116:084,14[D  ]| could not be maintained if their correspondence were
116:084,15[D  ]| to pass through Sir*John's hands."
116:084,16['  ]| Elinor could not deny the truth of this, and she tried
116:084,17['  ]| to find in it a motive sufficient for their silence.  But
116:084,18['  ]| there was one method so direct, so simple, and in her
116:084,19['  ]| opinion so eligible of knowing the real state of the affair,
116:084,20['  ]| and of instantly removing all mystery, that she could
116:084,21['  ]| not help suggesting it to her mother.
116:084,22[A  ]| "Why do you not ask Marianne at once,"
116:084,22['  ]| said she,
116:084,23[A  ]| "whether she is or is not engaged to Willoughby?
116:084,24[A  ]| From you, her mother, and so kind, so indulgent
116:084,25[A  ]| a mother, the question could not give offence.  It
116:084,26[A  ]| would be the natural result of your affection for her.
116:084,27[A  ]| She used to be all unreserve, and to you more especially."
116:084,28[D  ]| "I would not ask such a question for the world.
116:084,29[D  ]| Supposing it possible that they are not engaged, what
116:084,30[D  ]| distress would not such an inquiry inflict!  At any rate
116:084,31[D  ]| it would be most ungenerous.  I should never deserve
116:084,32[D  ]| her confidence again, after forcing from her a confession
116:084,33[D  ]| of what is meant at present to be unacknowledged to
116:084,34[D  ]| any*one.  I know Marianne's heart:  I know that she
116:084,35[D  ]| dearly loves me, and that I shall not be the last to whom
116:084,36[D  ]| the affair is made known, when circumstances make the
116:084,37[D  ]| revealment of it eligible.  I would not attempt to force
116:084,38[D  ]| the confidence of any*one; of a child much less; because
116:085,01[D  ]| a sense of duty would prevent the denial which her
116:085,02[D  ]| wishes might direct."
116:085,03['  ]| Elinor thought this generosity overstrained, considering
116:085,04['  ]| her sister's youth, and urged the matter farther,
116:085,05['  ]| but in vain; common sense, common care, common
116:085,06['  ]| prudence, were all sunk in Mrs%*Dashwood's romantic
116:085,07['  ]| delicacy.
116:085,08['  ]| It was several days before Willoughby's name was
116:085,09['  ]| mentioned before Marianne by any of her family;
116:085,10['  ]| Sir*John and Mrs%*Jennings, indeed, were not so nice;
116:085,11['  ]| their witticisms added pain to many a painful hour; ~~
116:085,12['  ]| but one evening, Mrs%*Dashwood, accidentally taking
116:085,13['  ]| up a volume of Shakespeare, exclaimed,
116:085,14[D  ]| "We have never finished Hamlet, Marianne; our
116:085,15[D  ]| dear Willoughby went away before we could get through
116:085,16[D  ]| it.  We will put it by, that when he comes again ~~
116:085,17[D  ]| But it may be months, perhaps, before \that\ happens."
116:085,18[C  ]| "Months!"
116:085,18['  ]| cried Marianne, with strong surprise.
116:085,19[C  ]| "No ~~ nor many weeks."
116:085,20['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood was sorry for what she had said; but
116:085,21['  ]| it gave Elinor pleasure, as it produced a reply from
116:085,22['  ]| Marianne so expressive of confidence in Willoughby
116:085,23['  ]| and knowledge of his intentions.
116:085,24['  ]| One morning, about a week after his leaving the
116:085,25['  ]| country, Marianne was prevailed on to join her sisters
116:085,26['  ]| in their usual walk, instead of wandering away by herself.
116:085,27['  ]| Hitherto she had carefully avoided every companion
116:085,28['  ]| in her rambles.  If her sisters intended to walk
116:085,29['  ]| on the downs, she directly stole away towards the lanes;
116:085,30['  ]| if they talked of the valley, she was as speedy in climbing
116:085,31['  ]| the hills, and could never be found when the others set
116:085,32['  ]| off.  But at length she was secured by the exertions of
116:085,33['  ]| Elinor, who greatly disapproved such continual seclusion.
116:085,34['  ]| They walked along the road through the valley, and
116:085,35['  ]| chiefly in silence, for Marianne's \mind\ could not be
116:085,36['  ]| controuled, and Elinor, satisfied with gaining one point,
116:085,37['  ]| would not then attempt more.  Beyond the entrance
116:085,38['  ]| of the valley, where the country, though still rich, was
116:086,01['  ]| less wild and more open, a long stretch of the road
116:086,02['  ]| which they had travelled on first coming to Barton, lay
116:086,03['  ]| before them; and on reaching that point, they stopped
116:086,04['  ]| to look around them, and examine a prospect which
116:086,05['  ]| formed the distance of their view from the cottage,
116:086,06['  ]| from a spot which they had never happened to reach
116:086,07['  ]| in any of their walks before.
116:086,08['  ]| Amongst the objects in the scene, they soon discovered
116:086,09['  ]| an animated one; it was a man on horseback riding
116:086,10['  ]| towards them.  In a few minutes they could distinguish
116:086,11['  ]| him to be a gentleman; and in a moment afterwards
116:086,12['  ]| Marianne rapturously exclaimed,
116:086,13[C  ]| "It is he; it is indeed; ~~ I know it is!" ~~
116:086,13['  ]| And was
116:086,14['  ]| hastening to meet him, when Elinor cried out,
116:086,15[A  ]| "Indeed, Marianne, I think you are mistaken.  It is
116:086,16[A  ]| not Willoughby.  The person is not tall enough for him,
116:086,17[A  ]| and has not his air."
116:086,18[C  ]| "He has, he has,"
116:086,18['  ]| cried Marianne,
116:086,18[C  ]| "I am sure he has.
116:086,19[C  ]| His air, his coat, his horse.  I knew how soon he would
116:086,20[C  ]| come."
116:086,21['  ]| She walked eagerly on as she spoke; and Elinor, to
116:086,22['  ]| screen Marianne from particularity, as she felt almost
116:086,23['  ]| certain of its not being Willoughby, quickened her pace
116:086,24['  ]| and kept up with her.  They were soon within thirty
116:086,25['  ]| yards of the gentleman.  Marianne looked again; her
116:086,26['  ]| heart sunk within her; and abruptly turning round,
116:086,27['  ]| she was hurrying back, when the voices of both her
116:086,28['  ]| sisters were raised to detain her, a third, almost as well
116:086,29['  ]| known as Willoughby's, joined them in begging her to
116:086,30['  ]| stop, and she turned round with surprise to see and
116:086,31['  ]| welcome Edward*Ferrars.
116:086,32['  ]| He was the only person in the world who could at
116:086,33['  ]| that moment be forgiven for not being Willoughby; the
116:086,34['  ]| only one who could have gained a smile from her; but
116:086,35['  ]| she dispersed her tears to smile on \him\, and in her
116:086,36['  ]| sister's happiness forgot for a time her own disappointment.
116:086,37['  ]|
116:086,38['  ]| He dismounted, and giving his horse to his servant,
116:087,01['  ]| walked back with them to Barton, whither he was
116:087,02['  ]| purposely coming to visit them.
116:087,03['  ]| He was welcomed by them all with great cordiality,
116:087,04['  ]| but especially by Marianne, who shewed more warmth
116:087,05['  ]| of regard in her reception of him than even Elinor
116:087,06['  ]| herself.  To Marianne, indeed, the meeting between
116:087,07['  ]| Edward and her sister was but a continuation of that
116:087,08['  ]| unaccountable coldness which she had often observed
116:087,09['  ]| at Norland in their mutual behaviour.  On Edward's
116:087,10['  ]| side, more particularly, there was a deficiency of all
116:087,11['  ]| that a lover ought to look and say on such an occasion.
116:087,12['  ]| He was confused, seemed scarcely sensible of pleasure
116:087,13['  ]| in seeing them, looked neither rapturous nor gay, said
116:087,14['  ]| little but what was forced from him by questions, and
116:087,15['  ]| distinguished Elinor by no mark of affection.  Marianne
116:087,16['  ]| saw and listened with increasing surprise.  She began
116:087,17['  ]| almost to feel a dislike of Edward; and it ended, as
116:087,18['  ]| every feeling must end with her, by carrying back her
116:087,19['  ]| thoughts to Willoughby, whose manners formed a contrast
116:087,20['  ]| sufficiently striking to those of his brother elect.
116:087,21['  ]| After a short silence which succeeded the first surprise
116:087,22['  ]| and inquiries of meeting, Marianne asked Edward
116:087,22@c   | if
116:087,23@c   | he came directly from London.
116:087,23@b   | No, he had been in
116:087,24@b   | Devonshire a fortnight.
116:087,25[C  ]| "A fortnight!" she repeated, surprised at his being
116:087,26[C  ]| so long in the same county with Elinor without seeing
116:087,27[C  ]| her before.
116:087,28['  ]| He looked rather distressed as he added, that
116:087,28@b   | he had
116:087,29@b   | been staying with some friends near Plymouth.
116:087,30[A  ]| "Have you been lately in Sussex?"
116:087,30['  ]| said Elinor.
116:087,31[B  ]| "I was at Norland about a month ago."
116:087,32[C  ]| "And how does dear, dear Norland look?"
116:087,32['  ]| cried
116:087,33['  ]| Marianne.
116:087,34[A  ]| "Dear, dear Norland,"
116:087,34['  ]| said Elinor,
116:087,34[A  ]| "probably looks
116:087,35[A  ]| much as it always does at this time of year.  The woods
116:087,36[A  ]| and walks thickly covered with dead leaves."
116:087,37[C  ]| "Oh!"
116:087,37['  ]| cried Marianne,
116:087,37[C  ]| "with what transporting
116:087,38[C  ]| sensations have I formerly seen them fall!  How have
116:088,01[C  ]| I delighted, as I walked, to see them driven in showers
116:088,02[C  ]| about me by the wind!  What feelings have they, the
116:088,03[C  ]| season, the air altogether inspired!  Now there is no*one
116:088,04[C  ]| to regard them.  They are seen only as a nuisance,
116:088,05[C  ]| swept hastily off, and driven as much as possible from
116:088,06[C  ]| the sight."
116:088,07[A  ]| "It is not every*one,"
116:088,07['  ]| said Elinor,
116:088,07[A  ]| "who has your
116:088,08[A  ]| passion for dead leaves."
116:088,09[C  ]| "No; my feelings are not often shared, not often
116:088,10[C  ]| understood.  But \sometimes\ they are."  ~~
116:088,10['  ]| As she said
116:088,11['  ]| this, she sunk into a reverie for a few moments; ~~ but
116:088,12['  ]| rousing herself again,
116:088,12[C  ]| "Now, Edward,"
116:088,12['  ]| said she, calling
116:088,13['  ]| his attention to the prospect,
116:088,13[C  ]| "here is Barton*valley.
116:088,14[C  ]| Look up it, and be tranquil if you can.  Look at those
116:088,15[C  ]| hills!  Did you ever see their equals?  To the left is
116:088,16[C  ]| Barton*park, amongst those woods and plantations.
116:088,17[C  ]| You may see one end of the house.  And there, beneath
116:088,18[C  ]| that farthest hill, which rises with such grandeur, is
116:088,19[C  ]| our cottage."
116:088,20[B  ]| "It is a beautiful country,"
116:088,20['  ]| he replied;
116:088,20[B  ]| "but these
116:088,21[B  ]| bottoms must be dirty in winter."
116:088,22[C  ]| "How can you think of dirt, with such objects before
116:088,23[C  ]| you?"
116:088,24[B  ]| "Because,"
116:088,24['  ]| replied he, smiling,
116:088,24[B  ]| "among the rest of
116:088,25[B  ]| the objects before me, I see a very dirty lane."
116:088,26[C  ]| "How strange!"
116:088,26['  ]| said Marianne to herself as she
116:088,27['  ]| walked on.
116:088,28[B  ]| "Have you an agreeable neighbourhood here?  Are
116:088,29[B  ]| the Middletons pleasant people?"
116:088,30[C  ]| "No, not at all,"
116:088,30['  ]| answered Marianne,
116:088,30[C  ]| "we could not
116:088,31[C  ]| be more unfortunately situated."
116:088,32[A  ]| "Marianne,"
116:088,32['  ]| cried her sister,
116:088,32[A  ]| "how can you say so?
116:088,33[A  ]| How can you be so unjust?  They are a very respectable
116:088,34[A  ]| family, Mr%*Ferrars; and towards us have behaved in
116:088,35[A  ]| the friendliest manner.  Have you forgot, Marianne,
116:088,36[A  ]| how many pleasant days we have owed to them?"
116:088,37[C  ]| "No,"
116:088,37['  ]| said Marianne in a low voice,
116:088,37[C  ]| "nor how many
116:088,38[C  ]| painful moments."
116:089,01['  ]| Elinor took no notice of this, and directing her
116:089,02['  ]| attention to their visitor, endeavoured to support something
116:089,03['  ]| like discourse with him by talking of their
116:089,04['  ]| present residence, its conveniences, &c% extorting from
116:089,05['  ]| him occasional questions and remarks.  His coldness
116:089,06['  ]| and reserve mortified her severely; she was vexed and
116:089,07['  ]| half angry; but resolving to regulate her behaviour to
116:089,08['  ]| him by the past rather than the present, she avoided
116:089,09['  ]| every appearance of resentment or displeasure, and
116:089,10['  ]| treated him as she thought he ought to be treated from
116:089,11['  ]| the family connection.
117:090,01['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood was surprised only for a moment at
117:090,02['  ]| seeing him; for his coming to Barton was, in her opinion,
117:090,03['  ]| of all things the most natural.  Her joy and expressions
117:090,04['  ]| of regard long outlived her wonder.  He received the
117:090,05['  ]| kindest welcome from her; and shyness, coldness, reserve
117:090,06['  ]| could not stand against such a reception.  They
117:090,07['  ]| had begun to fail him before he entered the house, and
117:090,08['  ]| they were quite overcome by the captivating manners
117:090,09['  ]| of Mrs%*Dashwood.  Indeed a man could not very well
117:090,10['  ]| be in love with either of her daughters, without extending
117:090,11['  ]| the passion to her; and Elinor had the satisfaction
117:090,12['  ]| of seeing him soon become more like himself.
117:090,12@a   | His
117:090,13@a   | affections seemed to reanimate towards them all, and
117:090,14@a   | his interest in their welfare again became perceptible.
117:090,15@a   | He was not in spirits however; he praised their house,
117:090,16@a   | admired its prospect, was attentive, and kind; but still
117:090,17@a   | he was not in spirits.
117:090,17['  ]| The whole family perceived it,
117:090,18['  ]| and Mrs%*Dashwood, attributing it to some want of
117:090,19['  ]| liberality in his mother, sat down to table indignant
117:090,20['  ]| against all selfish parents.
117:090,21[D  ]| "What are Mrs%*Ferrars's views for you at present,
117:090,22[D  ]| Edward?"
117:090,22['  ]| said she, when dinner was over and they
117:090,23['  ]| had drawn round the fire;
117:090,23[D  ]| "are you still to be a great
117:090,24[D  ]| orator in spite of yourself?"
117:090,25[B  ]| "No.  I hope my mother is now convinced that I
117:090,26[B  ]| have no more talents than inclination for a public
117:090,27[B  ]| life!"
117:090,28[D  ]| "But how is your fame to be established? for famous
117:090,29[D  ]| you must be to satisfy all your family; and with no
117:090,30[D  ]| inclination for expense, no affection for strangers, no
117:090,31[D  ]| profession, and no assurance, you may find it a difficult
117:090,32[D  ]| matter."
117:090,33[B  ]| "I shall not attempt it.  I have no wish to be distinguished;
117:091,01[B  ]| and I have every reason to hope I never
117:091,02[B  ]| shall.  Thank Heaven!  I cannot be forced into genius
117:091,03[B  ]| and eloquence."
117:091,04[D  ]| "You have no ambition, I well know.  Your wishes
117:091,05[D  ]| are all moderate."
117:091,06[B  ]| "As moderate as those of the rest of the world,
117:091,07[B  ]| I believe.  I wish as well as every*body else to be
117:091,08[B  ]| perfectly happy; but like every*body else it must be
117:091,09[B  ]| in my own way.  Greatness will not make me so."
117:091,10[C  ]| "Strange if it would!"
117:091,10['  ]| cried Marianne.
117:091,10[C  ]| "What
117:091,11[C  ]| have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?"
117:091,12[A  ]| "Grandeur has but little,"
117:091,12['  ]| said Elinor,
117:091,12[A  ]| "but wealth
117:091,13[A  ]| has much to do with it."
117:091,14[C  ]| "Elinor, for shame!"
117:091,14['  ]| said Marianne;
117:091,14[C  ]| "money can
117:091,15[C  ]| only give happiness where there is nothing else to give
117:091,16[C  ]| it.  Beyond a competence, it can afford no real satisfaction,
117:091,17[C  ]| as far as mere self is concerned."
117:091,18[A  ]| "Perhaps,"
117:091,18['  ]| said Elinor, smiling,
117:091,18[A  ]| "we may come to
117:091,19[A  ]| the same point.  \Your\ competence and \my\ wealth are
117:091,20[A  ]| very much alike, I dare say; and without them, as
117:091,21[A  ]| the world goes now, we shall both agree that every kind
117:091,22[A  ]| of external comfort must be wanting.  Your ideas are
117:091,23[A  ]| only more noble than mine.  Come, what is your
117:091,24[A  ]| competence?"
117:091,25[C  ]| "About eighteen hundred or two thousand a-year;
117:091,26[C  ]| not more than \that\."
117:091,27['  ]| Elinor laughed.
117:091,27[A  ]| "\Two\ thousand a-year!  \One\ is
117:091,28[A  ]| my wealth!  I guessed how it would end."
117:091,29[C  ]| "And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate
117:091,30[C  ]| income,"
117:091,30['  ]| said Marianne.
117:091,30[C  ]| "A family cannot well be
117:091,31[C  ]| maintained on a smaller.  I am sure I am not extravagant
117:091,32[C  ]| in my demands.  A proper establishment of servants,
117:091,33[C  ]| a carriage, perhaps two, and hunters, cannot be supported
117:091,34[C  ]| on less."
117:091,35['  ]| Elinor smiled again, to hear her sister describing so
117:091,36['  ]| accurately their future expenses at Combe*Magna.
117:091,37[B  ]| "Hunters!"
117:091,37['  ]| repeated Edward ~~
117:091,37[B  ]| "But why must
117:091,38[B  ]| you have hunters?  Every*body does not hunt."
117:092,01['  ]| Marianne coloured as she replied,
117:092,01[C  ]| "But most people
117:092,02[C  ]| do."
117:092,03[E  ]| "I wish,"
117:092,03['  ]| said Margaret, striking out a novel thought,
117:092,04[E  ]| "that somebody would give us all a large fortune
117:092,05[E  ]| apiece!"
117:092,06[C  ]| "Oh that they would!"
117:092,06['  ]| cried Marianne, her eyes
117:092,07['  ]| sparkling with animation, and her cheeks glowing with
117:092,08['  ]| the delight of such imaginary happiness.
117:092,09[A  ]| "We are all unanimous in that wish, I suppose,"
117:092,10['  ]| said Elinor,
117:092,10[A  ]| "in spite of the insufficiency of wealth."
117:092,11[E  ]| "Oh dear!"
117:092,11['  ]| cried Margaret,
117:092,11[E  ]| "how happy I should
117:092,12[E  ]| be!  I wonder what I should do with it!"
117:092,13['  ]| Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that point.
117:092,14[D  ]| "I should be puzzled to spend a large fortune myself,"
117:092,15['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood,
117:092,16[D  ]| "if my children were all to be
117:092,17[D  ]| rich without my help."
117:092,17[A  ]| "You must begin your improvements on this house,"
117:092,18['  ]| observed Elinor,
117:092,18[A  ]| "and your difficulties will soon vanish."
117:092,19[B  ]| "What magnificent orders would travel from this
117:092,20[B  ]| family to London,"
117:092,20['  ]| said Edward,
117:092,20[B  ]| "in such an event!
117:092,21[B  ]| What a happy day for booksellers, music-sellers, and
117:092,22[B  ]| print-shops!  You, Miss*Dashwood, would give a general
117:092,23[B  ]| commission for every new print of merit to be sent
117:092,24[B  ]| you ~~ and as for Marianne, I know her greatness of
117:092,25[B  ]| soul, there would not be music enough in London to
117:092,26[B  ]| content her.  And books! ~~ Thomson, Cowper, Scott ~~
117:092,27[B  ]| she would buy them all over and over again; she
117:092,28[B  ]| would buy up every copy, I believe, to prevent their
117:092,29[B  ]| falling into unworthy hands; and she would have every
117:092,30[B  ]| book that tells her how to admire an old twisted tree.
117:092,31[B  ]| Should not you, Marianne?  Forgive me, if I am very
117:092,32[B  ]| saucy.  But I was willing to shew you that I had not
117:092,33[B  ]| forgot our old disputes."
117:092,34[C  ]| "I love to be reminded of the past, Edward ~~ whether
117:092,35[C  ]| it be melancholy or gay, I love to recall it ~~ and you will
117:092,36[C  ]| never offend me by talking of former times.  You are
117:092,37[C  ]| very right in supposing how my money would be spent
117:092,38[C  ]| ~~ some of it, at least ~~ my loose cash would certainly
117:093,01[C  ]| be employed in improving my collection of music and
117:093,02[C  ]| books."
117:093,03[B  ]| "And the bulk of your fortune would be laid out in
117:093,04[B  ]| annuities on the authors or their heirs."
117:093,05[C  ]| "No, Edward, I should have something else to do
117:093,06[C  ]| with it."
117:093,07[B  ]| "Perhaps then you would bestow it as a reward on
117:093,08[B  ]| that person who wrote the ablest defence of your
117:093,09[B  ]| favorite maxim, that no*one can ever be in love more
117:093,10[B  ]| than once in their life ~~ for your opinion on that point
117:093,11[B  ]| is unchanged, I presume?"
117:093,12[C  ]| "Undoubtedly.  At my time of life opinions are
117:093,13[C  ]| tolerably fixed.  It is not likely that I should now see
117:093,14[C  ]| or hear anything to change them."
117:093,15[A  ]| "Marianne is as stedfast as ever, you see,"
117:093,15['  ]| said Elinor,
117:093,16[A  ]| "she is not at all altered."
117:093,17[B  ]| "She is only grown a little more grave than she was."
117:093,18[C  ]| "Nay, Edward,"
117:093,18['  ]| said Marianne,
117:093,18[C  ]| "\you\ need not
117:093,19[C  ]| reproach me.  You are not very gay yourself."
117:093,20[B  ]| "Why should you think so!"
117:093,20['  ]| replied he, with a sigh.
117:093,21[B  ]| "But gaiety never was a part of \my\ character."
117:093,22[A  ]| "Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's,"
117:093,22['  ]| said Elinor;
117:093,23[A  ]| "I should hardly call her a lively girl ~~ she is very
117:093,24[A  ]| earnest, very eager in all she does ~~ sometimes talks
117:093,25[A  ]| a great deal and always with animation ~~ but she is
117:093,26[A  ]| not often really merry."
117:093,27[B  ]| "I believe you are right,"
117:093,27['  ]| he replied,
117:093,27[B  ]| "and yet
117:093,28[B  ]| I have always set her down as a lively girl."
117:093,29[A  ]| "I have frequently detected myself in such kind of
117:093,30[A  ]| mistakes,"
117:093,30['  ]| said Elinor,
117:093,30[A  ]| "in a total misapprehension of
117:093,31[A  ]| character in some point or other:  fancying people so
117:093,32[A  ]| much more gay or grave, or ingenious or stupid than
117:093,33[A  ]| they really are, and I can hardly tell why, or in what
117:093,34[A  ]| the deception originated.  Sometimes one is guided by
117:093,35[A  ]| what they say of themselves, and very frequently by
117:093,36[A  ]| what other people say of them, without giving oneself
117:093,37[A  ]| time to deliberate and judge."
117:093,38[C  ]| "But I thought it was right, Elinor,"
117:093,38['  ]| said Marianne,
117:094,01[C  ]| "to be guided wholly by the opinion of other people.
117:094,02[C  ]| I thought our judgments were given us merely to be
117:094,03[C  ]| subservient to those of our neighbours.  This has always
117:094,04[C  ]| been your doctrine, I am sure."
117:094,05[A  ]| "No, Marianne, never.  My doctrine has never aimed
117:094,06[A  ]| at the subjection of the understanding.  All I have
117:094,07[A  ]| ever attempted to influence has been the behaviour.
117:094,08[A  ]| You must not confound my meaning.  I am guilty,
117:094,09[A  ]| I confess, of having often wished you to treat our
117:094,10[A  ]| acquaintance in general with greater attention; but
117:094,11[A  ]| when have I advised you to adopt their sentiments or
117:094,12[A  ]| conform to their judgment in serious matters?"
117:094,13[B  ]| "You have not been able then to bring your sister
117:094,14[B  ]| over to your plan of general civility,"
117:094,14['  ]| said Edward to
117:094,15['  ]| Elinor.
117:094,15[B  ]| "Do you gain no ground?"
117:094,16[A  ]| "Quite the contrary,"
117:094,16['  ]| replied Elinor, looking expressively
117:094,17['  ]| at Marianne.
117:094,18[B  ]| "My judgment,"
117:094,18['  ]| he returned,
117:094,18[B  ]| "is all on your side
117:094,19[B  ]| of the question; but I am afraid my practice is much
117:094,20[B  ]| more on your sister's.  I never wish to offend, but I am
117:094,21[B  ]| so foolishly shy, that I often seem negligent, when I am
117:094,22[B  ]| only kept back by my natural aukwardness.  I have
117:094,23[B  ]| frequently thought that I must have been intended by
117:094,24[B  ]| nature to be fond of low company, I am so little at my
117:094,25[B  ]| ease among strangers of gentility!"
117:094,26[A  ]| "Marianne has not shyness to excuse any inattention
117:094,27[A  ]| of hers,"
117:094,27['  ]| said Elinor.
117:094,28[B  ]| "She knows her own worth too well for false shame,"
117:094,29['  ]| replied Edward.
117:094,29[B  ]| "Shyness is only the effect of a sense
117:094,30[B  ]| of inferiority in some way or other.  If I could persuade
117:094,31[B  ]| myself that my manners were perfectly easy and graceful,
117:094,32[B  ]| I should not be shy."
117:094,33[C  ]| "But you would still be reserved,"
117:094,33['  ]| said Marianne,
117:094,34[C  ]| "and that is worse."
117:094,35['  ]| Edward stared ~~
117:094,35[B  ]| "Reserved!  Am I reserved, Marianne?"
117:094,36[B  ]|
117:094,37[C  ]| "Yes, very."
117:094,38[B  ]| "I do not understand you,"
117:094,38['  ]| replied he, colouring.
117:095,01[B  ]| "Reserved! ~~ how, in what manner?  What am I to
117:095,02[B  ]| tell you?  What can you suppose?"
117:095,03['  ]| Elinor looked surprised at his emotion, but trying
117:095,04['  ]| to laugh off the subject, she said to him,
117:095,04[A  ]| "Do not you
117:095,05[A  ]| know my sister well enough to understand what she
117:095,06[A  ]| means?  Do not you know that she calls every*one
117:095,07[A  ]| reserved who does not talk as fast, and admire what she
117:095,08[A  ]| admires as rapturously as herself?"
117:095,09['  ]| Edward made no answer.  His gravity and thoughtfulness
117:095,10['  ]| returned on him in their fullest extent ~~ and he
117:095,11['  ]| sat for some time silent and dull.
118:096,01['  ]| Elinor saw, with great uneasiness, the low spirits
118:096,02['  ]| of her friend.  His visit afforded her but a very partial
118:096,03['  ]| satisfaction, while his own enjoyment in it appeared
118:096,04['  ]| so imperfect.  It was evident that he was unhappy;
118:096,05['  ]| she wished it were equally evident that he still distinguished
118:096,06['  ]| her by the same affection which once she had
118:096,07['  ]| felt no doubt of inspiring; but hitherto the continuance
118:096,08['  ]| of his preference seemed very uncertain; and the
118:096,09['  ]| reservedness of his manner towards her contradicted
118:096,10['  ]| one moment what a more animated look had intimated
118:096,11['  ]| the preceding one.
118:096,12['  ]| He joined her and Marianne in the breakfast-room
118:096,13['  ]| the next morning before the others were down; and
118:096,14['  ]| Marianne, who was always eager to promote their
118:096,15['  ]| happiness as far as she could, soon left them to themselves.
118:096,16['  ]| But before she was half way up*stairs she
118:096,17['  ]| heard the parlour door open, and, turning round, was
118:096,18['  ]| astonished to see Edward himself come out.
118:096,19[B  ]| "I am going into the village to see my horses,"
118:096,19['  ]| said
118:096,20['  ]| he,
118:096,20[B  ]| "as you are not yet ready for breakfast; I shall be
118:096,21[B  ]| back again presently."
118:096,22['  ]| ~~ ~~ ~~
118:096,22['  ]| Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of
118:096,23['  ]| the surrounding country; in his walk to the village, he
118:096,24['  ]| had seen many parts of the valley to advantage; and
118:096,25['  ]| the village itself, in a much higher situation than the
118:096,26['  ]| cottage, afforded a general view of the whole, which had
118:096,27['  ]| exceedingly pleased him.  This was a subject which
118:096,28['  ]| ensured Marianne's attention, and she was beginning
118:096,29['  ]| to describe her own admiration of these scenes, and to
118:096,30['  ]| question him more minutely on the objects that had
118:096,31['  ]| particularly struck him, when Edward interrupted her
118:096,32['  ]| by saying,
118:096,32[B  ]| "You must not inquire too far, Marianne ~~
118:096,33[B  ]| remember I have no knowledge in the picturesque, and
118:097,01[B  ]| I shall offend you by my ignorance and want of taste
118:097,02[B  ]| if we come to particulars.  I shall call hills steep, which
118:097,03[B  ]| ought to be bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, which
118:097,04[B  ]| ought to be irregular and rugged; and distant objects
118:097,05[B  ]| out of sight, which ought only to be indistinct through
118:097,06[B  ]| the soft medium of a hazy atmosphere.  You must be
118:097,07[B  ]| satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly give.
118:097,08[B  ]| I call it a very fine country ~~ the hills are steep, the woods
118:097,09[B  ]| seem full of fine timber, and the valley looks comfortable
118:097,10[B  ]| and snug ~~ with rich meadows and several neat farm
118:097,11[B  ]| houses scattered here and there.  It exactly answers
118:097,12[B  ]| my idea of a fine country, because it unites beauty
118:097,13[B  ]| with utility ~~ and I dare say it is a picturesque one too,
118:097,14[B  ]| because you admire it; I can easily believe it to be full
118:097,15[B  ]| of rocks and promontories, grey moss and brush wood,
118:097,16[B  ]| but these are all lost on me.  I know nothing of the
118:097,17[B  ]| picturesque."
118:097,18[C  ]| "I am afraid it is but too true,"
118:097,18['  ]| said Marianne;
118:097,19[C  ]| "but why should you boast of it?"
118:097,20[A  ]| "I suspect,"
118:097,20['  ]| said Elinor,
118:097,20[A  ]| "that to avoid one kind of
118:097,21[A  ]| affectation, Edward here falls into another.  Because he
118:097,22[A  ]| believes many people pretend to more admiration of
118:097,23[A  ]| the beauties of nature than they really feel, and is
118:097,24[A  ]| disgusted with such pretensions, he affects greater
118:097,25[A  ]| indifference and less discrimination in viewing them
118:097,26[A  ]| himself than he possesses.  He is fastidious and will
118:097,27[A  ]| have an affectation of his own."
118:097,28[C  ]| "It is very true,"
118:097,28['  ]| said Marianne,
118:097,28[C  ]| "that admiration
118:097,29[C  ]| of landscape scenery is become a mere jargon.  Every*body
118:097,30[C  ]| pretends to feel and tries to describe with the
118:097,31[C  ]| taste and elegance of him who first defined what picturesque
118:097,32[C  ]| beauty was.  I detest jargon of every kind,
118:097,33[C  ]| and sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself,
118:097,34[C  ]| because I could find no language to describe them in but
118:097,35[C  ]| what was worn and hackneyed out of all sense and
118:097,36[C  ]| meaning."
118:097,37[B  ]| "I am convinced,"
118:097,37['  ]| said Edward,
118:097,37[B  ]| "that you really
118:097,38[B  ]| feel all the delight in a fine prospect which you profess
118:098,01[B  ]| to feel.  But, in return, your sister must allow me to
118:098,02[B  ]| feel no more than I profess.  I like a fine prospect, but
118:098,03[B  ]| not on picturesque principles.  I do not like crooked,
118:098,04[B  ]| twisted, blasted trees.  I admire them much more if
118:098,05[B  ]| they are tall, straight and flourishing.  I do not like
118:098,06[B  ]| ruined, tattered cottages.  I am not fond of nettles, or
118:098,07[B  ]| thistles, or heath blossoms.  I have more pleasure in
118:098,08[B  ]| a snug farm-house than a watch-tower ~~ and a troop of
118:098,09[B  ]| tidy, happy villagers please me better than the finest
118:098,10[B  ]| banditti in the world."
118:098,11['  ]| Marianne looked with amazement at Edward, with
118:098,12['  ]| compassion at her sister.  Elinor only laughed.
118:098,13['  ]| The subject was continued no farther; and Marianne
118:098,14['  ]| remained thoughtfully silent, till a new object suddenly
118:098,15['  ]| engaged her attention.  She was sitting by Edward,
118:098,16['  ]| and in taking his tea from Mrs%*Dashwood, his hand
118:098,17['  ]| passed so directly before her, as to make a ring, with
118:098,18['  ]| a plait of hair in the centre, very conspicuous on one of
118:098,19['  ]| his fingers.
118:098,20[C  ]| "I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward,"
118:098,20['  ]| she
118:098,21['  ]| cried.
118:098,21[C  ]| "Is that Fanny's hair?  I remember her
118:098,22[C  ]| promising to give you some.  But I should have thought
118:098,23[C  ]| her hair had been darker."
118:098,24['  ]| Marianne spoke inconsiderately what she really felt ~~
118:098,25['  ]| but when she saw how much she had pained Edward,
118:098,26['  ]| her own vexation at her want of thought could not be
118:098,27['  ]| surpassed by his.  He coloured very deeply, and giving
118:098,28['  ]| a momentary glance at Elinor, replied,
118:098,28[B  ]| "Yes; it is
118:098,29[B  ]| my sister's hair.  The setting always casts a different
118:098,30[B  ]| shade on it you know."
118:098,31['  ]| Elinor had met his eye, and looked conscious likewise.
118:098,32['  ]| That the hair was her own, she instantaneously felt as
118:098,33['  ]| well satisfied as Marianne; the only difference in their
118:098,34['  ]| conclusions was, that what Marianne considered as a
118:098,35['  ]| free gift from her sister, Elinor was conscious must have
118:098,36['  ]| been procured by some theft or contrivance unknown to
118:098,37['  ]| herself.  She was not in a humour, however, to regard
118:098,38['  ]| it as an affront, and affecting to take no notice of what
118:099,01['  ]| passed, by instantly talking of something else, she
118:099,02['  ]| internally resolved henceforward to catch every opportunity
118:099,03['  ]| of eyeing the hair and of satisfying herself,
118:099,04['  ]| beyond all doubt, that it was exactly the shade of her
118:099,05['  ]| own.
118:099,06['  ]| Edward's embarrassment lasted some time, and it
118:099,07['  ]| ended in an absence of mind still more settled.  He
118:099,08['  ]| was particularly grave the whole morning.  Marianne
118:099,09['  ]| severely censured herself for what she had said; but
118:099,10['  ]| her own forgiveness might have been more speedy,
118:099,11['  ]| had she known how little offence it had given her sister.
118:099,12['  ]| Before the middle of the day, they were visited by
118:099,13['  ]| Sir*John and Mrs%*Jennings, who, having heard of the
118:099,14['  ]| arrival of a gentleman at the cottage, came to take
118:099,15['  ]| a survey of the guest.  With the assistance of his mother-in-law,
118:099,16['  ]| Sir*John was not long in discovering that the
118:099,17['  ]| name of Ferrars began with an F% and this prepared
118:099,18['  ]| a future mine of raillery against the devoted Elinor,
118:099,19['  ]| which nothing but the newness of their acquaintance
118:099,20['  ]| with Edward could have prevented from being immediately
118:099,21['  ]| sprung.  But, as it was, she only learned from some
118:099,22['  ]| very significant looks, how far their penetration, founded
118:099,23['  ]| on Margaret's instructions, extended.
118:099,24['  ]| Sir*John never came to the Dashwoods without
118:099,25['  ]| either inviting them to dine at the park the next day,
118:099,26['  ]| or to drink tea with them that evening.  On the present
118:099,27['  ]| occasion, for the better entertainment of their visitor,
118:099,28['  ]| towards whose amusement he felt himself bound to
118:099,29['  ]| contribute, he wished to engage them for both.
118:099,30[L  ]| "You \must\ drink tea with us to*night,"
118:099,30['  ]| said he,
118:099,30[L  ]| "for
118:099,31[L  ]| we shall be quite alone ~~ and to-morrow you must
118:099,32[L  ]| absolutely dine with us, for we shall be a large party."
118:099,33['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings enforced the necessity.
118:099,33[K  ]| "And who
118:099,34[K  ]| knows but you may raise a dance,"
118:099,34['  ]| said she.
118:099,34[K  ]| "And
118:099,35[K  ]| that will tempt \you\, Miss*Marianne."
118:099,36[C  ]| "A dance!"
118:099,36['  ]| cried Marianne.
118:099,36[C  ]| "Impossible!  Who
118:099,37[C  ]| is to dance?"
118:099,38[K  ]| "Who! why yourselves, and the Careys, and
118:100,01[K  ]| Whitakers to be sure. ~~ What! you thought nobody
118:100,02[K  ]| could dance because a certain person that shall be
118:100,03[K  ]| nameless is gone!"
118:100,04[L  ]| "I wish with all my soul,"
118:100,04['  ]| cried Sir*John,
118:100,04[L  ]| "that
118:100,05[L  ]| Willoughby were among us again."
118:100,06['  ]| This, and Marianne's blushing, gave new suspicions
118:100,07['  ]| to Edward.
118:100,08[B  ]| "And who is Willoughby?"
118:100,08['  ]| said he, in
118:100,09['  ]| a low voice, to Miss*Dashwood, by whom he was sitting.
118:100,10['  ]| She gave him a brief reply.  Marianne's countenance
118:100,11['  ]| was more communicative.  Edward saw enough to
118:100,12['  ]| comprehend, not only the meaning of others, but such
118:100,13['  ]| of Marianne's expressions as had puzzled him before;
118:100,14['  ]| and when their visitors left them, he went immediately
118:100,15['  ]| round to her and said, in a whisper,
118:100,15[B  ]| "I have been
118:100,16[B  ]| guessing.  Shall I tell you my guess?"
118:100,17[C  ]| "What do you mean?"
118:100,18[B  ]| "Shall I tell you?"
118:100,19[C  ]| "Certainly."
118:100,20[B  ]| "Well then; I guess that Mr%*Willoughby hunts."
118:100,21['  ]| Marianne was surprised and confused, yet she could
118:100,22['  ]| not help smiling at the quiet archness of his manner,
118:100,23['  ]| and, after a moment's silence, said,
118:100,24[C  ]| "Oh! Edward! How can you? ~~ But the time will
118:100,25[C  ]| come I hope ~~ I am sure you will like him."
118:100,26[B  ]| "I do not doubt it,"
118:100,26['  ]| replied he, rather astonished
118:100,27['  ]| at her earnestness and warmth; for had he not imagined
118:100,28['  ]| it to be a joke for the good of her acquaintance in general,
118:100,29['  ]| founded only on a something or a nothing between
118:100,30['  ]| Mr%*Willoughby and herself, he would not have ventured
118:100,31['  ]| to mention it.
119:101,01['  ]| Edward remained a week at the cottage; he was
119:101,02['  ]| earnestly pressed by Mrs%*Dashwood to stay longer; but
119:101,03['  ]| as if he were bent only on self-mortification, he seemed
119:101,04['  ]| resolved to be gone when his enjoyment among his
119:101,05['  ]| friends was at the height.  His spirits, during the last
119:101,06['  ]| two or three days, though still very unequal, were greatly
119:101,07['  ]| improved ~~ he grew more and more partial to the house
119:101,08['  ]| and environs ~~ never spoke of going away without
119:101,09['  ]| a sigh ~~ declared
119:101,09@b   | his time to be wholly disengaged ~~
119:101,10@b   | even doubted to what place he should go when he left
119:101,11@b   | them ~~ but still, go he must.  Never had any week
119:101,12@b   | passed so quickly ~~ he could hardly believe it to be gone.
119:101,13['  ]| He said so repeatedly; other things he said too, which
119:101,14['  ]| marked the turn of his feelings and gave the lie to his
119:101,15['  ]| actions.
119:101,15@b   | He had no pleasure at Norland; he detested
119:101,16@b   | being in town; but either to Norland or London, he
119:101,17@b   | must go.  He valued their kindness beyond any*thing,
119:101,18@b   | and his greatest happiness was in being with them.
119:101,18['  ]| Yet
119:101,19['  ]| he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of
119:101,20['  ]| their wishes and his own, and without any restraint
119:101,21['  ]| on his time.
119:101,22['  ]| Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of
119:101,23['  ]| acting to his mother's account; and it was happy for
119:101,24['  ]| her that he had a mother whose character was so
119:101,25['  ]| imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse
119:101,26['  ]| for every*thing strange on the part of her son.  Disappointed,
119:101,27['  ]| however, and vexed as she was, and sometimes
119:101,28['  ]| displeased with his uncertain behaviour to herself,
119:101,29['  ]| she was very well disposed on the whole to regard his
119:101,30['  ]| actions with all the candid allowances and generous
119:101,31['  ]| qualifications, which had been rather more painfully
119:101,32['  ]| extorted from her, for Willoughby's service, by her
119:101,33['  ]| mother.  His want of spirits, of openness, and of
119:102,01['  ]| consistency, were most usually attributed to his want
119:102,02['  ]| of independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs%*Ferrars's
119:102,03['  ]| disposition and designs.
119:102,03@a   | The shortness of
119:102,04@a   | his visit, the steadiness of his purpose in leaving them,
119:102,05@a   | originated in the same fettered inclination, the same
119:102,06@a   | inevitable necessity of temporising with his mother.
119:102,07@a   | The old, well established grievance of duty against will,
119:102,08@a   | parent against child, was the cause of all.
119:102,09['  ]| She would
119:102,09['  ]| have been glad to know when these difficulties were to
119:102,10['  ]| cease, this opposition was to yield, ~~ when Mrs%*Ferrars
119:102,11['  ]| would be reformed, and her son be at liberty to be
119:102,12['  ]| happy.  But from such vain wishes, she was forced to
119:102,13['  ]| turn for comfort to the renewal of her confidence in
119:102,14['  ]| Edward's affection, to the remembrance of every mark
119:102,15['  ]| of regard in look or word which fell from him while at
119:102,16['  ]| Barton, and above all to that flattering proof of it
119:102,17['  ]| which he constantly wore round his finger.
119:102,18[D  ]| "I think, Edward,"
119:102,18['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood, as they
119:102,19['  ]| were at breakfast the last morning,
119:102,19[D  ]| "you would be
119:102,20[D  ]| a happier man if you had any profession to engage
119:102,21[D  ]| your time and give an interest of your plans and actions.
119:102,22[D  ]| Some inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might
119:102,23[D  ]| result from it ~~ you would not be able to give them so
119:102,24[D  ]| much of your time.  But
119:102,24['  ]| (with a smile)
119:102,24[D  ]| you would be
119:102,25[D  ]| materially benefited in one particular at least ~~ you
119:102,26[D  ]| would know where to go when you left them."
119:102,27[B  ]| "I do assure you,"
119:102,27['  ]| he replied,
119:102,27[B  ]| "that I have long
119:102,28[B  ]| thought on this point, as you think now.  It has been,
119:102,29[B  ]| and is, and probably will always be a heavy misfortune
119:102,30[B  ]| to me, that I have had no necessary business to engage
119:102,31[B  ]| me, no profession to give me employment, or afford me
119:102,32[B  ]| any*thing like independence.  But unfortunately my
119:102,33[B  ]| own nicety, and the nicety of my friends, have made me
119:102,34[B  ]| what I am, an idle, helpless being.  We never could
119:102,35[B  ]| agree in our choice of a profession.  I always preferred
119:102,36[B  ]| the church, as I still do.  But that was not smart enough
119:102,37[B  ]| for my family.  They recommended the army.  That
119:102,38[B  ]| was a great deal too smart for me.  The law was allowed
119:103,01[B  ]| to be genteel enough; many young men, who had
119:103,02[B  ]| chambers in the Temple, made a very good appearance
119:103,03[B  ]| in the first circles, and drove about town in very knowing
119:103,04[B  ]| gigs.  But I had no inclination for the law, even in this
119:103,05[B  ]| less abstruse study of it, which my family approved.
119:103,06[B  ]| As for the navy, it had fashion on its side, but I was too
119:103,07[B  ]| old when the subject was first started to enter it ~~ and,
119:103,08[B  ]| at length, as there was no necessity for my having any
119:103,09[B  ]| profession at all, as I might be as dashing and expensive
119:103,10[B  ]| without a red coat on my back as with one, idleness was
119:103,11[B  ]| pronounced on the whole to be the most advantageous
119:103,12[B  ]| and honourable, and a young man of eighteen is not in
119:103,13[B  ]| general so earnestly bent on being busy as to resist the
119:103,14[B  ]| solicitations of his friends to do nothing.  I was therefore
119:103,15[B  ]| entered at Oxford and have been properly idle ever
119:103,16[B  ]| since."
119:103,17[D  ]| "The consequence of which, I suppose, will be,"
119:103,18['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood,
119:103,18[D  ]| "since leisure has not promoted
119:103,19[D  ]| your own happiness, that your sons will be brought up
119:103,20[D  ]| to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and
119:103,21[D  ]| trades as Columella's."
119:103,22[B  ]| "They will be brought up,"
119:103,22['  ]| said he, in a serious
119:103,23['  ]| accent,
119:103,23[B  ]| "to be as unlike myself as is possible.  In feeling,
119:103,24[B  ]| in action, in condition, in every*thing."
119:103,25[D  ]| "Come, come; this is all an effusion of immediate
119:103,26[D  ]| want of spirits, Edward.  You are in a melancholy
119:103,27[D  ]| humour, and fancy that any*one unlike yourself must
119:103,28[D  ]| be happy.  But remember that the pain of parting from
119:103,29[D  ]| friends will be felt by every*body at times, whatever
119:103,30[D  ]| be their education or state.  Know your own happiness.
119:103,31[D  ]| You want nothing but patience ~~ or give it a more
119:103,32[D  ]| fascinating name, call it hope.  Your mother will secure
119:103,33[D  ]| to you, in time, that independence you are so anxious for;
119:103,34[D  ]| it is her duty, and it will, it must ere long become her happiness
119:103,35[D  ]| to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in
119:103,36[D  ]| discontent.  How much may not a few months do?"
119:103,37[B  ]| "I think,"
119:103,37['  ]| replied Edward,
119:103,37[B  ]| "that I may defy many
119:103,38[B  ]| months to produce any good to me."
119:104,01['  ]| This desponding turn of mind, though it could not
119:104,02['  ]| be communicated to Mrs%*Dashwood, gave additional
119:104,03['  ]| pain to them all in the parting, which shortly took place,
119:104,04['  ]| and left an uncomfortable impression on Elinor's feelings
119:104,05['  ]| especially, which required some trouble and time to
119:104,06['  ]| subdue.  But as it was her determination to subdue it,
119:104,07['  ]| and to prevent herself from appearing to suffer more than
119:104,08['  ]| what all her family suffered on his going away, she did
119:104,09['  ]| not adopt the method so judiciously employed by
119:104,10['  ]| Marianne, on a similar occasion, to augment and fix
119:104,11['  ]| her sorrow, by seeking silence, solitude, and idleness.
119:104,12['  ]| Their means were as different as their objects, and equally
119:104,13['  ]| suited to the advancement of each.
119:104,14['  ]| Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he
119:104,15['  ]| was out of the house, busily employed herself the whole
119:104,16['  ]| day, neither sought nor avoided the mention of his
119:104,17['  ]| name, appeared to interest herself almost as much as
119:104,18['  ]| ever in the general concerns of the family, and if, by
119:104,19['  ]| this conduct, she did not lessen her own grief, it was at
119:104,20['  ]| least prevented from unnecessary increase, and her
119:104,21['  ]| mother and sisters were spared much solicitude on her
119:104,22['  ]| account.
119:104,23['  ]| Such behaviour as this, so exactly the reverse of her
119:104,24['  ]| own, appeared no more meritorious to Marianne, than
119:104,25['  ]| her own had seemed faulty to her.  The business of
119:104,26['  ]| self-command she settled very easily; ~~
119:104,26@c   | with strong
119:104,27@c   | affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have
119:104,28@c   | no merit.
119:104,28['  ]| That her sister's affections \were\ calm, she
119:104,29['  ]| dared not deny, though she blushed to acknowledge it;
119:104,30['  ]| and of the strength of her own, she gave a very striking
119:104,31['  ]| proof, by still loving and respecting that sister, in spite
119:104,32['  ]| of this mortifying conviction.
119:104,33['  ]| Without shutting herself up from her family, or leaving
119:104,34['  ]| the house in determined solitude to avoid them, or lying
119:104,35['  ]| awake the whole night to indulge meditation, Elinor
119:104,36['  ]| found every day afforded her leisure enough to think of
119:104,37['  ]| Edward, and of Edward's behaviour, in every possible
119:104,38['  ]| variety which the different state of her spirits at different
119:105,01['  ]| times could produce; ~~ with tenderness, pity, approbation,
119:105,02['  ]| censure, and doubt.  There were moments in
119:105,03['  ]| abundance, when, if not by the absence of her mother
119:105,04['  ]| and sisters, at least by the nature of their employments,
119:105,05['  ]| conversation was forbidden among them, and every
119:105,06['  ]| effect of solitude was produced.  Her mind was inevitably
119:105,07['  ]| at liberty; her thoughts could not be chained elsewhere;
119:105,08['  ]| and the past and the future, on a subject so interesting,
119:105,09['  ]| must be before her, must force her attention, and engross
119:105,10['  ]| her memory, her reflection, and her fancy.
119:105,11['  ]| From a reverie of this kind, as she sat at her drawing-table,
119:105,12['  ]| she was roused one morning, soon after Edward's
119:105,13['  ]| leaving them, by the arrival of company.  She happened
119:105,14['  ]| to be quite alone.  The closing of the little gate, at the
119:105,15['  ]| entrance of the green court in front of the house, drew
119:105,16['  ]| her eyes to the window, and she saw a large party
119:105,17['  ]| walking up to the door.  Amongst them were Sir*John
119:105,18['  ]| and Lady*Middleton and Mrs%*Jennings, but there were
119:105,19['  ]| two others, a gentleman and lady, who were quite
119:105,20['  ]| unknown to her.  She was sitting near the window, and
119:105,21['  ]| as soon as Sir*John perceived her, he left the rest of
119:105,22['  ]| the party to the ceremony of knocking at the door, and
119:105,23['  ]| stepping across the turf, obliged her to open the casement
119:105,24['  ]| to speak to him, though the space was so short
119:105,25['  ]| between the door and the window, as to make it hardly
119:105,26['  ]| possible to speak at one without being heard at the other.
119:105,27[L  ]| "Well,"
119:105,27['  ]| said he,
119:105,27[L  ]| "we have brought you some
119:105,28[L  ]| strangers.  How do you like them?"
119:105,29[A  ]| "Hush! they will hear you."
119:105,30[L  ]| "Never mind if they do.  It is only the Palmers.
119:105,31[L  ]| Charlotte is very pretty, I can tell you.  You may see
119:105,32[L  ]| her if you look this way."
119:105,33['  ]| As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple of
119:105,34['  ]| minutes, without taking that liberty, she begged to
119:105,35['  ]| be excused.
119:105,36[L  ]| "Where is Marianne?  Has she run away because
119:105,37[L  ]| we are come?  I see her instrument is open."
119:105,38[A  ]| "She is walking, I believe."
119:106,01['  ]| They were now joined by Mrs%*Jennings, who had not
119:106,02['  ]| patience enough to wait till the door was opened before
119:106,03['  ]| she told \her\ story.  She came hallooing to the window,
119:106,04[K  ]| "How do you do, my dear?  How does Mrs%*Dashwood
119:106,05[K  ]| do?  And where are your sisters?  What!  all alone!
119:106,06[K  ]| you will be glad of a little company to sit with you.
119:106,07[K  ]| I have brought my other son and daughter to see you.
119:106,08[K  ]| Only think of their coming so suddenly!  I thought
119:106,09[K  ]| I heard a carriage last night, while we were drinking
119:106,10[K  ]| our tea, but it never entered my head that it could be
119:106,11[K  ]| them.  I thought of nothing but whether it might not
119:106,12[K  ]| be Colonel*Brandon come back again; so I said to
119:106,13[K  ]| Sir*John, I do think I hear a carriage; perhaps it is
119:106,14[K  ]| Colonel*Brandon come back again" ~~
119:106,15['  ]| Elinor was obliged to turn from her, in the middle
119:106,16['  ]| of her story, to receive the rest of the party; Lady*Middleton
119:106,17['  ]| introduced the two strangers; Mrs%*Dashwood
119:106,18['  ]| and Margaret came down*stairs at the same time,
119:106,19['  ]| and they all sat down to look at one another, while
119:106,20['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings continued her story as she walked through
119:106,21['  ]| the passage into the parlour, attended by Sir*John.
119:106,22['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer was several years younger than Lady*Middleton,
119:106,23['  ]| and totally unlike her in every respect.
119:106,24['  ]| She was short and plump, had a very pretty face, and
119:106,25['  ]| the finest expression of good*humour in it that could
119:106,26['  ]| possibly be.  Her manners were by no means so elegant
119:106,27['  ]| as her sister's, but they were much more prepossessing.
119:106,28['  ]| She came in with a smile, smiled all the time of her
119:106,29['  ]| visit, except when she laughed, and smiled when she
119:106,30['  ]| went away.  Her husband was a grave looking young
119:106,31['  ]| man of five or six*and*twenty, with an air of more
119:106,32['  ]| fashion and sense than his wife, but of less willingness
119:106,33['  ]| to please or be pleased.  He entered the room with
119:106,34['  ]| a look of self-consequence, slightly bowed to the ladies,
119:106,35['  ]| without speaking a word, and, after briefly surveying
119:106,36['  ]| them and their apartments, took up a newspaper from
119:106,37['  ]| the table and continued to read it as long as he staid.
119:106,38['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer, on the contrary, who was strongly
119:107,01['  ]| endowed by nature with a turn for being uniformly
119:107,02['  ]| civil and happy, was hardly seated before her admiration
119:107,03['  ]| of the parlour and every*thing in it burst forth.
119:107,04[O  ]| "Well! what a delightful room this is!  I never saw
119:107,05[O  ]| anything so charming!  Only think, mama, how it is
119:107,06[O  ]| improved since I was here last!  I always thought it
119:107,07[O  ]| such a sweet place, ma'am!
119:107,07['  ]| (turning to Mrs%*Dashwood,)
119:107,08[O  ]| but you have made it so charming!  Only look, sister,
119:107,09[O  ]| how delightful every*thing is!  How I should like such
119:107,10[O  ]| a house for myself!  Should not you, Mr%*Palmer?"
119:107,11['  ]| Mr%*Palmer made her no answer, and did not even
119:107,12['  ]| raise his eyes from the newspaper.
119:107,13[O  ]| "Mr%*Palmer does not hear me,"
119:107,13['  ]| said she, laughing,
119:107,14[O  ]| "he never does sometimes.  It is so ridiculous!"
119:107,15['  ]| This was quite a new idea to Mrs%*Dashwood, she had
119:107,16['  ]| never been used to find wit in the inattention of any*one,
119:107,17['  ]| and could not help looking with surprise at them both.
119:107,18['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, in the mean*time, talked on as loud as
119:107,19['  ]| she could, and continued her account of their surprise,
119:107,20['  ]| the evening before, on seeing their friends, without
119:107,21['  ]| ceasing till every*thing was told.  Mrs%*Palmer laughed
119:107,22['  ]| heartily at the recollection of their astonishment, and
119:107,23['  ]| every*body agreed, two or three times over, that
119:107,23@y   | it
119:107,24@y   | had been quite an agreeable surprise.
119:107,25[K  ]| "You may believe how glad we all were to see them,"
119:107,26['  ]| added Mrs%*Jennings, leaning forwards towards Elinor,
119:107,27['  ]| and speaking in a low voice as if she meant to be heard
119:107,28['  ]| by no*one else, though they were seated on different
119:107,29['  ]| sides of the room;
119:107,29[K  ]| "but, however, I can't help wishing
119:107,30[K  ]| they had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such
119:107,31[K  ]| a long journey of it, for they came all round by London
119:107,32[K  ]| upon account of some business, for you know
119:107,32['  ]| (nodding
119:107,33['  ]| significantly and pointing to her daughter)
119:107,33[K  ]| it was wrong
119:107,34[K  ]| in her situation.  I wanted her to stay at home and
119:107,35[K  ]| rest this morning, but she would come with us; she
119:107,36[K  ]| longed so much to see you all!"
119:107,37['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer laughed, and said
119:107,37@o   | it would not do her
119:107,38@o   | any harm.
119:108,01[K  ]| "She expects to be confined in February,"
119:108,01['  ]| continued
119:108,02['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings.
119:108,03['  ]| Lady*Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation,
119:108,04['  ]| and therefore exerted herself to ask Mr%*Palmer
119:108,05['  ]| if there was any news in the paper.
119:108,06[N  ]| "No, none at all,"
119:108,06['  ]| he replied, and read on.
119:108,07[L  ]| "Here comes Marianne,"
119:108,07['  ]| cried Sir*John.
119:108,07[L  ]| "Now,
119:108,08[L  ]| Palmer, you shall see a monstrous pretty girl."
119:108,09['  ]| He immediately went into the passage, opened the
119:108,10['  ]| front door, and ushered her in himself.  Mrs%*Jennings
119:108,11['  ]| asked her, as soon as she appeared, if she had not been
119:108,12['  ]| to Allenham; and Mrs%*Palmer laughed so heartily
119:108,13['  ]| at the question, as to shew she understood it.  Mr%*Palmer
119:108,14['  ]| looked up on her entering the room, stared at
119:108,15['  ]| her some minutes, and then returned to his newspaper.
119:108,16['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer's eye was now caught by the drawings
119:108,17['  ]| which hung round the room.  She got up to examine
119:108,18['  ]| them.
119:108,19[O  ]| "Oh! dear, how beautiful these are!  Well! how
119:108,20[O  ]| delightful!  Do but look, mama, how sweet!  I declare
119:108,21[O  ]| they are quite charming; I could look at them for*ever."
119:108,22['  ]| And then sitting down again, she very soon
119:108,23['  ]| forgot that there were any such things in the room.
119:108,24['  ]| When Lady*Middleton rose to go away, Mr%*Palmer
119:108,25['  ]| rose also, laid down the newspaper, stretched himself,
119:108,26['  ]| and looked at them all round.
119:108,27[O  ]| "My love, have you been asleep?"
119:108,27['  ]| said his wife,
119:108,28['  ]| laughing.
119:108,29['  ]| He made her no answer; and only observed, after
119:108,30['  ]| again examining the room, that it was very low pitched,
119:108,31['  ]| and that the ceiling was crooked.  He then made his
119:108,32['  ]| bow and departed with the rest.
119:108,33['  ]| Sir*John had been very urgent with them all to spend
119:108,34['  ]| the next day at the park.  Mrs%*Dashwood, who did not
119:108,35['  ]| chuse to dine with them oftener than they dined at the
119:108,36['  ]| cottage, absolutely refused on her own account; her
119:108,37['  ]| daughters might do as they pleased.  But they had no
119:108,38['  ]| curiosity to see how Mr% and Mrs%*Palmer ate their
119:109,01['  ]| dinner, and no expectation of pleasure from them in
119:109,02['  ]| any other way.  They attempted, therefore, likewise to
119:109,03['  ]| excuse themselves; the weather was uncertain and not
119:109,04['  ]| likely to be good.  But Sir*John would not be satisfied ~~
119:109,05['  ]| the carriage should be sent for them and they must come.
119:109,06['  ]| Lady*Middleton too, though she did not press their
119:109,07['  ]| mother, pressed them.  Mrs%*Jennings and Mrs%*Palmer
119:109,08['  ]| joined their entreaties, all seemed equally anxious to
119:109,09['  ]| avoid a family party; and the young ladies were obliged
119:109,10['  ]| to yield.
119:109,11[C  ]| "Why should they ask us?"
119:109,11['  ]| said Marianne, as soon
119:109,12['  ]| as they were gone.
119:109,12[C  ]| "The rent of this cottage is said to
119:109,13[C  ]| be low; but we have it on very hard terms, if we are
119:109,14[C  ]| to dine at the park whenever any*one is staying either
119:109,15[C  ]| with them, or with us."
119:109,16[A  ]| "They mean no less to be civil and kind to us now,"
119:109,17['  ]| said Elinor,"
119:109,17[A  ]| by these frequent invitations than by
119:109,18[A  ]| those which we received from them a few weeks ago.
119:109,19[A  ]| The alteration is not in them, if their parties are grown
119:109,20[A  ]| tedious and dull.  We must look for the change elsewhere."
119:109,21[A  ]|
120:110,01['  ]| As the Miss*Dashwoods entered the drawing-room
120:110,02['  ]| of the park the next day, at one door, Mrs%*Palmer
120:110,03['  ]| came running in at the other, looking as good*humoured
120:110,04['  ]| and merry as before.  She took them all most affectionately
120:110,05['  ]| by the hand, and expressed great delight in seeing
120:110,06['  ]| them again.
120:110,07[O  ]| "I am so glad to see you!"
120:110,07['  ]| said she, seating herself
120:110,08['  ]| between Elinor and Marianne,
120:110,08[O  ]| "for it is so bad a day
120:110,09[O  ]| I was afraid you might not come, which would be
120:110,10[O  ]| a shocking thing, as we go away again to-morrow.  We
120:110,11[O  ]| must go, for the Westons come to us next week you
120:110,12[O  ]| know.  It was quite a sudden thing our coming at all,
120:110,13[O  ]| and I knew nothing of it till the carriage was coming to
120:110,14[O  ]| the door, and then Mr%*Palmer asked me if I would
120:110,15[O  ]| go with him to Barton.  He is so droll!  He never tells
120:110,16[O  ]| me any*thing!  I am so sorry we cannot stay longer;
120:110,17[O  ]| however we shall meet again in town very soon, I hope."
120:110,18['  ]| They were obliged to put an end to such an expectation.
120:110,19[O  ]| "Not go to town!"
120:110,19['  ]| cried Mrs%*Palmer, with a laugh,
120:110,20[O  ]| "I shall be quite disappointed if you do not.  I could
120:110,21[O  ]| get the nicest house in the world for you, next door to
120:110,22[O  ]| our's, in Hanover-square.  You must come, indeed.
120:110,23[O  ]| I am sure I shall be very happy to chaperon you at any
120:110,24[O  ]| time till I am confined, if Mrs%*Dashwood should not
120:110,25[O  ]| like to go into public."
120:110,26['  ]| They thanked her; but were obliged to resist all
120:110,27['  ]| her entreaties.
120:110,28[O  ]| "Oh! my love,"
120:110,28['  ]| cried Mrs%*Palmer to her husband,
120:110,29['  ]| who just then entered the room ~~
120:110,29[O  ]| "You must help me
120:110,30[O  ]| persuade the Miss*Dashwoods to go to town this winter."
120:110,31['  ]| Her love made no answer; and after slightly bowing
120:110,32['  ]| to the ladies, began complaining of the weather.
120:110,33[N  ]| "How horrid all this is!"
120:110,33['  ]| said he.
120:110,33[N  ]| "Such weather
120:111,01[N  ]| makes every*thing and every*body disgusting.  Dulness
120:111,02[N  ]| is as much produced within doors as without, by rain.
120:111,03[N  ]| It makes one detest all one's acquaintance.  What the
120:111,04[N  ]| devil does Sir*John mean by not having a billiard*room
120:111,05[N  ]| in his house?  How few people know what comfort is!
120:111,06[N  ]| Sir*John is as stupid as the weather."
120:111,07['  ]| The rest of the company soon dropt in.
120:111,08[L  ]| "I am afraid, Miss*Marianne,"
120:111,08['  ]| said Sir*John,
120:111,08[L  ]| "you
120:111,09[L  ]| have not been able to take your usual walk to Allenham
120:111,10[L  ]| to-day."
120:111,11['  ]| Marianne looked very grave and said nothing.
120:111,12[O  ]| "Oh! don't be so sly before us,"
120:111,12['  ]| said Mrs%*Palmer;
120:111,13[O  ]| "for we know all about it, I assure you; and I admire
120:111,14[O  ]| your taste very much, for I think he is extremely handsome.
120:111,15[O  ]| We do not live a great way from him in the
120:111,16[O  ]| country, you know.  Not above ten miles, I dare say."
120:111,17[N  ]| "Much nearer thirty,"
120:111,17['  ]| said her husband.
120:111,18[O  ]| "Ah! well! there is not much difference.  I never
120:111,19[O  ]| was at his house; but they say it is a sweet pretty
120:111,20[O  ]| place."
120:111,21[N  ]| "As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life,"
120:111,21['  ]| said Mr%*Palmer.
120:111,22['  ]|
120:111,23['  ]| Marianne remained perfectly silent, though her
120:111,24['  ]| countenance betrayed her interest in what was said.
120:111,25[O  ]| "Is it very ugly?"
120:111,25['  ]| continued Mrs%*Palmer ~~
120:111,25[O  ]| "then
120:111,26[O  ]| it must be some other place that is so pretty I suppose."
120:111,27['  ]| When they were seated in the dining*room, Sir*John
120:111,28['  ]| observed with regret that they were only eight altogether.
120:111,29[L  ]| "My dear,"
120:111,29['  ]| said he to his lady,
120:111,29[L  ]| "it is very provoking
120:111,30[L  ]| that we should be so few.  Why did not you ask the
120:111,31[L  ]| Gilberts to come to us to-day?"
120:111,32[M  ]| "Did not I tell you, Sir*John, when you spoke to
120:111,33[M  ]| me about it before, that it could not be done?  They
120:111,34[M  ]| dined with us last."
120:111,35[K  ]| "You and I, Sir*John,"
120:111,35['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
120:111,35[K  ]| "should
120:111,36[K  ]| not stand upon such ceremony."
120:111,37[N  ]| "Then you would be very ill-bred,"
120:111,37['  ]| cried Mr%*Palmer.
120:111,38[O  ]| "My love, you contradict every*body," ~~
120:111,38['  ]| said his
120:112,01['  ]| wife with her usual laugh.
120:112,01[O  ]| "Do you know that you are
120:112,02[O  ]| quite rude?"
120:112,03[N  ]| "I did not know I contradicted any*body in calling
120:112,04[N  ]| your mother ill-bred."
120:112,05[K  ]| "Aye, you may abuse me as you please,"
120:112,05['  ]| said the
120:112,06['  ]| good-natured old lady,
120:112,06[K  ]| "you have taken Charlotte off
120:112,07[K  ]| my hands, and cannot give her back again.  So there
120:112,08[K  ]| I have the whip hand of you."
120:112,09['  ]| Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her husband
120:112,10['  ]| could not get rid of her; and exultingly said,
120:112,10@o   | she did
120:112,11@o   | not care how cross he was to her, as they must live
120:112,12@o   | together.
120:112,12['  ]| It was impossible for any*one to be more
120:112,13['  ]| thoroughly good-natured, or more determined to be
120:112,14['  ]| happy than Mrs%*Palmer.  The studied indifference,
120:112,15['  ]| insolence, and discontent of her husband gave her no
120:112,16['  ]| pain:  and when he scolded or abused her, she was
120:112,17['  ]| highly diverted.
120:112,18[O  ]| "Mr%*Palmer is so droll!"
120:112,18['  ]| said she, in a whisper,
120:112,19['  ]| to Elinor.
120:112,19[O  ]| "He is always out of humour."
120:112,20['  ]| Elinor was not inclined, after a little observation, to
120:112,21['  ]| give him credit for being so genuinely and unaffectedly
120:112,22['  ]| ill-natured or ill-bred as he wished to appear.  His
120:112,23['  ]| temper might perhaps be a little soured by finding, like
120:112,24['  ]| many others of his sex, that through some unaccountable
120:112,25['  ]| bias in favour of beauty, he was the husband of a very
120:112,26['  ]| silly woman, ~~ but she knew that
120:112,26@a   | this kind of blunder
120:112,27@a   | was too common for any sensible man to be lastingly
120:112,28@a   | hurt by it. ~~ It was rather a wish of distinction she
120:112,29@a   | believed, which produced his contemptuous treatment
120:112,30@a   | of every*body, and his general abuse of every*thing
120:112,31@a   | before him.  It was the desire of appearing superior to
120:112,32@a   | other people.  The motive was too common to be wondered
120:112,33@a   | at; but the means, however they might succeed
120:112,34@a   | by establishing his superiority in ill-breeding, were not
120:112,35@a   | likely to attach any*one to him except his wife.
120:112,36[O  ]| "Oh! my dear Miss*Dashwood,"
120:112,36['  ]| said Mrs%*Palmer
120:112,37['  ]| soon afterwards,
120:112,37[O  ]| "I have got such a favour to ask of
120:112,38[O  ]| you and your sister.  Will you come and spend some
120:113,01[O  ]| time at Cleveland this Christmas?  Now, pray do, ~~
120:113,02[O  ]| and come while the Westons are with us.  You cannot
120:113,03[O  ]| think how happy I shall be!  It will be quite delightful!
120:113,04[O  ]| ~~ My love,"
120:113,04['  ]| applying to her husband,
120:113,04[O  ]| "don't you
120:113,05[O  ]| long to have the Miss*Dashwoods come to Cleveland?"
120:113,06[N  ]| "Certainly," ~~
120:113,06['  ]| he replied with a sneer ~~
120:113,06[N  ]| "I came into
120:113,07[N  ]| Devonshire with no other view."
120:113,08[O  ]| "There now" ~~
120:113,08['  ]| said his lady,
120:113,08[O  ]| "you see Mr%*Palmer
120:113,09[O  ]| expects you; so you cannot refuse to come."
120:113,10['  ]| They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation.
120:113,11['  ]|
120:113,12[O  ]| "But indeed you must and shall come.  I am sure
120:113,13[O  ]| you will like it of all things.  The Westons will be with
120:113,14[O  ]| us, and it will be quite delightful.  You cannot think
120:113,15[O  ]| what a sweet place Cleveland is; and we are so gay
120:113,16[O  ]| now, for Mr%*Palmer is always going about the country
120:113,17[O  ]| canvassing against the election; and so many people
120:113,18[O  ]| come to dine with us that I never saw before, it is quite
120:113,19[O  ]| charming!  But, poor fellow!  it is very fatiguing to
120:113,20[O  ]| him!  for he is forced to make every*body like him."
120:113,21['  ]| Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she
120:113,22['  ]| assented to the hardship of such an obligation.
120:113,23[O  ]| "How charming it will be,"
120:113,23['  ]| said Charlotte,
120:113,23[O  ]| "when he
120:113,24[O  ]| is in Parliament! ~~ won't it?  How I shall laugh!  It
120:113,25[O  ]| will be so ridiculous to see all his letters directed to him
120:113,26[O  ]| with an M%P% ~~ But do you know, he says, he will never
120:113,27[O  ]| frank for me?  He declares he won't.  Don't you,
120:113,28[O  ]| Mr%*Palmer?"
120:113,29['  ]| Mr%*Palmer took no notice of her.
120:113,30[O  ]| "He cannot bear writing, you know,"
120:113,30['  ]| she continued ~~
120:113,31[O  ]| "he says it is quite shocking."
120:113,32[N  ]| "No;"
120:113,32['  ]| said he,
120:113,32[N  ]| "I never said any*thing so irrational.
120:113,33[N  ]| Don't palm all your abuses of language upon me."
120:113,34[O  ]| "There now; you see how droll he is.  This is always
120:113,35[O  ]| the way with him!  Sometimes he won't speak to me for
120:113,36[O  ]| half a day together, and then he comes out with something
120:113,37[O  ]| so droll ~~ all about any*thing in the world."
120:113,38['  ]| She surprised Elinor very much as they returned into
120:114,01['  ]| the drawing-room by asking her whether she did not
120:114,02['  ]| like Mr%*Palmer excessively.
120:114,03[A  ]| "Certainly;"
120:114,03['  ]| said Elinor,
120:114,03[A  ]| "he seems very agreeable."
120:114,04[O  ]| "Well ~~ I am so glad you do.  I thought you would,
120:114,05[O  ]| he is so pleasant; and Mr%*Palmer is excessively pleased
120:114,06[O  ]| with you and your sisters I can tell you, and you can't
120:114,07[O  ]| think how disappointed he will be if you don't come to
120:114,08[O  ]| Cleveland. ~~ I can't imagine why you should object
120:114,09[O  ]| to it."
120:114,10['  ]| Elinor was again obliged to decline her invitation;
120:114,11['  ]| and by changing the subject, put a stop to her entreaties.
120:114,12['  ]| She thought it probable that as they lived in the same
120:114,13['  ]| county, Mrs%*Palmer might be able to give some more
120:114,14['  ]| particular account of Willoughby's general character,
120:114,15['  ]| than could be gathered from the Middletons' partial
120:114,16['  ]| acquaintance with him; and she was eager to gain from
120:114,17['  ]| any*one, such a confirmation of his merits as might
120:114,18['  ]| remove the possibility of fear for Marianne.  She began
120:114,19['  ]| by inquiring if they saw much of Mr%*Willoughby at
120:114,20['  ]| Cleveland, and whether they were intimately acquainted
120:114,21['  ]| with him.
120:114,22[O  ]| "Oh! dear, yes; I know him extremely well,"
120:114,23['  ]| replied Mrs%*Palmer ~~
120:114,23[O  ]| "Not that I ever spoke to him
120:114,24[O  ]| indeed; but I have seen him for*ever in town.  Somehow
120:114,25[O  ]| or other I never happened to be staying at Barton
120:114,26[O  ]| while he was at Allenham.  Mama saw him here once
120:114,27[O  ]| before; ~~ but I was with my uncle at Weymouth.
120:114,28[O  ]| However, I dare say we should have seen a great deal
120:114,29[O  ]| of him in Somersetshire, if it had not happened very
120:114,30[O  ]| unluckily that we should never have been in the country
120:114,31[O  ]| together.  He is very little at Combe, I believe; but
120:114,32[O  ]| if he were ever so much there, I do not think Mr%*Palmer
120:114,33[O  ]| would visit him, for he is in the opposition you know,
120:114,34[O  ]| and besides it is such a way off.  I know why you
120:114,35[O  ]| inquire about him, very well; your sister is to marry
120:114,36[O  ]| him.  I am monstrous glad of it, for then I shall have
120:114,37[O  ]| her for a neighbour you know."
120:114,38[A  ]| "Upon my word,"
120:114,38['  ]| replied Elinor,
120:114,38[A  ]| "you know much
120:115,01[A  ]| more of the matter than I do, if you have any reason to
120:115,02[A  ]| expect such a match."
120:115,03[O  ]| "Don't pretend to deny it, because you know it is
120:115,04[O  ]| what every*body talks of.  I assure you I heard of it in
120:115,05[O  ]| my way through town."
120:115,06[A  ]| "My dear Mrs%*Palmer!"
120:115,07[O  ]| "Upon my honour I did. ~~ I met Colonel*Brandon
120:115,08[O  ]| Monday morning in Bond-street, just before we left
120:115,09[O  ]| town, and he told me of it directly."
120:115,10[A  ]| "You surprise me very much.  Colonel*Brandon tell
120:115,11[A  ]| you of it!  Surely you must be mistaken.  To give such
120:115,12[A  ]| intelligence to a person who could not be interested in
120:115,13[A  ]| it, even if it were true, is not what I should expect
120:115,14[A  ]| Colonel*Brandon to do."
120:115,15[O  ]| "But I do assure you it was so, for all that, and I will
120:115,16[O  ]| tell you how it happened.  When we met him, he turned
120:115,17[O  ]| back and walked with us; and so we began talking of
120:115,18[O  ]| my brother and sister, and one thing and another, and
120:115,19[O  ]| I said to him, ""So, Colonel, there is a new family come
120:115,20[O  ]| to Barton*cottage, I hear, and mama sends me word
120:115,21[O  ]| they are very pretty, and that one of them is going to
120:115,22[O  ]| be married to Mr%*Willoughby of Combe*Magna.  Is it
120:115,23[O  ]| true, pray? for of course you must know, as you have
120:115,24[O  ]| been in Devonshire so lately."""
120:115,25[A  ]| "And what did the Colonel say?"
120:115,26[O  ]| "Oh! ~~ he did not say much; but he looked as if
120:115,27[O  ]| he knew it to be true, so from that moment I set it down
120:115,28[O  ]| as certain.  It will be quite delightful, I declare!  When
120:115,29[O  ]| is it to take place?"
120:115,30[A  ]| "Mr%*Brandon was very well I hope."
120:115,31[O  ]| "Oh! yes, quite well; and so full of your praises,
120:115,32[O  ]| he did nothing but say fine things of you."
120:115,33[A  ]| "I am flattered by his commendation.  He seems
120:115,34[A  ]| an excellent man; and I think him uncommonly
120:115,35[A  ]| pleasing."
120:115,36[O  ]| "So do I. ~~ He is such a charming man, that it is
120:115,37[O  ]| quite a pity he should be so grave and so dull.  Mama
120:115,38[O  ]| says \he\ was in love with your sister too. ~~ I assure you
120:116,01[O  ]| it was a great compliment if he was, for he hardly ever
120:116,02[O  ]| falls in love with any*body."
120:116,03[A  ]| "Is Mr%*Willoughby much known in your part of
120:116,04[A  ]| Somersetshire?"
120:116,04['  ]| said Elinor.
120:116,05[O  ]| "Oh! yes, extremely well; that is, I do not believe
120:116,06[O  ]| many people are acquainted with him, because Combe*Magna
120:116,07[O  ]| is so far off; but they all think him extremely
120:116,08[O  ]| agreeable I assure you.  Nobody is more liked than
120:116,09[O  ]| Mr%*Willoughby wherever he goes, and so you may tell
120:116,10[O  ]| your sister.  She is a monstrous lucky girl to get him,
120:116,11[O  ]| upon my honour; not but that he is much more lucky
120:116,12[O  ]| in getting her, because she is so very handsome and
120:116,13[O  ]| agreeable, that nothing can be good enough for her.
120:116,14[O  ]| However I don't think her hardly at all handsomer
120:116,15[O  ]| than you, I assure you; for I think you both excessively
120:116,16[O  ]| pretty, and so does Mr%*Palmer too I am sure, though
120:116,17[O  ]| we could not get him to own it last night."
120:116,18['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was
120:116,19['  ]| not very material; but any testimony in his favour,
120:116,20['  ]| however small, was pleasing to her.
120:116,21[O  ]| "I am so glad we are got acquainted at last,"
120:116,21['  ]| continued
120:116,22['  ]| Charlotte. ~~
120:116,22[O  ]| "And now I hope we shall always
120:116,23[O  ]| be great friends.  You can't think how much I longed
120:116,24[O  ]| to see you!  It is so delightful that you should live at
120:116,25[O  ]| the cottage!  Nothing can be like it to be sure!  And
120:116,26[O  ]| I am so glad your sister is going to be well married!
120:116,27[O  ]| I hope you will be a great deal at Combe*Magna.  It is
120:116,28[O  ]| a sweet place by all accounts."
120:116,29[A  ]| "You have been long acquainted with Colonel*Brandon,
120:116,30[A  ]| have not you?"
120:116,31[O  ]| "Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married. ~~
120:116,32[O  ]| He was a particular friend of Sir*John's.  I believe,"
120:116,33['  ]| she added in a low voice,
120:116,33[O  ]| "he would have been very
120:116,34[O  ]| glad to have had me, if he could.  Sir*John and Lady*Middleton
120:116,35[O  ]| wished it very much.  But mama did not
120:116,36[O  ]| think the match good enough for me, otherwise Sir*John
120:116,37[O  ]| would have mentioned it to the Colonel, and we should
120:116,38[O  ]| have been married immediately."
120:117,01[A  ]| "Did not Colonel*Brandon know of Sir*John's proposal
120:117,02[A  ]| to your mother before it was made?  Had he never
120:117,03[A  ]| owned his affection to yourself?"
120:117,04[O  ]| "Oh! no; but if mama had not objected to it,
120:117,05[O  ]| I dare say he would have liked it of all things.  He had
120:117,06[O  ]| not seen me then above twice, for it was before I left
120:117,07[O  ]| school.  However I am much happier as I am.  Mr%*Palmer
120:117,08[O  ]| is just the kind of man I like."
121:118,01['  ]| The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, and
121:118,02['  ]| the two families at Barton were again left to entertain
121:118,03['  ]| each other.  But this did not last long; Elinor had
121:118,04['  ]| hardly got their last visitors out of her head, had hardly
121:118,05['  ]| done wondering at Charlotte's being so happy without
121:118,06['  ]| a cause, at Mr%*Palmer's acting so simply, with good
121:118,07['  ]| abilities, and at the strange unsuitableness which often
121:118,08['  ]| existed between husband and wife, before Sir*John's and
121:118,09['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings's active zeal in the cause of society, procured
121:118,10['  ]| her some other new acquaintance to see and observe.
121:118,11['  ]| In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with
121:118,12['  ]| two young ladies, whom Mrs%*Jennings had the satisfaction
121:118,13['  ]| of discovering to be her relations, and this was
121:118,14['  ]| enough for Sir*John to invite them directly to the park,
121:118,15['  ]| as soon as their present engagements at Exeter were over.
121:118,16['  ]| Their engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before
121:118,17['  ]| such an invitation, and Lady*Middleton was thrown
121:118,18['  ]| into no little alarm on the return of Sir*John, by hearing
121:118,19['  ]| that she was very soon to receive a visit from two girls
121:118,20['  ]| whom she had never seen in her life, and of whose
121:118,21['  ]| elegance, ~~ whose tolerable gentility even, she could
121:118,22['  ]| have no proof; for the assurances of her husband and
121:118,23['  ]| mother on that subject went for nothing at all.  Their
121:118,24['  ]| being her relations too made it so much the worse; and
121:118,25['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings's attempts at consolation were therefore
121:118,26['  ]| unfortunately founded, when she advised her daughter
121:118,27['  ]| not to care about their being so fashionable; because
121:118,28['  ]| they were all cousins and must put up with one another.
121:118,29['  ]| As it was impossible however now to prevent their
121:118,30['  ]| coming, Lady*Middleton resigned herself to the idea of
121:118,31['  ]| it, with all the philosophy of a well*bred woman, contenting
121:118,32['  ]| herself with merely giving her husband a gentle
121:118,33['  ]| reprimand on the subject five or six times every day.
121:119,01['  ]| The young ladies arrived, their appearance was by
121:119,02['  ]| no means ungenteel or unfashionable.  Their dress was
121:119,03['  ]| very smart, their manners very civil, they were delighted
121:119,04['  ]| with the house, and in raptures with the furniture, and
121:119,05['  ]| they happened to be so doatingly fond of children that
121:119,06['  ]| Lady*Middleton's good opinion was engaged in their
121:119,07['  ]| favour before they had been an hour at the Park.  She
121:119,08['  ]| declared them to be
121:119,08@m   | very agreeable girls indeed,
121:119,08['  ]| which
121:119,09['  ]| for her ladyship was enthusiastic admiration.  Sir*John's
121:119,10['  ]| confidence in his own judgment rose with this animated
121:119,11['  ]| praise, and he set off directly for the cottage to tell the
121:119,12['  ]| Miss*Dashwoods of the Miss*Steeles' arrival, and to
121:119,13['  ]| assure them of their being
121:119,13@l   | the sweetest girls in the world.
121:119,14['  ]| From such commendation as this, however, there was
121:119,15['  ]| not much to be learned; Elinor well knew that the
121:119,16['  ]| sweetest girls in the world were to be met with in every
121:119,17['  ]| part of England, under every possible variation of form,
121:119,18['  ]| face, temper, and understanding.  Sir*John wanted the
121:119,19['  ]| whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at
121:119,20['  ]| his guests.  Benevolent, philanthropic man!  It was
121:119,21['  ]| painful to him even to keep a third cousin to himself.
121:119,22[L  ]| "Do come now,"
121:119,22['  ]| said he ~~
121:119,22[L  ]| "pray come ~~ you must
121:119,23[L  ]| come ~~ I declare you shall come ~~ You can't think how
121:119,24[L  ]| you will like them.  Lucy is monstrous pretty, and so
good*humoured
121:119,25[L  ]| and agreeable!  The children are all hanging
121:119,26[L  ]| about her already, as if she was an old acquaintance.  And
121:119,27[L  ]| they both long to see you of all things, for they have heard
121:119,28[L  ]| at Exeter that you are the most beautiful creatures in the
121:119,29[L  ]| world; and I have told them it is all very true, and a great
121:119,30[L  ]| deal more.  You will be delighted with them I am sure.
121:119,31[L  ]| They have brought the whole coach full of playthings
121:119,32[L  ]| for the children.  How can you be so cross as not to
121:119,33[L  ]| come?  Why they are your cousins, you know, after
121:119,34[L  ]| a fashion.  \You\ are my cousins, and they are my wife's,
121:119,35[L  ]| so you must be related."
121:119,36['  ]| But Sir*John could not prevail.  He could only obtain a
121:119,37['  ]| promise of their calling at the Park within a day or two,
121:119,38['  ]| and then left them in amazement at their indifference,
121:120,01['  ]| to walk home and boast anew of their attractions to
121:120,02['  ]| the Miss*Steeles, as he had been already boasting of the
121:120,03['  ]| Miss*Steeles to them.
121:120,04['  ]| When their promised visit to the Park and consequent
121:120,05['  ]| introduction to these young ladies took place, they
121:120,06['  ]| found in the appearance of the eldest, who was nearly
121:120,07['  ]| thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible face, nothing
121:120,08['  ]| to admire; but in the other, who was not more than
121:120,09['  ]| two or three*and*twenty, they acknowledged considerable
121:120,10['  ]| beauty; her features were pretty, and she had
121:120,11['  ]| a sharp quick eye, and a smartness of air, which though
121:120,12['  ]| it did not give actual elegance or grace, gave distinction
121:120,13['  ]| to her person. ~~ Their manners were particularly civil,
121:120,14['  ]| and Elinor soon allowed them credit for some kind of
121:120,15['  ]| sense, when she saw with what constant and judicious
121:120,16['  ]| attentions they were making themselves agreeable to
121:120,17['  ]| Lady*Middleton.  With her children they were in
121:120,18['  ]| continual raptures, extolling their beauty, courting
121:120,19['  ]| their notice, and humouring all their whims; and such
121:120,20['  ]| of their time as could be spared from the importunate
121:120,21['  ]| demands which this politeness made on it, was spent
121:120,22['  ]| in admiration of whatever her ladyship was doing, if
121:120,23['  ]| she happened to be doing any*thing, or in taking patterns
121:120,24['  ]| of some elegant new dress, in which her appearance the
121:120,25['  ]| day before had thrown them into unceasing delight.
121:120,26['  ]| Fortunately for those who pay their court through such
121:120,27['  ]| foibles, a fond mother, though, in pursuit of praise for
121:120,28['  ]| her children, the most rapacious of human beings, is
121:120,29['  ]| likewise the most credulous; her demands are exorbitant;
121:120,30['  ]| but she will swallow any*thing; and the excessive
121:120,31['  ]| affection and endurance of the Miss*Steeles towards
121:120,32['  ]| her offspring, were viewed therefore by Lady*Middleton
121:120,33['  ]| without the smallest surprise or distrust.  She saw with
121:120,34['  ]| maternal complacency all the impertinent incroachments
121:120,35['  ]| and mischievous tricks to which her cousins submitted.
121:120,36['  ]| She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their
121:120,37['  ]| ears, their work-bags searched, and their knives and
121:120,38['  ]| scissars stolen away, and felt no doubt of its being
121:121,01['  ]| a reciprocal enjoyment.  It suggested no other surprise
121:121,02['  ]| than that Elinor and Marianne should sit so composedly
121:121,03['  ]| by, without claiming a share in what was passing.
121:121,04[M  ]| "John is in such spirits to-day!"
121:121,04['  ]| said she, on his
121:121,05['  ]| taking Miss*Steele's pocket handkerchief, and throwing
121:121,06['  ]| it out of the window ~~
121:121,06[M  ]| "He is full of monkey*tricks."
121:121,07['  ]| And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently
121:121,08['  ]| pinching one of the same lady's fingers, she fondly
121:121,09['  ]| observed,
121:121,09[M  ]| "How playful William is!"
121:121,10[M  ]| "And here is my sweet little Annamaria,"
121:121,10['  ]| she added,
121:121,11['  ]| tenderly caressing a little girl of three years old, who had
121:121,12['  ]| not made a noise for the last two minutes;
121:121,12[M  ]| "And she
121:121,13[M  ]| is always so gentle and quiet ~~ Never was there such
121:121,14[M  ]| a quiet little thing!"
121:121,15['  ]| But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin
121:121,16['  ]| in her ladyship's head*dress slightly scratching the child's
121:121,17['  ]| neck, produced from this pattern of gentleness, such
121:121,18['  ]| violent screams, as could hardly be outdone by any
121:121,19['  ]| creature professedly noisy.  The mother's consternation
121:121,20['  ]| was excessive; but it could not surpass the alarm of
121:121,21['  ]| the Miss*Steeles, and every*thing was done by all three,
121:121,22['  ]| in so critical an emergency, which affection could suggest
121:121,23['  ]| as likely to assuage the agonies of the little sufferer.
121:121,24['  ]| She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses,
121:121,25['  ]| her wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the
121:121,26['  ]| Miss*Steeles, who was on her knees to attend her, and her
121:121,27['  ]| mouth stuffed with sugar plums by the other.  With
121:121,28['  ]| such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to
121:121,29['  ]| cease crying.  She still screamed and sobbed lustily,
121:121,30['  ]| kicked her two brothers for offering to touch her, and all
121:121,31['  ]| their united soothings were ineffectual till Lady*Middleton
121:121,32['  ]| luckily remembering that in a scene of similar distress
121:121,33['  ]| last week, some apricot marmalade had been successfully
121:121,34['  ]| applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was
121:121,35['  ]| eagerly proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a
121:121,36['  ]| slight intermission of screams in the young lady on
121:121,37['  ]| hearing it, gave them reason to hope that it would not
121:121,38['  ]| be rejected. ~~ She was carried out of the room therefore
121:122,01['  ]| in her mother's arms, in quest of this medicine, and as
121:122,02['  ]| the two boys chose to follow, though earnestly entreated
121:122,03['  ]| by their mother to stay behind, the four young ladies
121:122,04['  ]| were left in a quietness which the room had not known
121:122,05['  ]| for many hours.
121:122,06[P  ]| "Poor little creature!"
121:122,06['  ]| said Miss*Steele, as soon as they
121:122,07['  ]| were gone.
121:122,07[P  ]| "It might have been a very sad accident."
121:122,08[C  ]| "Yet I hardly know how,"
121:122,08['  ]| cried Marianne,
121:122,08[C  ]| "unless
121:122,09[C  ]| it had been under totally different circumstances.  But
121:122,10[C  ]| this is the usual way of heightening alarm, where there
121:122,11[C  ]| is nothing to be alarmed at in reality."
121:122,12[Q  ]| "What a sweet woman Lady*Middleton is!"
121:122,12['  ]| said
121:122,13['  ]| Lucy*Steele.
121:122,14['  ]| Marianne was silent; it was impossible for her to
121:122,15['  ]| say what she did not feel, however trivial the occasion;
121:122,16['  ]| and upon Elinor therefore the whole task of telling lies
121:122,17['  ]| when politeness required it, always fell.  She did her
121:122,18['  ]| best when thus called on, by speaking of Lady*Middleton
121:122,19['  ]| with more warmth than she felt, though with far less
121:122,20['  ]| than Miss*Lucy.
121:122,21[P  ]| "And Sir*John too,"
121:122,21['  ]| cried the elder sister,
121:122,21[P  ]| "what
121:122,22[P  ]| a charming man he is!"
121:122,23['  ]| Here too, Miss*Dashwood's commendation, being
121:122,24['  ]| only simple and just, came in without any eclat.  She
121:122,25['  ]| merely observed that he was perfectly good*humoured
121:122,26['  ]| and friendly.
121:122,27[P  ]| "And what a charming little family they have!
121:122,28[P  ]| I never saw such fine children in my life. ~~ I declare
121:122,29[P  ]| I quite doat upon them already, and indeed I am always
121:122,30[P  ]| distractedly fond of children."
121:122,31[A  ]| "I should guess so,"
121:122,31['  ]| said Elinor with a smile,
121:122,31[A  ]| "from
121:122,32[A  ]| what I have witnessed this morning."
121:122,33[Q  ]| "I have a notion,"
121:122,33['  ]| said Lucy,
121:122,33[Q  ]| "you think the little
121:122,34[Q  ]| Middletons rather too much indulged; perhaps they may
121:122,35[Q  ]| be the outside of enough; but it is so natural in Lady*Middleton;
121:122,36[Q  ]| and for my part, I love to see children full
121:122,37[Q  ]| of life and spirits; I cannot bear them if they are tame
121:122,38[Q  ]| and quiet."
121:123,01[A  ]| "I confess,"
121:123,01['  ]| replied Elinor,
121:123,01[A  ]| "that while I am at
121:123,02[A  ]| Barton*Park, I never think of tame and quiet children
121:123,03[A  ]| with any abhorrence."
121:123,04['  ]| A short pause succeeded this speech, which was first
121:123,05['  ]| broken by Miss*Steele, who seemed very much disposed
121:123,06['  ]| for conversation, and who now said rather abruptly,
121:123,07[P  ]| "And how do you like Devonshire, Miss*Dashwood?
121:123,08[P  ]| I suppose you were very sorry to leave Sussex."
121:123,09['  ]| In some surprise at the familiarity of this question,
121:123,10['  ]| or at least of the manner in which it was spoken, Elinor
121:123,11['  ]| replied that she was.
121:123,12[P  ]| "Norland is a prodigious beautiful place, is not it?"
121:123,13['  ]| added Miss*Steele.
121:123,14[Q  ]| "We have heard Sir*John admire it excessively,"
121:123,15['  ]| said Lucy, who seemed to think some apology necessary
121:123,16['  ]| for the freedom of her sister.
121:123,17[A  ]| "I think every*one \must\ admire it,"
121:123,17['  ]| replied Elinor,
121:123,18[A  ]| "who ever saw the place; though it is not to be supposed
121:123,19[A  ]| that any*one can estimate its beauties as we do."
121:123,20[P  ]| "And had you a great many smart beaux there?
121:123,21[P  ]| I suppose you have not so many in this part of the world;
121:123,22[P  ]| for my part, I think they are a vast addition always."
121:123,23[Q  ]| "But why should you think,"
121:123,23['  ]| said Lucy, looking
121:123,24['  ]| ashamed of her sister,
121:123,24[Q  ]| "that there are not as many
121:123,25[Q  ]| genteel young men in Devonshire as Sussex?"
121:123,26[P  ]| "Nay, my dear, I'm sure I don't pretend to say that
121:123,27[P  ]| there an't.  I'm sure there's a vast many smart beaux
121:123,28[P  ]| in Exeter; but you know, how could I tell what smart
121:123,29[P  ]| beaux there might be about Norland; and I was only
121:123,30[P  ]| afraid the Miss*Dashwoods might find it dull at Barton,
121:123,31[P  ]| if they had not so many as they used to have.  But
121:123,32[P  ]| perhaps you young ladies may not care about the
121:123,33[P  ]| beaux, and had as lief be without them as with them.
121:123,34[P  ]| For my part, I think they are vastly agreeable, provided
121:123,35[P  ]| they dress smart and behave civil.  But I can't bear to
121:123,36[P  ]| see them dirty and nasty.  Now there's Mr%*Rose at
121:123,37[P  ]| Exeter, a prodigious smart young man, quite a beau,
121:123,38[P  ]| clerk to Mr%*Simpson you know, and yet if you do but
121:124,01[P  ]| meet him of a morning, he is not fit to be seen. ~~ I
121:124,02[P  ]| suppose your brother was quite a beau, Miss*Dashwood,
121:124,03[P  ]| before he married, as he was so rich?"
121:124,04[A  ]| "Upon my word,"
121:124,04['  ]| replied Elinor,
121:124,04[A  ]| "I cannot tell
121:124,05[A  ]| you, for I do not perfectly comprehend the meaning
121:124,06[A  ]| of the word.  But this I can say, that if he ever was a
121:124,07[A  ]| beau before he married, he is one still, for there is not the
121:124,08[A  ]| smallest alteration in him."
121:124,09[P  ]| "Oh! dear! one never thinks of married mens'
121:124,10[P  ]| being beaux ~~ they have something else to do."
121:124,11[Q  ]| "Lord!  Anne,"
121:124,11['  ]| cried her sister,
121:124,11[Q  ]| "you can talk of
121:124,12[Q  ]| nothing but beaux; ~~ you will make Miss*Dashwood
121:124,13[Q  ]| believe you think of nothing else."
121:124,13['  ]| And then to turn
121:124,14['  ]| the discourse, she began admiring the house and the
121:124,15['  ]| furniture.
121:124,16['  ]| This specimen of the Miss*Steeles was enough.  The
121:124,17['  ]| vulgar freedom and folly of the eldest left her no recommendation,
121:124,18['  ]| and as Elinor was not blinded by the beauty,
121:124,19['  ]| or the shrewd look of the youngest, to her want of real
121:124,20['  ]| elegance and artlessness, she left the house without any
121:124,21['  ]| wish of knowing them better.
121:124,22['  ]| Not so, the Miss*Steeles. ~~ They came from Exeter,
121:124,23['  ]| well provided with admiration for the use of Sir*John*Middleton,
121:124,24['  ]| his family, and all his relations, and no
121:124,25['  ]| niggardly proportion was now dealt out to his fair
121:124,26['  ]| cousins, whom they declared to be
121:124,26@y   | the most beautiful,
121:124,27@y   | elegant, accomplished and agreeable girls they had
121:124,28@y   | ever beheld, and with whom they were particularly
121:124,29@y   | anxious to be better acquainted. ~~
121:124,29['  ]| And to be better
121:124,30['  ]| acquainted therefore, Elinor soon found was their
121:124,31['  ]| inevitable lot, for as Sir*John was entirely on the side
121:124,32['  ]| of the Miss*Steeles, their party would be too strong for
121:124,33['  ]| opposition, and that kind of intimacy must be submitted
121:124,34['  ]| to, which consists of sitting an hour or two together in
121:124,35['  ]| the same room almost every day.  Sir*John could do no
121:124,36['  ]| more; but he did not know that any more was required;
121:124,37['  ]| to be together was, in his opinion, to be intimate, and
121:124,38['  ]| while his continual schemes for their meeting were
121:125,01['  ]| effectual, he had not a doubt of their being established
121:125,02['  ]| friends.
121:125,03['  ]| To do him justice, he did every*thing in his power
121:125,04['  ]| to promote their unreserve, by making the Miss*Steeles
121:125,05['  ]| acquainted with whatever he knew or supposed of his
121:125,06['  ]| cousins' situations in the most delicate particulars, ~~
121:125,07['  ]| and Elinor had not seen them more than twice, before
121:125,08['  ]| the eldest of them wished her joy on her sister's having
121:125,09['  ]| been so lucky as to make a conquest of a very smart
121:125,10['  ]| beau since she came to Barton.
121:125,11[P  ]| "'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so young
121:125,12[P  ]| to be sure,"
121:125,12['  ]| said she,
121:125,12[P  ]| "and I hear he is quite a beau,
121:125,13[P  ]| and prodigious handsome.  And I hope you may have
121:125,14[P  ]| as good luck yourself soon, ~~ but perhaps you may have
121:125,15[P  ]| a friend in the corner already."
121:125,16['  ]| Elinor could not suppose that Sir*John would be more
121:125,17['  ]| nice in proclaiming his suspicions of her regard for
121:125,18['  ]| Edward, than he had been with respect to Marianne;
121:125,19['  ]| indeed it was rather his favourite joke of the two, as
121:125,20['  ]| being somewhat newer and more conjectural; and since
121:125,21['  ]| Edward's visit, they had never dined together, without
121:125,22['  ]| his drinking to her best affections with so much significancy
121:125,23['  ]| and so many nods and winks, as to excite general
121:125,24['  ]| attention.  The letter F*** had been likewise invariably
121:125,25['  ]| brought forward, and found productive of such countless
121:125,26['  ]| jokes, that its character as the wittiest letter in the
121:125,27['  ]| alphabet had been long established with Elinor.
121:125,28['  ]| The Miss*Steeles, as she expected, had now all the
121:125,29['  ]| benefit of these jokes, and in the eldest of them they
121:125,30['  ]| raised a curiosity to know the name of the gentleman
121:125,31['  ]| alluded to, which, though often impertinently expressed,
121:125,32['  ]| was perfectly of a piece with her general inquisitiveness
121:125,33['  ]| into the concerns of their family.  But Sir*John did not
121:125,34['  ]| sport long with the curiosity which he delighted to
121:125,35['  ]| raise, for he had at least as much pleasure in telling
121:125,36['  ]| the name, as Miss*Steele had in hearing it.
121:125,37[L  ]| "His name is Ferrars,"
121:125,37['  ]| said he, in a very audible
121:125,38['  ]| whisper;
121:125,38[L  ]| "but pray do not tell it, for it's a great secret."
121:126,01[P  ]| "Ferrars!"
121:126,01['  ]| repeated Miss*Steele;
121:126,01[P  ]| "Mr%*Ferrars is
121:126,02[P  ]| the happy man, is he?  What! your sister-in-law's
121:126,03[P  ]| brother, Miss*Dashwood? a very agreeable young man
121:126,04[P  ]| to be sure; I know him very well."
121:126,05[Q  ]| "How can you say so, Anne?"
121:126,05['  ]| cried Lucy, who
121:126,06['  ]| generally made an amendment to all her sister's assertions.
121:126,07[Q  ]| "Though we have seen him once or twice at
121:126,08[Q  ]| my uncle's, it is rather too much to pretend to know him
121:126,09[Q  ]| very well."
121:126,10['  ]| Elinor heard all this with attention and surprise.
121:126,11@a   | "And who was this uncle?  Where did he live?  How
121:126,12@a   | came they acquainted?"
121:126,12['  ]| She wished very much to
121:126,13['  ]| have the subject continued, though she did not chuse
121:126,14['  ]| to join in it herself; but nothing more of it was said,
121:126,15['  ]| and for the first time in her life, she thought Mrs%*Jennings
121:126,16['  ]| deficient either in curiosity after petty information,
121:126,17['  ]| or in a disposition to communicate it.  The manner
121:126,18['  ]| in which Miss*Steele had spoken of Edward, increased
121:126,19['  ]| her curiosity; for it struck her as being rather ill-natured,
121:126,20['  ]| and suggested the suspicion of that lady's
121:126,21['  ]| knowing, or fancying herself to know something to
121:126,22['  ]| his disadvantage. ~~ But her curiosity was unavailing,
121:126,23['  ]| for no farther notice was taken of Mr%*Ferrars's name by
121:126,24['  ]| Miss*Steele when alluded to, or even openly mentioned
121:126,25['  ]| by Sir*John.
122:127,01['  ]| Marianne, who had never much toleration for any*thing
122:127,02['  ]| like impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts,
122:127,03['  ]| or even difference of taste from herself, was at this time
122:127,04['  ]| particularly ill-disposed, from the state of her spirits,
122:127,05['  ]| to be pleased with the Miss*Steeles, or to encourage
122:127,06['  ]| their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her
122:127,07['  ]| behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour
122:127,08['  ]| at intimacy on their side, Elinor principally attributed
122:127,09['  ]| that preference of herself which soon became evident
122:127,10['  ]| in the manners of both, but especially of Lucy, who
122:127,11['  ]| missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation,
122:127,12['  ]| or of striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy
122:127,13['  ]| and frank communication of her sentiments.
122:127,14['  ]| Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often
122:127,15['  ]| just and amusing; and as a companion for half an hour
122:127,16['  ]| Elinor frequently found her agreeable; but her powers
122:127,17['  ]| had received no aid from education, she was ignorant
122:127,18['  ]| and illiterate, and her deficiency of all mental improvement,
122:127,19['  ]| her want of information in the most common
122:127,20['  ]| particulars, could not be concealed from Miss*Dashwood,
122:127,21['  ]| in spite of her constant endeavour to appear to advantage.
122:127,22['  ]| Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of
122:127,23['  ]| abilities which education might have rendered so respectable;
122:127,24['  ]| but she saw, with less tenderness of feeling,
122:127,25['  ]| the thorough want of delicacy, of rectitude, and integrity
122:127,26['  ]| of mind, which her attentions, her assiduities, her
122:127,27['  ]| flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have no
122:127,28['  ]| lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who
122:127,29['  ]| joined insincerity with ignorance; whose want of
122:127,30['  ]| instruction prevented their meeting in conversation on
122:127,31['  ]| terms of equality, and whose conduct towards others,
122:127,32['  ]| made every shew of attention and deference towards
122:127,33['  ]| herself perfectly valueless.
122:128,01[Q  ]| "You will think my question an odd one, I dare say,"
122:128,02['  ]| said Lucy to her one day as they were walking together
122:128,03['  ]| from the park to the cottage ~~
122:128,03[Q  ]| "but, pray, are you
122:128,04[Q  ]| personally acquainted with your sister-in-law's mother,
122:128,05[Q  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars?"
122:128,06['  ]| Elinor \did\ think the question a very odd one, and her
122:128,07['  ]| countenance expressed it, as she answered that she had
122:128,08['  ]| never seen Mrs%*Ferrars.
122:128,09[Q  ]| "Indeed!"
122:128,09['  ]| replied Lucy;
122:128,09[Q  ]| "I wonder at that, for
122:128,10[Q  ]| I thought you must have seen her at Norland sometimes.
122:128,11[Q  ]| Then perhaps you cannot tell me what sort of a woman
122:128,12[Q  ]| she is?"
122:128,13[A  ]| "No;"
122:128,13['  ]| returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real
122:128,14['  ]| opinion of Edward's mother, and not very desirous of
122:128,15['  ]| satisfying, what seemed impertinent curiosity ~~
122:128,15[A  ]| "I know
122:128,16[A  ]| nothing of her."
122:128,17[Q  ]| "I am sure you think me very strange, for inquiring
122:128,18[Q  ]| about her in such a way;"
122:128,18['  ]| said Lucy, eyeing Elinor
122:128,19['  ]| attentively as she spoke;
122:128,19[Q  ]| "but perhaps there may be
122:128,20[Q  ]| reasons ~~ I wish I might venture; but however I hope
122:128,21[Q  ]| you will do me the justice of believing that I do not
122:128,22[Q  ]| mean to be impertinent."
122:128,23['  ]| Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on
122:128,24['  ]| for a few minutes in silence.  It was broken by Lucy,
122:128,25['  ]| who renewed the subject again by saying with some
122:128,26['  ]| hesitation.
122:128,27[Q  ]| "I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently
122:128,28[Q  ]| curious.  I am sure I would rather do any*thing in the
122:128,29[Q  ]| world than be thought so by a person whose good opinion
122:128,30[Q  ]| is so well worth having as yours.  And I am sure I
122:128,31[Q  ]| should not have the smallest fear of trusting \you\;
122:128,32[Q  ]| indeed I should be very glad of your advice how to
122:128,33[Q  ]| manage in such an uncomfortable situation as I am;
122:128,34[Q  ]| but however there is no occasion to trouble \you\.  I am
122:128,35[Q  ]| sorry you do not happen to know Mrs%*Ferrars."
122:128,36[A  ]| "I am sorry I do \not\,"
122:128,36['  ]| said Elinor, in great astonishment,
122:128,37[A  ]| "if it could be of any use to \you\ to know my
122:128,38[A  ]| opinion of her.  But really, I never understood that you
122:129,01[A  ]| were at all connected with that family, and therefore
122:129,02[A  ]| I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry
122:129,03[A  ]| into her character."
122:129,04[Q  ]| "I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all
122:129,05[Q  ]| wonder at it.  But if I dared tell you all, you would not
122:129,06[Q  ]| be so much surprised.  Mrs%*Ferrars is certainly nothing
122:129,07[Q  ]| to me at present, ~~ but the time \may\ come ~~ how soon
122:129,08[Q  ]| it will come must depend upon herself ~~ when we may
122:129,09[Q  ]| be very intimately connected."
122:129,10['  ]| She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful,
122:129,11['  ]| with only one side glance at her companion to observe
122:129,12['  ]| its effect on her.
122:129,13[A  ]| "Good heavens!"
122:129,13['  ]| cried Elinor,
122:129,13[A  ]| "what do you mean?
122:129,14[A  ]| Are you acquainted with Mr%*Robert*Ferrars?  Can you
122:129,15[A  ]| be ~~ ?"
122:129,15['  ]| And she did not feel much delighted with
122:129,16['  ]| the idea of such a sister-in-law.
122:129,17[Q  ]| "No;"
122:129,17['  ]| replied Lucy,
122:129,17[Q  ]| "not to Mr%*\Robert\*Ferrars ~~
122:129,18[Q  ]| I never saw him in my life; but,"
122:129,18['  ]| fixing her eyes upon
122:129,19['  ]| Elinor,
122:129,19[Q  ]| "to his elder brother."
122:129,20['  ]| What felt Elinor at that moment?  Astonishment,
122:129,21['  ]| that would have been as painful as it was strong, had
122:129,22['  ]| not an immediate disbelief of the assertion attended it.
122:129,23['  ]| She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement, unable
122:129,24['  ]| to divine the reason or object of such a declaration, and
122:129,25['  ]| though her complexion varied, she stood firm in
122:129,26['  ]| incredulity and felt in no danger of an hysterical fit,
122:129,27['  ]| or a swoon.
122:129,28[Q  ]| "You may well be surprised,"
122:129,28['  ]| continued Lucy;
122:129,28[Q  ]| "for
122:129,29[Q  ]| to be sure you could have had no idea of it before; for
122:129,30[Q  ]| I dare say he never dropped the smallest hint of it to
122:129,31[Q  ]| you or any of your family; because it was always
122:129,32[Q  ]| meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been
122:129,33[Q  ]| faithfully kept so by me to this hour.  Not a soul of
122:129,34[Q  ]| all my relations know of it but Anne, and I never should
122:129,35[Q  ]| have mentioned it to you, if I had not felt the greatest
122:129,36[Q  ]| dependance in the world upon your secrecy; and I really
122:129,37[Q  ]| thought my behaviour in asking so many questions
122:129,38[Q  ]| about Mrs%*Ferrars, must seem so odd, that it ought to
122:130,01[Q  ]| be explained.  And I do not think Mr%*Ferrars can be
122:130,02[Q  ]| displeased, when he knows I have trusted you, because
122:130,03[Q  ]| I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all
122:130,04[Q  ]| your family, and looks upon yourself and the other
122:130,05[Q  ]| Miss*Dashwoods, quite as his own sisters." ~~
122:130,05['  ]| She paused.
122:130,06['  ]| Elinor for a few moments remained silent.  Her
122:130,07['  ]| astonishment at what she heard was at first too great
122:130,08['  ]| for words; but at length forcing herself to speak, and
122:130,09['  ]| to speak cautiously, she said with a calmness of manner,
122:130,10['  ]| which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude
122:130,11[A  ]| ~~ "May I ask if your engagement is of long standing?"
122:130,12[Q  ]| "We have been engaged these four years."
122:130,13[A  ]| "Four years!"
122:130,14[Q  ]| "Yes."
122:130,15['  ]| Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to
122:130,16['  ]| believe it.
122:130,17[A  ]| "I did not know,"
122:130,17['  ]| said she,
122:130,17[A  ]| "that you were even
122:130,18[A  ]| acquainted till the other day."
122:130,19[Q  ]| "Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date.
122:130,20[Q  ]| He was under my uncle's care, you know, a considerable
122:130,21[Q  ]| while."
122:130,22[A  ]| "Your uncle!"
122:130,23[Q  ]| "Yes; Mr%*Pratt.  Did you never hear him talk of
122:130,24[Q  ]| Mr%*Pratt?"
122:130,25[A  ]| "I think I have,"
122:130,25['  ]| replied Elinor, with an exertion
122:130,26['  ]| of spirits, which increased with her increase of emotion.
122:130,27[Q  ]| "He was four years with my uncle, who lives at
122:130,28[Q  ]| Longstaple, near Plymouth.  It was there our acquaintance
122:130,29[Q  ]| begun, for my sister and me was often staying
122:130,30[Q  ]| with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was
122:130,31[Q  ]| formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as
122:130,32[Q  ]| a pupil; but he was almost always with us afterwards.
122:130,33[Q  ]| I was very unwilling to enter into it, as you may
122:130,34[Q  ]| imagine, without the knowledge and approbation
122:130,35[Q  ]| of his mother; but I was too young and loved
122:130,36[Q  ]| him too well to be so prudent as I ought to have
122:130,37[Q  ]| been. ~~ Though you do not know him so well as me,
122:130,38[Q  ]| Miss*Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to
122:131,01[Q  ]| be sensible he is very capable of making a woman
122:131,02[Q  ]| sincerely attached to him."
122:131,03[A  ]| "Certainly,"
122:131,03['  ]| answered Elinor, without knowing what
122:131,04['  ]| she said; but after a moment's reflection, she added
122:131,05['  ]| with revived security of Edward's honour and love,
122:131,06['  ]| and her companion's falsehood ~~
122:131,06[A  ]| "Engaged to Mr%*Edward*Ferrars!
122:131,07[A  ]| ~~ I confess myself so totally surprised
122:131,08[A  ]| at what you tell me, that really ~~ I beg your pardon;
122:131,09[A  ]| but surely there must be some mistake of person or
122:131,10[A  ]| name.  We cannot mean the same Mr%*Ferrars."
122:131,11[Q  ]| "We can mean no other,"
122:131,11['  ]| cried Lucy smiling.
122:131,12[Q  ]| "Mr%*Edward*Ferrars, the eldest son of Mrs%*Ferrars of
122:131,13[Q  ]| Park-street, and brother of your sister-in-law, Mrs%*John*Dashwood,
122:131,14[Q  ]| is the person I mean; you must allow that
122:131,15[Q  ]| \I\ am not likely to be deceived, as to the name of the man
122:131,16[Q  ]| on who all my happiness depends."
122:131,17[A  ]| "It is strange,"
122:131,17['  ]| replied Elinor in a most painful
122:131,18['  ]| perplexity,
122:131,18[A  ]| "that I should never have heard him even
122:131,19[A  ]| mention your name."
122:131,20[Q  ]| "No; considering our situation, it was not strange.
122:131,21[Q  ]| Our first care has been to keep the matter secret. ~~ You
122:131,22[Q  ]| knew nothing of me, or my family, and therefore there
122:131,23[Q  ]| could be no \occasion\ for ever mentioning my name to
122:131,24[Q  ]| you, and as he was always particularly afraid of his
122:131,25[Q  ]| sister's suspecting any*thing, \that\ was reason enough
122:131,26[Q  ]| for his not mentioning it."
122:131,27['  ]| She was silent. ~~ Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command
122:131,28['  ]| did not sink with it.
122:131,29[A  ]| "Four years you have been engaged,"
122:131,29['  ]| said she with
122:131,30['  ]| a firm voice.
122:131,31[Q  ]| "Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may
122:131,32[Q  ]| have to wait.  Poor Edward!  It puts him quite out
122:131,33[Q  ]| of heart."
122:131,33['  ]| Then taking a small miniature from her
122:131,34['  ]| pocket, she added,
122:131,34[Q  ]| "To prevent the possibility of
122:131,35[Q  ]| mistake, be so good as to look at this face.  It does not
122:131,36[Q  ]| do him justice to be sure, but yet I think you cannot be
122:131,37[Q  ]| deceived as to the person it was drew of. ~~ I have had
122:131,38[Q  ]| it above these three years."
122:132,01['  ]| She put it into her hands as she spoke, and when
122:132,02['  ]| Elinor saw the painting, whatever other doubts her fear
122:132,03['  ]| of a too hasty decision, or her wish of detecting falsehood
122:132,04['  ]| might suffer to linger in her mind, she could have none
122:132,05['  ]| of its being Edward's face.  She returned it almost
122:132,06['  ]| instantly, acknowledging the likeness.
122:132,07[Q  ]| "I have never been able,"
122:132,07['  ]| continued Lucy,
122:132,07[Q  ]| "to give
122:132,08[Q  ]| him my picture in return, which I am very much
122:132,09[Q  ]| vexed at, for he has been always so anxious to get it!
122:132,10[Q  ]| But I am determined to set for it the very first opportunity."
122:132,11[Q  ]|
122:132,12[A  ]| "You are quite in the right;"
122:132,12['  ]| replied Elinor calmly.
122:132,13['  ]| They then proceeded a few paces in silence.  Lucy
122:132,14['  ]| spoke first.
122:132,15[Q  ]| "I am sure,"
122:132,15['  ]| said she,
122:132,15[Q  ]| "I have no doubt in the world
122:132,16[Q  ]| of your faithfully keeping this secret, because you must
122:132,17[Q  ]| know of what importance it is to us, not to have it
122:132,18[Q  ]| reach his mother; for she would never approve of it,
122:132,19[Q  ]| I dare say.  I shall have no fortune, and I fancy she is
122:132,20[Q  ]| an exceeding proud woman."
122:132,21[A  ]| "I certainly did not seek your confidence,"
122:132,21['  ]| said
122:132,22['  ]| Elinor;
122:132,22[A  ]| "but you do me no more than justice in
122:132,23[A  ]| imagining that I may be depended on.  Your secret
122:132,24[A  ]| is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some
122:132,25[A  ]| surprise at so unnecessary a communication.  You must
122:132,26[A  ]| at least have felt that my being acquainted with it
122:132,27[A  ]| could not add to its safety."
122:132,28['  ]| As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping
122:132,29['  ]| to discover something in her countenance; perhaps the
122:132,30['  ]| falsehood of the greatest part of what she had been
122:132,31['  ]| saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no change.
122:132,32[Q  ]| "I was afraid you would think I was taking a great
122:132,33[Q  ]| liberty with you,"
122:132,33['  ]| said she,
122:132,33[Q  ]| "in telling you all this.
122:132,34[Q  ]| I have not known you long to be sure, personally at
122:132,35[Q  ]| least, but I have known you and all your family by
122:132,36[Q  ]| description a great while; and as soon as I saw you,
122:132,37[Q  ]| I felt almost as if you was an old acquaintance.  Besides
122:132,38[Q  ]| in the present case, I really thought some explanation
122:133,01[Q  ]| was due to you after my making such particular inquiries
122:133,02[Q  ]| about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate,
122:133,03[Q  ]| that I have not a creature whose advice I can ask.  Anne
122:133,04[Q  ]| is the only person that knows of it, and she has no
122:133,05[Q  ]| judgment at all; indeed she does me a great deal more
122:133,06[Q  ]| harm than good, for I am in constant fear of her betraying
122:133,07[Q  ]| me.  She does not know how to hold her tongue,
122:133,08[Q  ]| as you must perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest
122:133,09[Q  ]| fright in the world t'other day, when Edward's name
122:133,10[Q  ]| was mentioned by Sir*John, lest she should out with it
122:133,11[Q  ]| all.  You can't think how much I go through in my mind
122:133,12[Q  ]| from it altogether.  I only wonder that I am alive after
122:133,13[Q  ]| what I have suffered for Edward's sake these last four
122:133,14[Q  ]| years.  Every*thing in such suspense and uncertainty;
122:133,15[Q  ]| and seeing him so seldom ~~ we can hardly meet above
122:133,16[Q  ]| twice a-year.  I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite
122:133,17[Q  ]| broke."
122:133,18['  ]| Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did
122:133,19['  ]| not feel very compassionate.
122:133,20[Q  ]| "Sometimes,"
122:133,20['  ]| continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes,
122:133,21[Q  ]| "I think whether it would not be better for us both, to
122:133,22[Q  ]| break off the matter entirely."
122:133,22['  ]| As she said this, she
122:133,23['  ]| looked directly at her companion.
122:133,23[Q  ]| "But then at other
122:133,24[Q  ]| times I have not resolution enough for it. ~~ I cannot
122:133,25[Q  ]| bear the thoughts of making him so miserable, as I
122:133,26[Q  ]| know the very mention of such a thing would do.  And
122:133,27[Q  ]| on my own account too ~~ so dear as he is to me ~~ I
122:133,28[Q  ]| don't think I could be equal to it.  What would you
122:133,29[Q  ]| advise me to do in such a case, Miss*Dashwood?  What
122:133,30[Q  ]| would you do yourself?"
122:133,31[A  ]| "Pardon me,"
122:133,31['  ]| replied Elinor, startled by the question;
122:133,32[A  ]| "but I can give you no advice under such circumstances.
122:133,33[A  ]| Your own judgment must direct you."
122:133,34[Q  ]| "To be sure,"
122:133,34['  ]| continued Lucy, after a few minutes
122:133,35['  ]| silence on both sides,
122:133,35[Q  ]| "his mother must provide for
122:133,36[Q  ]| him sometime or other; but poor Edward is so cast
122:133,37[Q  ]| down about it!  Did not you think him dreadful low-spirited
122:133,38[Q  ]| when he was at Barton?  He was so miserable
122:134,01[Q  ]| when he left us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was
122:134,02[Q  ]| afraid you would think him quite ill."
122:134,03[A  ]| "Did he come from your uncle's then, when he
122:134,04[A  ]| visited us?"
122:134,05[Q  ]| "Oh! yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us.
122:134,06[Q  ]| Did you think he came directly from town?"
122:134,07[A  ]| "No,"
122:134,07['  ]| replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every
122:134,08['  ]| fresh circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity;
122:134,08[A  ]| "I
122:134,09[A  ]| remember he told us, that he had been staying a fortnight
122:134,10[A  ]| with some friends near Plymouth."
122:134,10['  ]| She remembered
122:134,11['  ]| too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning
122:134,12['  ]| nothing farther of those friends, at his total silence with
122:134,13['  ]| respect even to their names.
122:134,14[Q  ]| "Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?"
122:134,15['  ]| repeated Lucy.
122:134,16[A  ]| "We did indeed, particularly so when he first arrived."
122:134,17[Q  ]| "I begged him to exert himself for fear you should
122:134,18[Q  ]| suspect what was the matter; but it made him so
122:134,19[Q  ]| melancholy, not being able to stay more than a fortnight
122:134,20[Q  ]| with us, and seeing me so much affected. ~~ Poor fellow!
122:134,21[Q  ]| ~~ I am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he
122:134,22[Q  ]| writes in wretched spirits.  I heard from him just before
122:134,23[Q  ]| I left Exeter;"
122:134,23['  ]| taking a letter from her pocket and
122:134,24['  ]| carelessly shewing the direction to Elinor.
122:134,24[Q  ]| "You know
122:134,25[Q  ]| his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but that is
122:134,26[Q  ]| not written so well as usual. ~~ He was tired, I dare say,
122:134,27[Q  ]| for he had just filled the sheet to me as full as possible."
122:134,28['  ]| Elinor saw that it \was\ his hand, and she could doubt
122:134,29['  ]| no longer.
122:134,29@a   | The picture,
122:134,29['  ]| she had allowed herself to
122:134,30['  ]| believe,
122:134,30@a   | might have been accidentally obtained; it
122:134,31@a   | might not have been Edward's gift; but a correspondence
122:134,32@a   | between them by letter, could subsist only under
122:134,33@a   | a positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing
122:134,34@a   | else;
122:134,34['  ]| for a few moments, she was almost overcome ~~ her
122:134,35['  ]| heart sunk within her, and she could hardly stand; but
122:134,36['  ]| exertion was indispensably necessary, and she struggled
122:134,37['  ]| so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that
122:134,38['  ]| her success was speedy, and for the time complete.
122:135,01[Q  ]| "Writing to each other,"
122:135,01['  ]| said Lucy, returning the
122:135,02['  ]| letter into her pocket,
122:135,02[Q  ]| "is the only comfort we have in
122:135,03[Q  ]| such long separations.  Yes, \I\ have one other comfort
122:135,04[Q  ]| in his picture; but poor Edward has not even \that\.
122:135,05[Q  ]| If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy.
122:135,06[Q  ]| I gave him a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was
122:135,07[Q  ]| at Longstaple last, and that was some comfort to him,
122:135,08[Q  ]| he said, but not equal to a picture.  Perhaps you might
122:135,09[Q  ]| notice the ring when you saw him?"
122:135,10[A  ]| "I did;"
122:135,10['  ]| said Elinor, with a composure of voice,
122:135,11['  ]| under which was concealed an emotion and distress
122:135,12['  ]| beyond any*thing she had ever felt before.  She was
122:135,13['  ]| mortified, shocked, confounded.
122:135,14['  ]| Fortunately for her, they had now reached the
122:135,15['  ]| cottage, and the conversation could be continued no
122:135,16['  ]| farther.  After sitting with them a few minutes, the
122:135,17['  ]| Miss*Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was then
122:135,18['  ]| at liberty to think and be wretched.
201:139,01['  ]| However small Elinor's general dependance on Lucy's
201:139,02['  ]| veracity might be, it was impossible for her on serious
201:139,03['  ]| reflection to suspect it in the present case, where no
201:139,04['  ]| temptation could be answerable to the folly of inventing
201:139,05['  ]| a falsehood of such a description.  What Lucy had
201:139,06['  ]| asserted to be true, therefore, Elinor could not, dared
201:139,07['  ]| not longer doubt; supported as it was too on every side
201:139,08['  ]| by such probabilities and proofs, and contradicted by
201:139,09['  ]| nothing but her own wishes.
201:139,09@a   | Their opportunity of
201:139,10@a   | acquaintance in the house of Mr%*Pratt was a foundation
201:139,11@a   | for the rest, at once indisputable and alarming; and
201:139,12@a   | Edward's visit near Plymouth, his melancholy state of
201:139,13@a   | mind, his dissatisfaction at his own prospects, his uncertain
201:139,14@a   | behaviour towards herself, the intimate knowledge
201:139,15@a   | of the Miss*Steeles as to Norland and their family connections,
201:139,16@a   | which had often surprised her, the picture, the
201:139,17@a   | letter, the ring, formed altogether such a body of
201:139,18@a   | evidence, as overcame every fear of condemning him
201:139,19@a   | unfairly, and established as a fact, which no partiality
201:139,20@a   | could set aside, his ill-treatment of herself. ~~
201:139,20['  ]| Her resentment
201:139,21['  ]| of such behaviour, her indignation at having been
201:139,22['  ]| its dupe, for a short time made her feel only for herself;
201:139,23['  ]| but other ideas, other considerations soon arose.
201:139,23@a   | Had
201:139,24@a   | Edward been intentionally deceiving her?  Had he
201:139,25@a   | feigned a regard for her which he did not feel?  Was
201:139,26@a   | his engagement to Lucy, an engagement of the heart?
201:139,27@a   | No; whatever it might once have been, she could not
201:139,28@a   | believe it such at present.  His affection was all her
201:139,29@a   | own.  She could not be deceived in that.  Her mother,
201:139,30@a   | sisters, Fanny, all had been conscious of his regard for
201:139,31@a   | her at Norland; it was not an illusion of her own vanity.
201:140,01@a   | He certainly loved her.  What a softener of the heart
201:140,02@a   | was this persuasion!  How much could it not tempt her
201:140,03@a   | to forgive!  He had been blameable, highly blameable,
201:140,04@a   | in remaining at Norland after he felt her influence
201:140,05@a   | over him to be more than it ought to be.  In that, he
201:140,06@a   | could not be defended; but if he had injured her, how
201:140,07@a   | much more had he injured himself; if her case were
201:140,08@a   | pitiable, his was hopeless.  His imprudence had made
201:140,09@a   | her miserable for a while; but it seemed to have deprived
201:140,10@a   | himself of all chance of ever being otherwise.  She might
201:140,11@a   | in time regain tranquillity; but \he\, what had he to look
201:140,12@a   | forward to?  Could he ever be tolerably happy with
201:140,13@a   | Lucy*Steele; could he, were his affection for herself out
201:140,14@a   | of the question, with his integrity, his delicacy, and
201:140,15@a   | well-informed mind, be satisfied with a wife like her ~~
201:140,16@a   | illiterate, artful, and selfish?
201:140,17@a   | The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally
201:140,18@a   | blind him to every*thing but her beauty and good*nature;
201:140,19@a   | but the four succeeding years ~~ years, which if
201:140,20@a   | rationally spent, give such improvement to the understanding,
201:140,21@a   | must have opened his eyes to her defects of
201:140,22@a   | education, while the same period of time, spent on her
201:140,23@a   | side in inferior society and more frivolous pursuits, had
201:140,24@a   | perhaps robbed her of that simplicity, which might once
201:140,25@a   | have given an interesting character to her beauty.
201:140,26@a   | If in the supposition of his seeking to marry herself,
201:140,27@a   | his difficulties from his mother had seemed great, how
201:140,28@a   | much greater were they now likely to be, when the
201:140,29@a   | object of his engagement was undoubtedly inferior in
201:140,30@a   | connections, and probably inferior in fortune to herself.
201:140,31@a   | These difficulties, indeed, with an heart so alienated
201:140,32@a   | from Lucy, might not press very hard upon his patience;
201:140,33@a   | but melancholy was the state of the person, by whom
201:140,34@a   | the expectation of family opposition and unkindness,
201:140,35@a   | could be felt as a relief!
201:140,36['  ]| As these considerations occurred to her in painful
201:140,37['  ]| succession, she wept for him, more than for herself.
201:140,38['  ]| Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to
201:141,01['  ]| merit her present unhappiness, and consoled by the
201:141,02['  ]| belief that Edward had done nothing to forfeit her
201:141,03['  ]| esteem, she thought she could even now, under the first
201:141,04['  ]| smart of the heavy blow, command herself enough to
201:141,05['  ]| guard every suspicion of the truth from her mother and
201:141,06['  ]| sisters.  And so well was she able to answer her own
201:141,07['  ]| expectations, that when she joined them at dinner only
201:141,08['  ]| two hours after she had first suffered the extinction of
201:141,09['  ]| all her dearest hopes, no*one would have supposed from
201:141,10['  ]| the appearance of the sisters, that Elinor was mourning
201:141,11['  ]| in secret over obstacles which must divide her for*ever from
201:141,12['  ]| the object of her love, and that Marianne was internally
201:141,13['  ]| dwelling on the perfections of a man, of whose whole heart
201:141,14['  ]| she felt thoroughly possessed, and whom she expected
201:141,15['  ]| to see in every carriage which drove near their house.
201:141,16['  ]| The necessity of concealing from her mother and
201:141,17['  ]| Marianne, what had been entrusted in confidence to
201:141,18['  ]| herself, though it obliged her to unceasing exertion, was
201:141,19['  ]| no aggravation of Elinor's distress.  On the contrary it
201:141,20['  ]| was a relief to her, to be spared the communication of
201:141,21['  ]| what would give such affliction to them, and to be saved
201:141,22['  ]| likewise from hearing that condemnation of Edward,
201:141,23['  ]| which would probably flow from the excess of their
201:141,24['  ]| partial affection for herself, and which was more than
201:141,25['  ]| she felt equal to support.
201:141,26['  ]| From their counsel, or their conversation she knew
201:141,27['  ]| she could receive no assistance, their tenderness and
201:141,28['  ]| sorrow must add to her distress, while her self-command
201:141,29['  ]| would neither receive encouragement from their example
201:141,30['  ]| nor from their praise.  She was stronger alone, and her
201:141,31['  ]| own good sense so well supported her, that her firmness
201:141,32['  ]| was as unshaken, her appearance of cheerfulness as
201:141,33['  ]| invariable, as with regrets so poignant and so fresh, it
201:141,34['  ]| was possible for them to be.
201:141,35['  ]| Much as she had suffered from her first conversation
201:141,36['  ]| with Lucy on the subject, she soon felt an earnest wish
201:141,37['  ]| of renewing it; and this for more reasons than one.
201:141,38['  ]| She wanted to hear many particulars of their engagement
201:142,01['  ]| repeated again, she wanted more clearly to understand
201:142,02['  ]| what Lucy really felt for Edward, whether there were
201:142,03['  ]| any sincerity in her declaration of tender regard for
201:142,04['  ]| him, and she particularly wanted to convince Lucy, by
201:142,05['  ]| her readiness to enter on the matter again, and her calmness
201:142,06['  ]| in conversing on it, that she was no otherwise interested
201:142,07['  ]| in it than as a friend, which she very much feared her
201:142,08['  ]| involuntary agitation, in their morning discourse, must
201:142,09['  ]| have left at least doubtful.
201:142,09@a   | That Lucy was disposed to
201:142,10@a   | be jealous of her, appeared very probable; it was plain
201:142,11@a   | that Edward had always spoken highly in her praise,
201:142,12@a   | not merely from Lucy's assertion, but from her venturing
201:142,13@a   | to trust her on so short a personal acquaintance, with
201:142,14@a   | a secret, so confessedly and evidently important.  And
201:142,15@a   | even Sir*John's joking intelligence must have had some
201:142,16@a   | weight.
201:142,16['  ]| But indeed, while Elinor remained so well
201:142,17['  ]| assured within herself of being really beloved by Edward,
201:142,18['  ]| it required no other consideration of probabilities to
201:142,19['  ]| make it natural that Lucy should be jealous; and that
201:142,20['  ]| she was so, her very confidence was a proof.  What
201:142,21['  ]| other reason for the disclosure of the affair could there
201:142,22['  ]| be, but that Elinor might be informed by it of Lucy's
201:142,23['  ]| superior claims on Edward, and be taught to avoid him
201:142,24['  ]| in future?  She had little difficulty in understanding
201:142,25['  ]| thus much of her rival's intentions, and while she was
201:142,26['  ]| firmly resolved to act by her as every principle of honour
201:142,27['  ]| and honesty directed, to combat her own affection for
201:142,28['  ]| Edward and to see him as little as possible; she could
201:142,29['  ]| not deny herself the comfort of endeavouring to convince
201:142,30['  ]| Lucy that her heart was unwounded.  And as she could
201:142,31['  ]| now have nothing more painful to hear on the subject
201:142,32['  ]| than had already been told, she did not mistrust her
201:142,33['  ]| own ability of going through a repetition of particulars
201:142,34['  ]| with composure.
201:142,35['  ]| But it was not immediately that an opportunity of
201:142,36['  ]| doing so could be commanded, though Lucy was as well
201:142,37['  ]| disposed as herself to take advantage of any that
201:142,38['  ]| occurred; for the weather was not often fine enough
201:143,01['  ]| to allow of their joining in a walk, where they might
201:143,02['  ]| most easily separate themselves from the others; and
201:143,03['  ]| though they met at least every other evening either at
201:143,04['  ]| the park or cottage, and chiefly at the former, they
201:143,05['  ]| could not be supposed to meet for the sake of conversation.
201:143,06['  ]| Such a thought would never enter either Sir*John
201:143,07['  ]| or Lady*Middleton's head, and therefore very little
201:143,08['  ]| leisure was ever given for general chat, and none at all for
201:143,09['  ]| particular discourse.  They met for the sake of eating,
201:143,10['  ]| drinking, and laughing together, playing at cards, or consequences,
201:143,11['  ]| or any other game that was sufficiently noisy.
201:143,12['  ]| One or two meetings of this kind had taken place,
201:143,13['  ]| without affording Elinor any chance of engaging Lucy
201:143,14['  ]| in private, when Sir*John called at the cottage one
201:143,15['  ]| morning, to
201:143,15@l   | beg in the name of charity, that they would
201:143,16@l   | all dine with Lady*Middleton that day, as he was obliged
201:143,17@l   | to attend the club at Exeter, and she would otherwise
201:143,18@l   | be quite alone, except her mother and the two Miss*Steeles.
201:143,19['  ]| Elinor, who foresaw a fairer opening for the
201:143,20['  ]| point she had in view, in such a party as this was likely
201:143,21['  ]| to be, more at liberty among themselves under the
201:143,22['  ]| tranquil and well-bred direction of Lady*Middleton than
201:143,23['  ]| when her husband united them together in one noisy
201:143,24['  ]| purpose, immediately accepted the invitation; Margaret,
201:143,25['  ]| with her mother's permission, was equally compliant,
201:143,26['  ]| and Marianne, though always unwilling to join
201:143,27['  ]| any of their parties, was persuaded by her mother, who
201:143,28['  ]| could not bear to have her seclude herself from any
201:143,29['  ]| chance of amusement, to go likewise.
201:143,30['  ]| The young ladies went, and Lady*Middleton was
201:143,31['  ]| happily preserved from the frightful solitude which had
201:143,32['  ]| threatened her.  The insipidity of the meeting was
201:143,33['  ]| exactly such as Elinor had expected; it produced not
201:143,34['  ]| one novelty of thought or expression, and nothing could
201:143,35['  ]| be less interesting than the whole of their discourse both
201:143,36['  ]| in the dining*parlour and drawing*room:  to the latter,
201:143,37['  ]| the children accompanied them, and while they remained
201:143,38['  ]| there, she was too well convinced of the impossibility
201:144,01['  ]| of engaging Lucy's attention to attempt it.  They
201:144,02['  ]| quitted it only with the removal of the tea-things.  The
201:144,03['  ]| card-table was then placed, and Elinor began to wonder
201:144,04['  ]| at herself for having ever entertained a hope of finding
201:144,05['  ]| time for conversation at the park.  They all rose up in
201:144,06['  ]| preparation for a round*game.
201:144,07[M  ]| "I am glad,"
201:144,07['  ]| said Lady*Middleton to Lucy,
201:144,07[M  ]| "you
201:144,08[M  ]| are not going to finish poor little Annamaria's basket
201:144,09[M  ]| this evening; for I am sure it must hurt your eyes to
201:144,10[M  ]| work fillagree by candlelight.  And we will make the
201:144,11[M  ]| dear little love some amends for her disappointment
201:144,12[M  ]| to-morrow, and then I hope she will not much mind it."
201:144,13['  ]| This hint was enough, Lucy recollected herself instantly
201:144,14['  ]| and replied,
201:144,14[Q  ]| "Indeed you are very much mistaken,
201:144,15[Q  ]| Lady*Middleton; I am only waiting to know
201:144,16[Q  ]| whether you can make your party without me, or
201:144,17[Q  ]| I should have been at my fillagree already.  I would
201:144,18[Q  ]| not disappoint the little angel for all the world, and if
201:144,19[Q  ]| you want me at the card-table now, I am resolved to
201:144,20[Q  ]| finish the basket after supper."
201:144,21[M  ]| "You are very good, I hope it won't hurt your eyes ~~
201:144,22[M  ]| will you ring the bell for some working candles?  My
201:144,23[M  ]| poor little girl would be sadly disappointed, I know, if
201:144,24[M  ]| the basket was not finished to-morrow, for though I told
201:144,25[M  ]| her it certainly would not, I am sure she depends upon
201:144,26[M  ]| having it done."
201:144,27['  ]| Lucy directly drew her work*table near her and
201:144,28['  ]| reseated herself with an alacrity and cheerfulness which
201:144,29['  ]| seemed to infer that she could taste no greater delight
201:144,30['  ]| than in making a fillagree basket for a spoilt child.
201:144,31['  ]| Lady*Middleton proposed a rubber of Casino to the
201:144,32['  ]| others.  No*one made any objection but Marianne, who,
201:144,33['  ]| with her usual inattention to the forms of general
201:144,34['  ]| civility, exclaimed,
201:144,34[C  ]| "Your ladyship will have the goodness
201:144,35[C  ]| to excuse \me\ ~~ you know I detest cards.  I shall go
201:144,36[C  ]| to the piano-forte=; I have not touched it since it was
201:144,37[C  ]| tuned."
201:144,37['  ]| And without farther ceremony, she turned
201:144,38['  ]| away and walked to the instrument.
201:145,01['  ]| Lady*Middleton looked as if she thanked heaven that
201:145,02['  ]| \she\ had never made so rude a speech.
201:145,03[A  ]| "Marianne can never keep long from that instrument
201:145,04[A  ]| you know, ma'am,"
201:145,04['  ]| said Elinor, endeavouring to smooth
201:145,05['  ]| away the offence;
201:145,05[A  ]| "and I do not much wonder at it;
201:145,06[A  ]| for it is the very best*toned piano-forte= I ever heard."
201:145,07['  ]| The remaining five were now to draw their cards.
201:145,08[A  ]| "Perhaps,"
201:145,08['  ]| continued Elinor,
201:145,08[A  ]| "if I should happen to
201:145,09[A  ]| cut out, I may be of some use to Miss*Lucy*Steele, in
201:145,10[A  ]| rolling her papers for her; and there is so much still
201:145,11[A  ]| to be done to the basket, that it must be impossible
201:145,12[A  ]| I think for her labour singly, to finish it this evening.
201:145,13[A  ]| I should like the work exceedingly, if she would allow
201:145,14[A  ]| me a share in it."
201:145,15[Q  ]| "Indeed I shall be very much obliged to you for your
201:145,16[Q  ]| help,"
201:145,16['  ]| cried Lucy,
201:145,16[Q  ]| "for I find there is more to be done to
201:145,17[Q  ]| it than I thought there was; and it would be a shocking
201:145,18[Q  ]| thing to disappoint dear Annamaria after all."
201:145,19[P  ]| "Oh! that would be terrible indeed,"
201:145,19['  ]| said Miss*Steele ~~
201:145,20[P  ]| "Dear little soul, how I do love her!"
201:145,21[M  ]| "You are very kind,"
201:145,21['  ]| said Lady*Middleton to Elinor:
201:145,22[M  ]| "and as you really like the work, perhaps you will be
201:145,23[M  ]| as well pleased not to cut in till another rubber, or will
201:145,24[M  ]| you take your chance now?"
201:145,25['  ]| Elinor joyfully profited by the first of these proposals,
201:145,26['  ]| and thus by a little of that address, which Marianne
201:145,27['  ]| could never condescend to practise, gained her own end,
201:145,28['  ]| and pleased Lady*Middleton at the same time.  Lucy
201:145,29['  ]| made room for her with ready attention, and the two
201:145,30['  ]| fair rivals were thus seated side by side at the same
201:145,31['  ]| table, and with the utmost harmony engaged in forwarding
201:145,32['  ]| the same work.  The piano-forte=, at which
201:145,33['  ]| Marianne, wrapt up in her own music and her own
201:145,34['  ]| thoughts, had by this time forgotten that any*body was
201:145,35['  ]| in the room besides herself, was luckily so near them
201:145,36['  ]| that Miss*Dashwood now judged, she might safely, under
201:145,37['  ]| the shelter of its noise, introduce the interesting subject,
201:145,38['  ]| without any risk of being heard at the card-table.
202:146,01['  ]| In a firm, though cautious tone, Elinor thus began.
202:146,02[A  ]| "I should be undeserving of the confidence you have
202:146,03[A  ]| honoured me with, if I felt no desire for its continuance,
202:146,04[A  ]| or no farther curiosity on its subject.  I will not apologize
202:146,05[A  ]| therefore for bringing it forward again."
202:146,06[Q  ]| "Thank you,"
202:146,06['  ]| cried Lucy warmly,
202:146,06[Q  ]| "for breaking the
202:146,07[Q  ]| ice; you have set my heart at ease by it; for I was
202:146,08[Q  ]| somehow or other afraid I had offended you by what
202:146,09[Q  ]| I told you that Monday."
202:146,10[A  ]| "Offended me!  How could you suppose so?  Believe
202:146,11[A  ]| me,"
202:146,11['  ]| and Elinor spoke it with the truest sincerity,
202:146,12[A  ]| "nothing could be farther from my intention, than to
202:146,13[A  ]| give you such an idea.  Could you have a motive for
202:146,14[A  ]| the trust, that was not honourable and flattering to
202:146,15[A  ]| me?"
202:146,16[Q  ]| "And yet I do assure you,"
202:146,16['  ]| replied Lucy, her little
202:146,17['  ]| sharp eyes full of meaning,
202:146,17[Q  ]| "there seemed to me to be
202:146,18[Q  ]| a coldness and displeasure in your manner, that made
202:146,19[Q  ]| me quite uncomfortable.  I felt sure that you was angry
202:146,20[Q  ]| with me; and have been quarrelling with myself ever
202:146,21[Q  ]| since, for having took such a liberty as to trouble you
202:146,22[Q  ]| with my affairs.  But I am very glad to find it was only
202:146,23[Q  ]| my own fancy, and that you do not really blame me.
202:146,24[Q  ]| If you knew what a consolation it was to me to relieve
202:146,25[Q  ]| my heart by speaking to you of what I am always
202:146,26[Q  ]| thinking of every moment of my life, your compassion
202:146,27[Q  ]| would make you overlook every*thing else I am sure."
202:146,28[A  ]| "Indeed I can easily believe that it was a very great
202:146,29[A  ]| relief to you, to acknowledge your situation to me, and
202:146,30[A  ]| be assured that you shall never have reason to repent
202:146,31[A  ]| it.  Your case is a very unfortunate one; you seem to
202:146,32[A  ]| me to be surrounded with difficulties, and you will have
202:146,33[A  ]| need of all your mutual affection to support you under
202:147,01[A  ]| them.  Mr%*Ferrars, I believe, is entirely dependent on
202:147,02[A  ]| his mother."
202:147,03[Q  ]| "He has only two thousand pounds of his own; it
202:147,04[Q  ]| would be madness to marry upon that, though for my
202:147,05[Q  ]| own part, I could give up every prospect of more without
202:147,06[Q  ]| a sigh.  I have been always used to a very small income,
202:147,07[Q  ]| and could struggle with any poverty for him; but I love
202:147,08[Q  ]| him too well to be the selfish means of robbing him,
202:147,09[Q  ]| perhaps, of all that his mother might give him if he
202:147,10[Q  ]| married to please her.  We must wait, it may be for
202:147,11[Q  ]| many years.  With almost every other man in the world,
202:147,12[Q  ]| it would be an alarming prospect; but Edward's
202:147,13[Q  ]| affection and constancy nothing can deprive me of
202:147,14[Q  ]| I know."
202:147,15[A  ]| "That conviction must be every*thing to you; and
202:147,16[A  ]| he is undoubtedly supported by the same trust in your's.
202:147,17[A  ]| If the strength of your reciprocal attachment had failed,
202:147,18[A  ]| as between many people and under many circumstances
202:147,19[A  ]| it naturally would during a four years' engagement, your
202:147,20[A  ]| situation would have been pitiable indeed."
202:147,21['  ]| Lucy here looked up; but Elinor was careful in
202:147,22['  ]| guarding her countenance from every expression that
202:147,23['  ]| could give her words a suspicious tendency.
202:147,24[Q  ]| "Edward's love for me,"
202:147,24['  ]| said Lucy,
202:147,24[Q  ]| "has been pretty
202:147,25[Q  ]| well put to the test, by our long, very long absence
202:147,26[Q  ]| since we were first engaged, and it has stood the trial
202:147,27[Q  ]| so well, that I should be unpardonable to doubt it now.
202:147,28[Q  ]| I can safely say that he has never gave me one moment's
202:147,29[Q  ]| alarm on that account from the first."
202:147,30['  ]| Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at this
202:147,31['  ]| assertion.
202:147,32['  ]| Lucy went on.
202:147,32[Q  ]| "I am rather of a jealous temper too
202:147,33[Q  ]| by nature, and from our different situations in life, from
202:147,34[Q  ]| his being so much more in the world than me, and our
202:147,35[Q  ]| continual separation, I was enough inclined for suspicion,
202:147,36[Q  ]| to have found out the truth in an instant, if there had
202:147,37[Q  ]| been the slightest alteration in his behaviour to me when
202:147,38[Q  ]| we met, or any lowness of spirits that I could not account
202:148,01[Q  ]| for, or if he had talked more of one lady than another,
202:148,02[Q  ]| or seemed in any respect less happy at Longstaple than
202:148,03[Q  ]| he used to be.  I do not mean to say that I am particularly
202:148,04[Q  ]| observant or quick-sighted in general, but in
202:148,05[Q  ]| such a case I am sure I could not be deceived."
202:148,06[A  ]| "All this,"
202:148,06['  ]| thought Elinor,
202:148,06[A  ]| "is very pretty; but it
202:148,07[A  ]| can impose upon neither of us."
202:148,08[A  ]| "But what,"
202:148,08['  ]| said she after a short silence,
202:148,08[A  ]| "are your
202:148,09[A  ]| views?  or have you none but that of waiting for
202:148,10[A  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars's death, which is a melancholy and shocking
202:148,11[A  ]| extremity? ~~ Is her son determined to submit to this,
202:148,12[A  ]| and to all the tediousness of the many years of suspense
202:148,13[A  ]| in which it may involve you, rather than run the risk
202:148,14[A  ]| of her displeasure for a while by owning the truth?"
202:148,15[Q  ]| "If we could be certain that it would be only for
202:148,16[Q  ]| a while!  But Mrs%*Ferrars is a very headstrong proud
202:148,17[Q  ]| woman, and in her first fit of anger upon hearing it,
202:148,18[Q  ]| would very likely secure every*thing to Robert, and the
202:148,19[Q  ]| idea of that, for Edward's sake, frightens away all my
202:148,20[Q  ]| inclination for hasty measures."
202:148,21[A  ]| "And for your own sake too, or you are carrying
202:148,22[A  ]| your disinterestedness beyond reason."
202:148,23['  ]| Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent.
202:148,24[A  ]| "Do you know Mr%*Robert*Ferrars?"
202:148,24['  ]| asked Elinor.
202:148,25[Q  ]| "Not at all ~~ I never saw him; but I fancy he is
202:148,26[Q  ]| very unlike his brother ~~ silly and a great coxcomb."
202:148,27[P  ]| "A great coxcomb!"
202:148,27['  ]| repeated Miss*Steele, whose ear
202:148,28['  ]| had caught those words by a sudden pause in Marianne's
202:148,29['  ]| music. ~~
202:148,29[P  ]| "Oh! they are talking of their favourite beaux,
202:148,30[P  ]| I dare say."
202:148,31[Q  ]| "No, sister,"
202:148,31['  ]| cried Lucy,
202:148,31[Q  ]| "you are mistaken there,
202:148,32[Q  ]| our favourite beaux are \not\ great coxcombs."
202:148,33[K  ]| "I can answer for it that Miss*Dashwood's is not,"
202:148,34['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings, laughing heartily;
202:148,34[K  ]| "for he is one
202:148,35[K  ]| of the modestest, prettiest behaved young men I ever
202:148,36[K  ]| saw; but as for Lucy, she is such a sly little creature,
202:148,37[K  ]| there is no finding out who \she\ likes."
202:148,38[P  ]| "Oh!"
202:148,38['  ]| cried Miss*Steele, looking significantly round
202:149,01['  ]| at them,
202:149,01[P  ]| "I dare say Lucy's beau is quite as modest
202:149,02[P  ]| and pretty behaved as Miss*Dashwood's."
202:149,03['  ]| Elinor blushed in spite of herself.  Lucy bit her lip,
202:149,04['  ]| and looked angrily at her sister.  A mutual silence took
202:149,05['  ]| place for some time.  Lucy first put an end to it by
202:149,06['  ]| saying in a lower tone, though Marianne was then giving
202:149,07['  ]| them the powerful protection of a very magnificent
202:149,08['  ]| concerto ~~
202:149,09[Q  ]| "I will honestly tell you of one scheme which has
202:149,10[Q  ]| lately come into my head, for bringing matters to bear;
202:149,11[Q  ]| indeed I am bound to let you into the secret, for you
202:149,12[Q  ]| are a party concerned.  I dare say you have seen enough
202:149,13[Q  ]| of Edward to know that he would prefer the church to
202:149,14[Q  ]| every other profession; now my plan is that he should
202:149,15[Q  ]| take orders as soon as he can, and then through your
202:149,16[Q  ]| interest, which I am sure you would be kind enough to
202:149,17[Q  ]| use out of friendship for him, and I hope out of some
202:149,18[Q  ]| regard to me, your brother might be persuaded to give
202:149,19[Q  ]| him Norland living; which I understand is a very good
202:149,20[Q  ]| one, and the present incumbent not likely to live a great
202:149,21[Q  ]| while.  That would be enough for us to marry upon,
202:149,22[Q  ]| and we might trust to time and chance for the rest."
202:149,23[A  ]| "I should be always happy,"
202:149,23['  ]| replied Elinor,
202:149,23[A  ]| "to shew
202:149,24[A  ]| any mark of my esteem and friendship for Mr%*Ferrars;
202:149,25[A  ]| but do not you perceive that my interest on such an
202:149,26[A  ]| occasion would be perfectly unnecessary?  He is brother
202:149,27[A  ]| to Mrs%*John*Dashwood ~~ \that\ must be recommendation
202:149,28[A  ]| enough to her husband."
202:149,29[Q  ]| "But Mrs%*John*Dashwood would not much approve
202:149,30[Q  ]| of Edward's going into orders."
202:149,31[A  ]| "Then I rather suspect that my interest would do
202:149,32[A  ]| very little."
202:149,33['  ]| They were again silent for many minutes.  At length
202:149,34['  ]| Lucy exclaimed with a deep sigh,
202:149,35[Q  ]| "I believe it would be the wisest way to put an end
202:149,36[Q  ]| to the business at once by dissolving the engagement.
202:149,37[Q  ]| We seem so beset with difficulties on every side, that
202:149,38[Q  ]| though it would make us miserable for a time, we should
202:150,01[Q  ]| be happier perhaps in the end.  But you will not give
202:150,02[Q  ]| me your advice, Miss*Dashwood?"
202:150,03[A  ]| "No;"
202:150,03['  ]| answered Elinor, with a smile, which concealed
202:150,04['  ]| very agitated feelings,
202:150,04[A  ]| "on such a subject I certainly
202:150,05[A  ]| will not.  You know very well that my opinion
202:150,06[A  ]| would have no weight with you, unless it were on the
202:150,07[A  ]| side of your wishes."
202:150,08[Q  ]| "Indeed you wrong me,"
202:150,08['  ]| replied Lucy with great
202:150,09['  ]| solemnity;
202:150,09[Q  ]| "I know nobody of whose judgment I think
202:150,10[Q  ]| so highly as I do of yours; and I do really believe, that
202:150,11[Q  ]| if you was to say to me, ""I advise you by all means to
202:150,12[Q  ]| put an end to your engagement with Edward*Ferrars,
202:150,13[Q  ]| it will be more for the happiness of both of you,"" I should
202:150,14[Q  ]| resolve upon doing it immediately."
202:150,15['  ]| Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's future
202:150,16['  ]| wife, and replied,
202:150,16[A  ]| "this compliment would effectually
202:150,17[A  ]| frighten me from giving any opinion on the subject had
202:150,18[A  ]| I formed one.  It raises my influence much too high;
202:150,19[A  ]| the power of dividing two people so tenderly attached
202:150,20[A  ]| is too much for an indifferent person."
202:150,21[Q  ]| "'Tis because you are an indifferent person,"
202:150,21['  ]| said
202:150,22['  ]| Lucy, with some pique, and laying a particular stress
202:150,23['  ]| on those words,
202:150,23[Q  ]| "that your judgment might justly have
202:150,24[Q  ]| such weight with me.  If you could be supposed to be
202:150,25[Q  ]| biassed in any respect by your own feelings, your opinion
202:150,26[Q  ]| would not be worth having."
202:150,27['  ]| Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to this,
202:150,28['  ]| lest they might provoke each other to an unsuitable
202:150,29['  ]| increase of ease and unreserve; and was even partly
202:150,30['  ]| determined never to mention the subject again.  Another
202:150,31['  ]| pause therefore of many minutes' duration, succeeded
202:150,32['  ]| this speech, and Lucy was still the first to end it.
202:150,33[Q  ]| "Shall you be in town this winter, Miss*Dashwood?"
202:150,34['  ]| said she with all her accustomary complacency.
202:150,35[A  ]| "Certainly not."
202:150,36[Q  ]| "I am sorry for that,"
202:150,37['  ]| returned the other, while her
202:150,37['  ]| eyes brightened at the information,
202:150,37[Q  ]| "it would have gave
202:150,38[Q  ]| me such pleasure to meet you there!  But I dare say
202:151,01[Q  ]| you will go for all that.  To be sure, your brother and
202:151,02[Q  ]| sister will ask you to come to them."
202:151,03[A  ]| "It will not be in my power to accept their invitation
202:151,04[A  ]| if they do."
202:151,05[Q  ]| "How unlucky that is!  I had quite depended upon
202:151,06[Q  ]| meeting you there.  Anne and me are to go the latter
202:151,07[Q  ]| end of January to some relations who have been wanting
202:151,08[Q  ]| us to visit them these several years!  But I only go for
202:151,09[Q  ]| the sake of seeing Edward.  He will be there in February,
202:151,10[Q  ]| otherwise London would have no charms for me; I have
202:151,11[Q  ]| not spirits for it."
202:151,12['  ]| Elinor was soon called to the card-table by the conclusion
202:151,13['  ]| of the first rubber, and the confidential discourse
202:151,14['  ]| of the two ladies was therefore at an end, to which both
202:151,15['  ]| of them submitted without any reluctance, for nothing
202:151,16['  ]| had been said on either side, to make them dislike each
202:151,17['  ]| other less than they had done before; and Elinor sat
202:151,18['  ]| down to the card*table with the melancholy persuasion
202:151,19['  ]| that
202:151,19@a   | Edward was not only without affection for the
202:151,20@a   | person who was to be his wife; but that he had not
202:151,21@a   | even the chance of being tolerably happy in marriage,
202:151,22@a   | which sincere affection on \her\ side would have given,
202:151,23@a   | for self-interest alone could induce a woman to keep
202:151,24@a   | a man to an engagement, of which she seemed so
202:151,25@a   | thoroughly aware that he was weary.
202:151,26['  ]| From this time the subject was never revived by
202:151,27['  ]| Elinor, and when entered on by Lucy, who seldom
202:151,28['  ]| missed an opportunity of introducing it, and was particularly
202:151,29['  ]| careful to inform her confidante, of her happiness
202:151,30['  ]| whenever she received a letter from Edward, it was
202:151,31['  ]| treated by the former with calmness and caution, and
202:151,32['  ]| dismissed as soon as civility would allow; for she felt
202:151,33['  ]| such conversations to be an indulgence which Lucy did
202:151,34['  ]| not deserve, and which were dangerous to herself.
202:151,35['  ]| The visit of the Miss*Steeles at Barton*Park was
202:151,36['  ]| lengthened far beyond what the first invitation implied.
202:151,37['  ]| Their favour increased, they could not be spared; Sir*John
202:151,38['  ]| would not hear of their going; and in spite of their
202:152,01['  ]| numerous and long arranged engagements in Exeter, in
202:152,02['  ]| spite of the absolute necessity of their returning to fulfil
202:152,03['  ]| them immediately, which was in full force at the end of
202:152,04['  ]| every week, they were prevailed on to stay nearly two
202:152,05['  ]| months at the park, and to assist in the due celebration
202:152,06['  ]| of that festival which requires a more than ordinary
202:152,07['  ]| share of private balls and large dinners to proclaim its
202:152,08['  ]| importance.
203:153,01['  ]| Though Mrs%*Jennings was in the habit of spending
203:153,02['  ]| a large portion of the year at the houses of her children
203:153,03['  ]| and friends, she was not without a settled habitation of
203:153,04['  ]| her own.  Since the death of her husband, who had
203:153,05['  ]| traded with success in a less elegant part of town,
203:153,06['  ]| she had resided every winter in a house in one of the
203:153,07['  ]| streets near Portman-square.  Towards this home, she
203:153,08['  ]| began on the approach of January to turn her thoughts,
203:153,09['  ]| and thither she one day abruptly, and very unexpectedly
203:153,10['  ]| by them, asked the elder Miss*Dashwoods to accompany
203:153,11['  ]| her.  Elinor, without observing the varying complexion
203:153,12['  ]| of her sister, and the animated look which spoke no
203:153,13['  ]| indifference to the plan, immediately gave a grateful
203:153,14['  ]| but absolute denial for both, in which she believed herself
203:153,15['  ]| to be speaking their united inclinations.  The reason
203:153,16['  ]| alleged was their determined resolution of not leaving
203:153,17['  ]| their mother at that time of year.  Mrs%*Jennings
203:153,18['  ]| received the refusal with some surprize, and repeated
203:153,19['  ]| her invitation immediately.
203:153,20[K  ]| "Oh!  Lord, I am sure your mother can spare you
203:153,21[K  ]| very well, and I \do\ beg you will favour me with your
203:153,22[K  ]| company, for I've quite set my heart upon it.  Don't
203:153,23[K  ]| fancy that you will be any inconvenience to me, for
203:153,24[K  ]| I shan't put myself at all out of my way for you.  It
203:153,25[K  ]| will only be sending Betty by the coach, and I hope
203:153,26[K  ]| I can afford \that\.  We three shall be able to go very
203:153,27[K  ]| well in my chaise; and when we are in town, if you do
203:153,28[K  ]| not like to go wherever I do, well and good, you may
203:153,29[K  ]| always go with one of my daughters.  I am sure your
203:153,30[K  ]| mother will not object to it; for I have had such good
203:153,31[K  ]| luck in getting my own children off my hands, that she
203:153,32[K  ]| will think me a very fit person to have the charge of
203:153,33[K  ]| you; and if I don't get one of you at least well married
203:154,01[K  ]| before I have done with you, it shall not be my fault.
203:154,02[K  ]| I shall speak a good word for you to all the young men,
203:154,03[K  ]| you may depend upon it."
203:154,04[L  ]| "I have a notion,"
203:154,04['  ]| said Sir*John,
203:154,04[L  ]| "that Miss*Marianne
203:154,05[L  ]| would not object to such a scheme, if her elder sister
203:154,06[L  ]| would come into it.  It is very hard indeed that she
203:154,07[L  ]| should not have a little pleasure, because Miss*Dashwood
203:154,08[L  ]| does not wish it.  So I would advise you two, to set off
203:154,09[L  ]| for town, when you are tired of Barton, without saying
203:154,10[L  ]| a word to Miss*Dashwood about it."
203:154,11[K  ]| "Nay,"
203:154,11['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings,
203:154,11[K  ]| "I am sure I shall be
203:154,12[K  ]| monstrous glad of Miss*Marianne's company, whether
203:154,13[K  ]| Miss*Dashwood will go or not, only the more the merrier
203:154,14[K  ]| say I, and I thought it would be more comfortable for
203:154,15[K  ]| them to be together; because if they got tired of me,
203:154,16[K  ]| they might talk to one another, and laugh at my odd
203:154,17[K  ]| ways behind my back.  But one or the other, if not
203:154,18[K  ]| both of them, I must have.  Lord bless me! how do
203:154,19[K  ]| you think I can live poking by myself, I who have been
203:154,20[K  ]| always used till this winter to have Charlotte with me.
203:154,21[K  ]| Come, Miss*Marianne, let us strike hands upon the
203:154,22[K  ]| bargain, and if Miss*Dashwood will change her mind
203:154,23[K  ]| by*and*bye, why so much the better."
203:154,24[C  ]| "I thank you, ma'am, sincerely thank you,"
203:154,24['  ]| said
203:154,25['  ]| Marianne, with warmth;
203:154,25[C  ]| "your invitation has insured
203:154,26[C  ]| my gratitude for*ever, and it would give me such happiness,
203:154,27[C  ]| yes almost the greatest happiness I am capable of,
203:154,28[C  ]| to be able to accept it.  But my mother, my dearest,
203:154,29[C  ]| kindest mother, ~~ I feel the justice of what Elinor has
203:154,30[C  ]| urged, and if she were to be made less happy, less comfortable
203:154,31[C  ]| by our absence ~~ Oh! no, nothing should tempt
203:154,32[C  ]| me to leave her.  It should not, must not be a struggle."
203:154,33['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings repeated her assurance that Mrs%*Dashwood
203:154,34['  ]| could spare them perfectly well; and Elinor, who
203:154,35['  ]| now understood her sister, and saw to what indifference
203:154,36['  ]| to almost every*thing else, she was carried by her eagerness
203:154,37['  ]| to be with Willoughby again, made no farther direct
203:154,38['  ]| opposition to the plan, and merely referred it to her
203:155,01['  ]| mother's decision, from whom however she scarcely
203:155,02['  ]| expected to receive any support in her endeavour to
203:155,03['  ]| prevent a visit, which she could not approve of for
203:155,04['  ]| Marianne, and which on her own account she had
203:155,05['  ]| particular reasons to avoid.
203:155,05@a   | Whatever Marianne was
203:155,05@a   | desirous of, her mother would be eager to promote ~~
203:155,06@a   | she could not expect to influence the latter to cautiousness
203:155,07@a   | of conduct in an affair, respecting which she had
203:155,08@a   | never been able to inspire her with distrust; and she
203:155,09@a   | dared not explain the motive of her own disinclination
203:155,10@a   | for going to London.
203:155,11['  ]| That Marianne, fastidious as she
203:155,12['  ]| was, thoroughly acquainted with Mrs%*Jennings' manners,
203:155,13['  ]| and invariably disgusted by them, should overlook every
203:155,14['  ]| inconvenience of that kind, should disregard whatever
203:155,15['  ]| must be most wounding to her irritable feelings, in her
203:155,16['  ]| pursuit of one object, was such a proof, so strong, so
203:155,17['  ]| full, of the importance of that object to her, as Elinor,
203:155,18['  ]| in spite of all that had passed, was not prepared to
203:155,19['  ]| witness.
203:155,20['  ]| On being informed of the invitation, Mrs%*Dashwood,
203:155,21['  ]| persuaded that such an excursion would be productive
203:155,22['  ]| of much amusement to both her daughters, and perceiving
203:155,23['  ]| through all her affectionate attention to herself,
203:155,24['  ]| how much the heart of Marianne was in it, would not
203:155,25['  ]| hear of their declining the offer upon \her\ account;
203:155,26['  ]| insisted on their both accepting it directly, and then
203:155,27['  ]| began to foresee with her usual cheerfulness, a variety
203:155,28['  ]| of advantages that would accrue to them all, from this
203:155,29['  ]| separation.
203:155,30[D  ]| "I am delighted with the plan,"
203:155,30['  ]| she cried,
203:155,30[D  ]| "it is
203:155,31[D  ]| exactly what I could wish.  Margaret and I shall be as
203:155,32[D  ]| much benefited by it as yourselves.  When you and the
203:155,33[D  ]| Middletons are gone, we shall go on so quietly and
203:155,34[D  ]| happily together with our books and our music!  You
203:155,35[D  ]| will find Margaret so improved when you come back
203:155,36[D  ]| again!  And I have a little plan of alteration for your
203:155,37[D  ]| bedrooms too, which may now be performed without
203:155,38[D  ]| inconvenience to any*one.  It is very right that you
203:156,01[D  ]| \should\ go to town; I would have every young woman
203:156,02[D  ]| of your condition in life, acquainted with the manners
203:156,03[D  ]| and amusements of London.  You will be under the
203:156,04[D  ]| care of a motherly good sort of woman, of whose
203:156,05[D  ]| kindness to you I can have no doubt.  And in all
203:156,06[D  ]| probability you will see your brother, and whatever
203:156,07[D  ]| may be his faults, or the faults of his wife, when I consider
203:156,08[D  ]| whose son he is, I cannot bear to have you so
203:156,09[D  ]| wholly estranged from each other."
203:156,10[A  ]| "Though with your usual anxiety for our happiness,"
203:156,11['  ]| said Elinor,
203:156,11[A  ]| "you have been obviating every impediment
203:156,12[A  ]| to the present scheme which occurred to you, there is
203:156,13[A  ]| still one objection which, in my opinion, cannot be so
203:156,14[A  ]| easily removed."
203:156,15['  ]| Marianne's countenance sunk.
203:156,16[D  ]| "And what,"
203:156,16['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood,
203:156,16[D  ]| "is my dear
203:156,17[D  ]| prudent Elinor going to suggest?  What formidable
203:156,18[D  ]| obstacle is she now to bring forward?  Do not let me
203:156,19[D  ]| hear a word about the expense of it."
203:156,20[A  ]| "My objection is this; though I think very well of
203:156,21[A  ]| Mrs%*Jennings' heart, she is not a woman whose society
203:156,22[A  ]| can afford us pleasure, or whose protection will give us
203:156,23[A  ]| consequence."
203:156,24[D  ]| "That is very true,"
203:156,24['  ]| replied her mother;
203:156,24[D  ]| "but of
203:156,25[D  ]| her society, separately from that of other people, you
203:156,26[D  ]| will scarcely have any*thing at all, and you will almost
203:156,27[D  ]| always appear in public with Lady*Middleton."
203:156,28[C  ]| "If Elinor is frightened away by her dislike of
203:156,29[C  ]| Mrs%*Jennings,"
203:156,29['  ]| said Marianne,
203:156,29[C  ]| "at least it need not
203:156,30[C  ]| prevent \my\ accepting her invitation.  I have no such
203:156,31[C  ]| scruples, and I am sure, I could put up with every
203:156,32[C  ]| unpleasantness of that kind with very little effort."
203:156,33['  ]| Elinor could not help smiling at this display of
203:156,34['  ]| indifference towards the manners of a person, to whom
203:156,35['  ]| she had often had difficulty in persuading Marianne to
203:156,36['  ]| behave with tolerable politeness:  and resolved within
203:156,37['  ]| herself, that
203:156,37@a   | if her sister persisted in going, she would
203:156,38@a   | go likewise, as she did not think it proper that Marianne
203:157,01@a   | should be left to the sole guidance of her own judgment,
203:157,02@a   | or that Mrs%*Jennings should be abandoned to the mercy
203:157,03@a   | of Marianne for all the comfort of her domestic hours.
203:157,04['  ]| To this determination she was the more easily reconciled,
203:157,05['  ]| by recollecting, that Edward*Ferrars, by Lucy's account,
203:157,06['  ]| was not to be in town before February; and that their
203:157,07['  ]| visit, without any unreasonable abridgment, might be
203:157,08['  ]| previously finished.
203:157,09[D  ]| "I will have you \both\ go,"
203:157,09['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood;
203:157,10[D  ]| "these objections are nonsensical.  You will have much
203:157,11[D  ]| pleasure in being in London, and especially in being
203:157,12[D  ]| together; and if Elinor would ever condescend to anticipate
203:157,13[D  ]| enjoyment, she would foresee it there from
203:157,14[D  ]| a variety of sources; she would perhaps expect some
203:157,15[D  ]| from improving her acquaintance with her sister-in-law's
203:157,16[D  ]| family."
203:157,17['  ]| Elinor had often wished for an opportunity of attempting
203:157,18['  ]| to weaken her mother's dependence on the attachment
203:157,19['  ]| of Edward and herself, that the shock might be
203:157,20['  ]| the less when the whole truth were revealed, and now
203:157,21['  ]| on this attack, though almost hopeless of success, she
203:157,22['  ]| forced herself to begin her design by saying, as calmly
203:157,23['  ]| as she could,
203:157,23[A  ]| "I like Edward*Ferrars very much, and
203:157,24[A  ]| shall always be glad to see him; but as to the rest of
203:157,25[A  ]| the family, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me,
203:157,26[A  ]| whether I am ever known to them or not."
203:157,27['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood smiled and said nothing.  Marianne
203:157,28['  ]| lifted up her eyes in astonishment, and Elinor conjectured
203:157,29['  ]| that she might as well have held her tongue.
203:157,30['  ]| After very little farther discourse, it was finally settled
203:157,31['  ]| that the invitation should be fully accepted.  Mrs%*Jennings
203:157,32['  ]| received the information with a great deal of joy,
203:157,33['  ]| and many assurances of kindness and care; nor was it
203:157,34['  ]| a matter of pleasure merely to her.  Sir*John was
203:157,35['  ]| delighted; for to a man, whose prevailing anxiety was
203:157,36['  ]| the dread of being alone, the acquisition of two, to the
203:157,37['  ]| number of inhabitants in London, was something.  Even
203:157,38['  ]| Lady*Middleton took the trouble of being delighted,
203:158,01['  ]| which was putting herself rather out of her way; and
203:158,02['  ]| as for the Miss*Steeles, especially Lucy,
203:158,02@y   | they had never
203:158,03@y   | been so happy in their lives as this intelligence made
203:158,04@y   | them.
203:158,05['  ]| Elinor submitted to the arrangement which counteracted
203:158,06['  ]| her wishes, with less reluctance than she had
203:158,07['  ]| expected to feel.  With regard to herself, it was now
203:158,08['  ]| a matter of unconcern whether she went to town or not,
203:158,09['  ]| and when she saw her mother so thoroughly pleased
203:158,10['  ]| with the plan, and her sister exhilarated by it in look,
203:158,11['  ]| voice, and manner, restored to all her usual animation,
203:158,12['  ]| and elevated to more than her usual gaiety, she could
203:158,13['  ]| not be dissatisfied with the cause, and would hardly
203:158,14['  ]| allow herself to distrust the consequence.
203:158,15['  ]| Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond happiness,
203:158,16['  ]| so great was the perturbation of her spirits and her
203:158,17['  ]| impatience to be gone.  Her unwillingness to quit her
203:158,18['  ]| mother was her only restorative to calmness; and at
203:158,19['  ]| the moment of parting, her grief on that score was
203:158,20['  ]| excessive.  Her mother's affliction was hardly less, and
203:158,21['  ]| Elinor was the only one of the three, who seemed to
203:158,22['  ]| consider the separation as any*thing short of eternal.
203:158,23['  ]| Their departure took place in the first week in January.
203:158,24['  ]| The Middletons were to follow in about a week.  The
203:158,25['  ]| Miss*Steeles kept their station at the park, and were to
203:158,26['  ]| quit it only with the rest of the family.
204:159,01['  ]| Elinor could not find herself in the carriage with
204:159,02['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, and beginning a journey to London under
204:159,03['  ]| her protection, and as her guest, without wondering at
204:159,04['  ]| her own situation, so short had their acquaintance with
204:159,05['  ]| that lady been, so wholly unsuited were they in age and
204:159,06['  ]| disposition, and so many had been her objections against
204:159,07['  ]| such a measure only a few days before!  But these
204:159,08['  ]| objections had all, with that happy ardour of youth
204:159,09['  ]| which Marianne and her mother equally shared, been
204:159,10['  ]| overcome or overlooked; and Elinor, in spite of every
204:159,11['  ]| occasional doubt of Willoughby's constancy, could not
204:159,12['  ]| witness the rapture of delightful expectation which filled
204:159,13['  ]| the whole soul and beamed in the eyes of Marianne,
204:159,14['  ]| without feeling how blank was her own prospect, how
204:159,15['  ]| cheerless her own state of mind in the comparison, and
204:159,16['  ]| how gladly she would engage in the solicitude of Marianne's
204:159,17['  ]| situation to have the same animating object in
204:159,18['  ]| view, the same possibility of hope.
204:159,18@a   | A short, a very
204:159,19@a   | short time however must now decide what Willoughby's
204:159,20@a   | intentions were; in all probability he was already in
204:159,21@a   | town.  Marianne's eagerness to be gone declared her
204:159,22@a   | dependance on finding him there;
204:159,22['  ]| and Elinor was
204:159,23['  ]| resolved not only upon gaining every new light as to his
204:159,24['  ]| character which her own observation or the intelligence
204:159,25['  ]| of others could give her, but likewise upon watching his
204:159,26['  ]| behaviour to her sister with such zealous attention, as
204:159,27['  ]| to ascertain what he was and what he meant, before
204:159,28['  ]| many meetings had taken place.  Should the result of
204:159,29['  ]| her observations be unfavourable, she was determined
204:159,30['  ]| at all events to open the eyes of her sister; should it
204:159,31['  ]| be otherwise, her exertions would be of a different
204:159,32['  ]| nature ~~ she must then learn to avoid every selfish comparison,
204:159,33['  ]| and banish every regret which might lessen her
204:159,34['  ]| satisfaction in the happiness of Marianne.
204:160,01['  ]| They were three days on their journey, and Marianne's
204:160,02['  ]| behaviour as they travelled was a happy specimen of
204:160,03['  ]| what her future complaisance and companionableness
204:160,04['  ]| to Mrs%*Jennings might be expected to be.  She sat in
204:160,05['  ]| silence almost all the way, wrapt in her own meditations,
204:160,06['  ]| and scarcely ever voluntarily speaking, except when any
204:160,07['  ]| object of picturesque beauty within their view drew from
204:160,08['  ]| her an exclamation of delight exclusively addressed to
204:160,09['  ]| her sister.  To atone for this conduct therefore, Elinor
204:160,10['  ]| took immediate possession of the post of civility which
204:160,11['  ]| she had assigned herself, behaved with the greatest
204:160,12['  ]| attention to Mrs%*Jennings, talked with her, laughed
204:160,13['  ]| with her, and listened to her whenever she could; and
204:160,14['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings on her side treated them both with all
204:160,15['  ]| possible kindness, was solicitous on every occasion for
204:160,16['  ]| their ease and enjoyment, and only disturbed that she
204:160,17['  ]| could not make them choose their own dinners at the
204:160,18['  ]| inn, nor extort a confession of their preferring salmon
204:160,19['  ]| to cod, or boiled fowls to veal cutlets.  They reached
204:160,20['  ]| town by three o'clock the third day, glad to be released,
204:160,21['  ]| after such a journey, from the confinement of a carriage,
204:160,22['  ]| and ready to enjoy all the luxury of a good fire.
204:160,23['  ]| The house was handsome and handsomely fitted up,
204:160,24['  ]| and the young ladies were immediately put in possession
204:160,25['  ]| of a very comfortable apartment.  It had formerly been
204:160,26['  ]| Charlotte's, and over the mantlepiece still hung a landscape
204:160,27['  ]| in coloured silks of her performance, in proof of
204:160,28['  ]| her having spent seven years at a great school in town
204:160,29['  ]| to some effect.
204:160,30['  ]| As dinner was not to be ready in less than two hours
204:160,31['  ]| from their arrival, Elinor determined to employ the
204:160,32['  ]| interval in writing to her mother, and sat down for that
204:160,33['  ]| purpose.  In a few moments Marianne did the same.
204:160,34[A  ]| "\I\ am writing home, Marianne,"
204:160,34['  ]| said Elinor;
204:160,34[A  ]| "had
204:160,35[A  ]| not you better defer your letter for a day or two?"
204:160,36[C  ]| "I am \not\ going to write to my mother,"
204:160,36['  ]| replied
204:160,37['  ]| Marianne hastily, and as if wishing to avoid any farther
204:160,38['  ]| inquiry.  Elinor said no more; it immediately struck
204:161,01['  ]| her that
204:161,01@a   | she must then be writing to Willoughby,
204:161,01['  ]| and
204:161,02['  ]| the conclusion which as instantly followed was, that
204:161,03@a   | however mysteriously they might wish to conduct the
204:161,04@a   | affair, they must be engaged.
204:161,04['  ]| This conviction, though
204:161,05['  ]| not entirely satisfactory, gave her pleasure, and she
204:161,06['  ]| continued her letter with greater alacrity.  Marianne's
204:161,07['  ]| was finished in a very few minutes; in length it could
204:161,08['  ]| be no more than a note:  it was then folded up, sealed
204:161,09['  ]| and directed with eager rapidity.  Elinor thought she
204:161,10['  ]| could distinguish a large W% in the direction, and no
204:161,11['  ]| sooner was it complete than Marianne, ringing the bell,
204:161,12['  ]| requested the footman who answered it, to get that
204:161,13['  ]| letter conveyed for her to the two-penny post.  This
204:161,14['  ]| decided the matter at once.
204:161,15['  ]| Her spirits still continued very high, but there was
204:161,16['  ]| a flutter in them which prevented their giving much
204:161,17['  ]| pleasure to her sister, and this agitation increased as
204:161,18['  ]| the evening drew on.  She could scarcely eat any dinner,
204:161,19['  ]| and when they afterwards returned to the drawing*room,
204:161,20['  ]| seemed anxiously listening to the sound of every carriage.
204:161,21['  ]| It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs%*Jennings,
204:161,22['  ]| by being much engaged in her own room, could see little
204:161,23['  ]| of what was passing.  The tea things were brought in,
204:161,24['  ]| and already had Marianne been disappointed more than
204:161,25['  ]| once by a rap at a neighbouring door, when a loud one
204:161,26['  ]| was suddenly heard which could not be mistaken for one
204:161,27['  ]| at any other house.  Elinor felt secure of its announcing
204:161,28['  ]| Willoughby's approach, and Marianne starting up moved
204:161,29['  ]| towards the door.  Every*thing was silent; this could
204:161,30['  ]| not be borne many seconds, she opened the door,
204:161,31['  ]| advanced a few steps towards the stairs, and after
204:161,32['  ]| listening half a minute, returned into the room in all
204:161,33['  ]| the agitation which a conviction of having heard him
204:161,34['  ]| would naturally produce; in the extasy of her feelings
204:161,35['  ]| at that instant she could not help exclaiming,
204:161,35[C  ]| "Oh!
204:161,36[C  ]| Elinor, it is Willoughby, indeed it is!"
204:161,36['  ]| and seemed
204:161,37['  ]| almost ready to throw herself into his arms, when
204:161,38['  ]| Colonel*Brandon appeared.
204:162,01['  ]| It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness,
204:162,02['  ]| and she immediately left the room.  Elinor was disappointed
204:162,03['  ]| too; but at the same time her regard for
204:162,04['  ]| Colonel*Brandon ensured his welcome with her, and she
204:162,05['  ]| felt particularly hurt that a man so partial to her sister
204:162,06['  ]| should perceive that she experienced nothing but grief
204:162,07['  ]| and disappointment in seeing him.  She instantly saw
204:162,08['  ]| that it was not unnoticed by him, that he even observed
204:162,09['  ]| Marianne as she quitted the room, with such astonishment
204:162,10['  ]| and concern, as hardly left him the recollection of
204:162,11['  ]| what civility demanded towards herself.
204:162,12[H  ]| "Is your sister ill?"
204:162,12['  ]| said he.
204:162,13['  ]| Elinor answered in some distress that she was, and
204:162,14['  ]| then talked of head-aches, low spirits, and over*fatigues;
204:162,15['  ]| and of every*thing to which she could decently attribute
204:162,16['  ]| her sister's behaviour.
204:162,17['  ]| He heard her with the most earnest attention, but
204:162,18['  ]| seeming to recollect himself, said no more on the subject,
204:162,19['  ]| and began directly to speak of his pleasure at seeing
204:162,20['  ]| them in London, making the usual inquiries about their
204:162,21['  ]| journey and the friends they had left behind.
204:162,22['  ]| In this calm kind of way, with very little interest on
204:162,23['  ]| either side, they continued to talk, both of them out of
204:162,24['  ]| spirits, and the thoughts of both engaged elsewhere.
204:162,25['  ]| Elinor wished very much to ask whether Willoughby
204:162,26['  ]| were then in town, but she was afraid of giving him
204:162,27['  ]| pain by any inquiry after his rival; and at length by
204:162,28['  ]| way of saying something, she asked if he had been in
204:162,29['  ]| London ever since she had seen him last.
204:162,29[H  ]| "Yes,"
204:162,29['  ]| he
204:162,30['  ]| replied, with some embarrassment,
204:162,30[H  ]| "almost ever since;
204:162,31[H  ]| I have been once or twice at Delaford for a few days,
204:162,32[H  ]| but it has never been in my power to return to Barton."
204:162,33['  ]| This, and the manner in which it was said, immediately
204:162,34['  ]| brought back to her remembrance, all the circumstances
204:162,35['  ]| of his quitting that place, with the uneasiness and
204:162,36['  ]| suspicions they had caused to Mrs%*Jennings, and she
204:162,37['  ]| was fearful that her question had implied much more
204:162,38['  ]| curiosity on the subject than she had ever felt.
204:163,01['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings soon came in.
204:163,01[K  ]| "Oh! Colonel,"
204:163,01['  ]| said
204:163,02['  ]| she, with her usual noisy cheerfulness,
204:163,02[K  ]| "I am monstrous
204:163,03[K  ]| glad to see you ~~ sorry I could not come before ~~ beg
204:163,04[K  ]| your pardon, but I have been forced to look about me
204:163,05[K  ]| a little, and settle my matters; for it is a long while
204:163,06[K  ]| since I have been at home, and you know one has always
204:163,07[K  ]| a world of little odd things to do after one has been
204:163,08[K  ]| away for any time; and then I have had Cartwright
204:163,09[K  ]| to settle with ~~ Lord, I have been as busy as a bee ever
204:163,10[K  ]| since dinner!  But pray, Colonel, how came you to
204:163,11[K  ]| conjure out that I should be in town to-day?"
204:163,12[H  ]| "I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr%*Palmer's,
204:163,13[H  ]| where I have been dining."
204:163,14[K  ]| "Oh! you did; well, and how do they all do at
204:163,15[K  ]| their house?  How does Charlotte do?  I warrant you
204:163,16[K  ]| she is a fine size by this time."
204:163,17[H  ]| "Mrs%*Palmer appeared quite well, and I am commissioned
204:163,18[H  ]| to tell you, that you will certainly see her
204:163,19[H  ]| to-morrow."
204:163,20[K  ]| "Aye, to be sure, I thought as much.  Well, Colonel,
204:163,21[K  ]| I have brought two young ladies with me, you see ~~
204:163,22[K  ]| that is, you see but one of them now, but there is another
204:163,23[K  ]| somewhere.  Your friend Miss*Marianne, too ~~ which you
204:163,24[K  ]| will not be sorry to hear.  I do not know what you and
204:163,25[K  ]| Mr%*Willoughby will do between you about her.  Aye,
204:163,26[K  ]| it is a fine thing to be young and handsome.  Well!
204:163,27[K  ]| I was young once, but I never was very handsome ~~
204:163,28[K  ]| worse luck for me.  However I got a very good husband,
204:163,29[K  ]| and I don't know what the greatest beauty can do more.
204:163,30[K  ]| Ah! poor man! he has been dead these eight years
204:163,31[K  ]| and better.  But Colonel, where have you been to since
204:163,32[K  ]| we parted?  And how does your business go on?  Come,
204:163,33[K  ]| come, let's have no secrets among friends."
204:163,34['  ]| He replied with his accustomary mildness to all her
204:163,35['  ]| inquiries, but without satisfying her in any.  Elinor now
204:163,36['  ]| began to make the tea, and Marianne was obliged to
204:163,37['  ]| appear again.
204:163,38['  ]| After her entrance, Colonel*Brandon became more
204:164,01['  ]| thoughtful and silent than he had been before, and
204:164,02['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings could not prevail on him to stay long.
204:164,03['  ]| No other visitor appeared that evening, and the ladies
204:164,04['  ]| were unanimous in agreeing to go early to bed.
204:164,05['  ]| Marianne rose the next morning with recovered spirits
204:164,06['  ]| and happy looks.  The disappointment of the evening
204:164,07['  ]| before seemed forgotten in the expectation of what was
204:164,08['  ]| to happen that day.  They had not long finished their
204:164,09['  ]| breakfast before Mrs%*Palmer's barouche stopt at the
204:164,10['  ]| door, and in few minutes she came laughing into
204:164,11['  ]| the room; so delighted to see them all, that it was
204:164,12['  ]| hard to say whether she received most pleasure from
204:164,13['  ]| meeting her mother or the Miss*Dashwoods again.  So
204:164,14['  ]| surprised at their coming to town, though it was what
204:164,15['  ]| she had rather expected all along; so angry at their
204:164,16['  ]| accepting her mother's invitation after having declined
204:164,17['  ]| her own, though at the same time she would never have
204:164,18['  ]| forgiven them if they had not come!
204:164,19[O  ]| "Mr%*Palmer will be so happy to see you,"
204:164,19['  ]| said she;
204:164,20[O  ]| "what do you think he said when he heard of your
204:164,21[O  ]| coming with mama?  I forget what it was now, but it
204:164,22[O  ]| was something so droll!"
204:164,23['  ]| After an hour or two spent in what her mother
204:164,24['  ]| called comfortable chat, or in other words, in every
204:164,25['  ]| variety of inquiry concerning all their acquaintance on
204:164,26['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings's side, and in laughter without cause on
204:164,27['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer's, it was proposed by the latter that they
204:164,28['  ]| should all accompany her to some shops where she had
204:164,29['  ]| business that morning, to which Mrs%*Jennings and
204:164,30['  ]| Elinor readily consented, as having likewise some purchases
204:164,31['  ]| to make themselves; and Marianne, though
204:164,32['  ]| declining it at first, was induced to go likewise.
204:164,33['  ]| Wherever they went, she was evidently always on the
204:164,34['  ]| watch.  In Bond-street especially, where much of their
204:164,35['  ]| business lay, her eyes were in constant inquiry; and in
204:164,36['  ]| whatever shop the party were engaged, her mind was
204:164,37['  ]| equally abstracted from every*thing actually before
204:164,38['  ]| them, from all that interested and occupied the others.
204:165,01['  ]| Restless and dissatisfied every*where, her sister could
204:165,02['  ]| never obtain her opinion of any article of purchase,
204:165,03['  ]| however it might equally concern them both; she
204:165,04['  ]| received no pleasure from any*thing; was only impatient
204:165,05['  ]| to be at home again, and could with difficulty govern
204:165,06['  ]| her vexation at the tediousness of Mrs%*Palmer, whose
204:165,07['  ]| eye was caught by every*thing pretty, expensive, or
204:165,08['  ]| new; who was wild to buy all, could determine on none,
204:165,09['  ]| and dawdled away her time in rapture and indecision.
204:165,10['  ]| It was late in the morning before they returned home;
204:165,11['  ]| and no sooner had they entered the house than Marianne
204:165,12['  ]| flew eagerly up*stairs, and when Elinor followed, she
204:165,13['  ]| found her turning from the table with a sorrowful
204:165,14['  ]| countenance, which declared that no Willoughby had
204:165,15['  ]| been there.
204:165,16[C  ]| "Has no letter been left here for me since we went
204:165,17[C  ]| out?"
204:165,17['  ]| said she to the footman who then entered with
204:165,18['  ]| the parcels.  She was answered in the negative.
204:165,18[C  ]| "Are
204:165,19[C  ]| you quite sure of it?"
204:165,19['  ]| she replied.
204:165,19[C  ]| "Are you certain
204:165,20[C  ]| that no servant, no porter has left any letter or note?"
204:165,21['  ]| The man replied that none had.
204:165,22[C  ]| "How very odd!"
204:165,22['  ]| said she in a low and disappointed
204:165,23['  ]| voice, as she turned away to the window.
204:165,24[A  ]| "How odd indeed!"
204:165,24['  ]| repeated Elinor within herself,
204:165,25['  ]| regarding her sister with uneasiness.
204:165,25[A  ]| "If she had not
204:165,26[A  ]| known him to be in town she would not have written
204:165,27[A  ]| to him, as she did; she would have written to Combe*Magna;
204:165,28[A  ]| and if he is in town, how odd that he should
204:165,29[A  ]| neither come nor write!  Oh! my dear mother, you
204:165,30[A  ]| must be wrong in permitting an engagement between
204:165,31[A  ]| a daughter so young, a man so little known, to be carried
204:165,32[A  ]| on in so doubtful, so mysterious a manner!  I long to
204:165,33[A  ]| inquire; but how will \my\ interference be borne!"
204:165,34['  ]| She determined after some consideration, that if
204:165,35['  ]| appearances continued many days longer, as unpleasant
204:165,36['  ]| as they now were, she would represent in the strongest
204:165,37['  ]| manner to her mother the necessity of some serious
204:165,38['  ]| inquiry into the affair.
204:166,01['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer and two elderly ladies of Mrs%*Jennings's
204:166,02['  ]| intimate acquaintance, whom she had met and invited
204:166,03['  ]| in the morning, dined with them.  The former left them
204:166,04['  ]| soon after tea to fulfil her evening engagements; and
204:166,05['  ]| Elinor was obliged to assist in making a whist-table for
204:166,06['  ]| the others.  Marianne was of no use on these occasions,
204:166,07['  ]| as she would never learn the game, but though her time
204:166,08['  ]| was therefore at her own disposal, the evening was by
204:166,09['  ]| no means more productive of pleasure to her than to
204:166,10['  ]| Elinor, for it was spent in all the anxiety of expectation
204:166,11['  ]| and the pain of disappointment.  She sometimes
204:166,12['  ]| endeavoured for a few minutes to read; but the book
204:166,13['  ]| was soon thrown aside, and she returned to the more
204:166,14['  ]| interesting employment of walking backwards and forwards
204:166,15['  ]| across the room, pausing for a moment whenever
204:166,16['  ]| she came to the window, in hopes of distinguishing the
204:166,17['  ]| long-expected rap.
205:167,01[K  ]| "If this open weather holds much longer,"
205:167,01['  ]| said
205:167,02['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, when they met at breakfast the following
205:167,03['  ]| morning.
205:167,03[K  ]| "Sir*John will not like leaving Barton next
205:167,04[K  ]| week; 'tis a sad thing for sportsmen to lose a day's
205:167,05[K  ]| pleasure.  Poor souls!  I always pity them when they
205:167,06[K  ]| do; they seem to take it so much to heart."
205:167,07[C  ]| "That is true,"
205:167,07['  ]| cried Marianne in a cheerful voice,
205:167,08['  ]| and walking to the window as she spoke, to examine
205:167,09['  ]| the day.
205:167,09[C  ]| "I had not thought of \that\.  This weather
205:167,10[C  ]| will keep many sportsmen in the country."
205:167,11['  ]| It was a lucky recollection, all her good spirits were
205:167,12['  ]| restored by it.
205:167,12[C  ]| "It is charming weather for \them\
205:167,13[C  ]| indeed,"
205:167,13['  ]| she continued, as she sat down to the breakfast*table
205:167,14['  ]| with a happy countenance.
205:167,14[C  ]| "How much they
205:167,15[C  ]| must enjoy it!  But"
205:167,15['  ]| (with a little return of anxiety)
205:167,16[C  ]| "it cannot be expected to last long.  At this time of
205:167,17[C  ]| year, and after such a series of rain, we shall certainly
205:167,18[C  ]| have very little more of it.  Frosts will soon set in, and
205:167,19[C  ]| in all probability with severity.  In another day or two
205:167,20[C  ]| perhaps; this extreme mildness can hardly last longer ~~
205:167,21[C  ]| nay, perhaps it may freeze to-night!"
205:167,22[A  ]| "At any rate,"
205:167,22['  ]| said Elinor, wishing to prevent
205:167,23['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings from seeing her sister's thoughts as clearly
205:167,24['  ]| as she did,
205:167,24[A  ]| "I dare say we shall have Sir*John and
205:167,25[A  ]| Lady*Middleton in town by the end of next week."
205:167,26[K  ]| "Aye, my dear, I'll warrant you we do.  Mary always
205:167,27[K  ]| has her own way."
205:167,28@a   | "And now,"
205:167,28['  ]| silently conjectured Elinor,
205:167,28@a   | "she will
205:167,29@a   | write to Combe by this day's post."
205:167,30['  ]| But if she \did\, the letter was written and sent away
205:167,31['  ]| with a privacy which eluded all her watchfulness to
205:167,32['  ]| ascertain the fact.  Whatever the truth of it might be,
205:167,33['  ]| and far as Elinor was from feeling thorough contentment
205:168,01['  ]| about it, yet while she saw Marianne in spirits, she could
205:168,02['  ]| not be very uncomfortable herself.  And Marianne was
205:168,03['  ]| in spirits; happy in the mildness of the weather, and
205:168,04['  ]| still happier in her expectation of a frost.
205:168,05['  ]| The morning was chiefly spent in leaving cards at the
205:168,06['  ]| houses of Mrs%*Jennings's acquaintance to inform them
205:168,07['  ]| of her being in town; and Marianne was all the time
205:168,08['  ]| busy in observing the direction of the wind, watching
205:168,09['  ]| the variations of the sky and imagining an alteration in
205:168,10['  ]| the air.
205:168,11[C  ]| "Don't you find it colder than it was in the morning,
205:168,12[C  ]| Elinor?  There seems to me a very decided difference.
205:168,13[C  ]| I can hardly keep my hands warm even in my muff.
205:168,14[C  ]| It was not so yesterday, I think.  The clouds seem
205:168,15[C  ]| parting too, the sun will be out in a moment; and we
205:168,16[C  ]| shall have a clear afternoon."
205:168,17['  ]| Elinor was alternately diverted and pained; but
205:168,18['  ]| Marianne persevered, and saw every night in the brightness
205:168,19['  ]| of the fire, and every morning in the appearance
205:168,20['  ]| of the atmosphere, the certain symptoms of approaching
205:168,21['  ]| frost.
205:168,22['  ]| The Miss*Dashwoods had no greater reason to be
205:168,23['  ]| dissatisfied with Mrs%*Jennings's style of living, and set
205:168,24['  ]| of acquaintance, than with her behaviour to themselves,
205:168,25['  ]| which was invariably kind.  Every*thing in her household
205:168,26['  ]| arrangements was conducted on the most liberal
205:168,27['  ]| plan, and excepting a few old city friends, whom, to
205:168,28['  ]| Lady*Middleton's regret, she had never dropped, she
205:168,29['  ]| visited no*one, to whom an introduction could at all
205:168,30['  ]| discompose the feelings of her young companions.
205:168,31['  ]| Pleased to find herself more comfortably situated in
205:168,32['  ]| that particular than she had expected, Elinor was very
205:168,33['  ]| willing to compound for the want of much real enjoyment
205:168,34['  ]| from any of their evening parties, which, whether
205:168,35['  ]| at home or abroad, formed only for cards, could have
205:168,36['  ]| little to amuse her.
205:168,37['  ]| Colonel*Brandon, who had a general invitation to the
205:168,38['  ]| house, was with them almost every day; he came to
205:169,01['  ]| look at Marianne and talk to Elinor, who often derived
205:169,02['  ]| more satisfaction from conversing with him than from
205:169,03['  ]| any other daily occurrence, but who saw at the same
205:169,04['  ]| time with much concern his continued regard for her
205:169,05['  ]| sister.  She feared it was a strengthening regard.  It
205:169,06['  ]| grieved her to see the earnestness with which he often
205:169,07['  ]| watched Marianne, and his spirits were certainly worse
205:169,08['  ]| than when at Barton.
205:169,09['  ]| About a week after their arrival it became certain
205:169,10['  ]| that Willoughby was also arrived.  His card was on the
205:169,11['  ]| table, when they came in from the morning's drive.
205:169,12[C  ]| "Good God!"
205:169,12['  ]| cried Marianne,
205:169,12[C  ]| "he has been here
205:169,13[C  ]| while we were out."
205:169,13['  ]| Elinor, rejoiced to be assured of
205:169,14['  ]| his being in London, now ventured to say,
205:169,14[A  ]| "depend
205:169,15[A  ]| upon it he will call again to-morrow."
205:169,15['  ]| But Marianne
205:169,16['  ]| seemed hardly to hear her, and on Mrs%*Jennings's
205:169,17['  ]| entrance, escaped with the precious card.
205:169,18['  ]| This event, while it raised the spirits of Elinor, restored
205:169,19['  ]| to those of her sister, all, and more than all, their former
205:169,20['  ]| agitation.  From this moment her mind was never quiet;
205:169,21['  ]| the expectation of seeing him every hour of the day,
205:169,22['  ]| made her unfit for anything.  She insisted on being left
205:169,23['  ]| behind, the next morning, when the others went out.
205:169,24['  ]| Elinor's thoughts were full of what might be passing
205:169,25['  ]| in Berkeley-street during their absence; but a moment's
205:169,26['  ]| glance at her sister when they returned was enough to
205:169,27['  ]| inform her, that Willoughby had paid no second visit
205:169,28['  ]| there.  A note was just then brought in, and laid on
205:169,29['  ]| the table.
205:169,30[C  ]| "For me?"
205:169,30['  ]| cried Marianne, stepping hastily forward.
205:169,31[W  ]| "No, ma'am, for my mistress."
205:169,32['  ]| But Marianne, not convinced, took it instantly up.
205:169,33[C  ]| "It is indeed for Mrs%*Jennings; how provoking!"
205:169,34[A  ]| "You are expecting a letter then?"
205:169,34['  ]| said Elinor,
205:169,35['  ]| unable to be longer silent.
205:169,36[C  ]| "Yes, a little ~~ not much."
205:169,37['  ]| After a short pause,
205:169,37[A  ]| "you have no confidence in me,
205:169,38[A  ]| Marianne."
205:170,01[C  ]| "Nay, Elinor, this reproach from \you\ ~~ you who have
205:170,02[C  ]| confidence in no*one!"
205:170,03[A  ]| "Me!"
205:170,03['  ]| returned Elinor in some confusion;
205:170,03[A  ]| "indeed,
205:170,04[A  ]| Marianne, I have nothing to tell."
205:170,05[C  ]| "Nor I,"
205:170,05['  ]| answered Marianne with energy,
205:170,05[C  ]| "our situations
205:170,06[C  ]| then are alike.  We have neither of us any*thing
205:170,07[C  ]| to tell; you, because you communicate, and I, because
205:170,08[C  ]| I conceal nothing."
205:170,09['  ]| Elinor, distressed by this charge of reserve in herself,
205:170,10['  ]| which she was not at liberty to do away, knew not how,
205:170,11['  ]| under such circumstances, to press for greater openness
205:170,12['  ]| in Marianne.
205:170,13['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings soon appeared, and the note being given
205:170,14['  ]| her, she read it aloud.  It was from Lady*Middleton,
205:170,15['  ]| announcing their arrival in Conduit-street the night
205:170,16['  ]| before, and requesting the company of her mother and
205:170,17['  ]| cousins the following evening.  Business on Sir*John's
205:170,18['  ]| part, and a violent cold on her own, prevented their
205:170,19['  ]| calling in Berkeley-street.  The invitation was accepted:
205:170,20['  ]| but when the hour of appointment drew near, necessary
205:170,21['  ]| as it was in common civility to Mrs%*Jennings, that they
205:170,22['  ]| should both attend her on such a visit, Elinor had
205:170,23['  ]| some difficulty in persuading her sister to go, for still
205:170,24['  ]| she had seen nothing of Willoughby; and therefore
205:170,25['  ]| was not more indisposed for amusement abroad, than
205:170,26['  ]| unwilling to run the risk of his calling again in her
205:170,27['  ]| absence.
205:170,28['  ]| Elinor found, when the evening was over, that disposition
205:170,29['  ]| is not materially altered by a change of abode,
205:170,30['  ]| for although scarcely settled in town, Sir*John had contrived
205:170,31['  ]| to collect around him, nearly twenty young people,
205:170,32['  ]| and to amuse them with a ball.  This was an affair,
205:170,33['  ]| however, of which Lady*Middleton did not approve.  In
205:170,34['  ]| the country, an unpremeditated dance was very allowable;
205:170,35['  ]| but in London, where the reputation of elegance
205:170,36['  ]| was more important and less easily attained, it was
205:170,37['  ]| risking too much for the gratification of a few girls, to
205:170,38['  ]| have it known that Lady*Middleton had given a small
205:171,01['  ]| dance of eight or nine couple, with two violins, and
205:171,02['  ]| a mere side-board collation.
205:171,03['  ]| Mr% and Mrs%*Palmer were of the party; from the
205:171,04['  ]| former, whom they had not seen before since their
205:171,05['  ]| arrival in town, as he was careful to avoid the appearance
205:171,06['  ]| of any attention to his mother-in-law, and therefore
205:171,07['  ]| never came near her, they received no mark of recognition
205:171,08['  ]| on their entrance.  He looked at them slightly,
205:171,09['  ]| without seeming to know who they were, and merely
205:171,10['  ]| nodded to Mrs%*Jennings from the other side of the
205:171,11['  ]| room.  Marianne gave one glance round the apartment
205:171,12['  ]| as she entered; it was enough, \he\ was not there ~~ and
205:171,13['  ]| she sat down, equally ill-disposed to receive or communicate
205:171,14['  ]| pleasure.  After they had been assembled
205:171,15['  ]| about an hour, Mr%*Palmer sauntered towards the Miss*Dashwoods
205:171,16['  ]| to express his surprise on seeing them in
205:171,17['  ]| town, though Colonel*Brandon had been first informed
205:171,18['  ]| of their arrival at his house, and he had himself said
205:171,19['  ]| something very droll on hearing that they were to come.
205:171,20[N  ]| "I thought you were both in Devonshire,"
205:171,20['  ]| said he.
205:171,21[A  ]| "Did you?"
205:171,21['  ]| replied Elinor.
205:171,22[N  ]| "When do you go back again?"
205:171,23[A  ]| "I do not know."
205:171,23['  ]| And thus ended their discourse.
205:171,24['  ]| Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance in
205:171,25['  ]| her life, as she was that evening, and never so much
205:171,26['  ]| fatigued by the exercise.  She complained of it as they
205:171,27['  ]| returned to Berkeley-street.
205:171,28[K  ]| "Aye, aye,"
205:171,28['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
205:171,28[K  ]| "we know the reason
205:171,29[K  ]| of all that very well; if a certain person who shall be
205:171,30[K  ]| nameless, had been there, you would not have been
205:171,31[K  ]| a bit tired:  and to say the truth it was not very pretty
205:171,32[K  ]| of him not to give you the meeting when he was invited."
205:171,33[C  ]| "Invited!"
205:171,33['  ]| cried Marianne.
205:171,34[K  ]| "So my daughter Middleton told me, for it seems
205:171,35[K  ]| Sir*John met him somewhere in the street this morning."
205:171,36['  ]| Marianne said no more, but looked exceedingly hurt.
205:171,37['  ]| Impatient in this situation to be doing something that
205:171,38['  ]| might lead to her sister's relief, Elinor resolved to write
205:172,01['  ]| the next morning to her mother, and hoped by awakening
205:172,02['  ]| her fears for the health of Marianne, to procure those
205:172,03['  ]| inquiries which had been so long delayed; and she was
205:172,04['  ]| still more eagerly bent on this measure by perceiving
205:172,05['  ]| after breakfast on the morrow, that Marianne was again
205:172,06['  ]| writing to Willoughby, for she could not suppose it to
205:172,07['  ]| be to any other person.
205:172,08['  ]| About the middle of the day, Mrs%*Jennings went out
205:172,09['  ]| by herself on business, and Elinor began her letter
205:172,10['  ]| directly, while Marianne, too restless for employment,
205:172,11['  ]| too anxious for conversation, walked from one window
205:172,12['  ]| to the other, or sat down by the fire in melancholy
205:172,13['  ]| meditation.  Elinor was very earnest in her application
205:172,14['  ]| to her mother, relating all that had passed, her suspicions
205:172,15['  ]| of Willoughby's inconstancy, urging her by every plea
205:172,16['  ]| of duty and affection to demand from Marianne, an
205:172,17['  ]| account of her real situation with respect to him.
205:172,18['  ]| Her letter was scarcely finished, when a rap foretold
205:172,19['  ]| a visitor, and Colonel*Brandon was announced.  Marianne,
205:172,20['  ]| who had seen him from the window, and who
205:172,21['  ]| hated company of any kind, left the room before he
205:172,22['  ]| entered it.  He looked more than usually grave, and
205:172,23['  ]| though expressing satisfaction at finding Miss*Dashwood
205:172,24['  ]| alone, as if he had somewhat in particular to tell her,
205:172,25['  ]| sat for some time without saying a word.  Elinor, persuaded
205:172,26['  ]| that he had some communication to make in
205:172,27['  ]| which her sister was concerned, impatiently expected its
205:172,28['  ]| opening.  It was not the first time of her feeling the
205:172,29['  ]| same kind of conviction; for more than once before,
205:172,30['  ]| beginning with the observation of
205:172,30[H  ]| "your sister looks
205:172,31[H  ]| unwell to-day,"
205:172,31['  ]| or
205:172,31[H  ]| "your sister seems out of spirits,"
205:172,32['  ]| he had appeared on the point, either of disclosing, or
205:172,33['  ]| of inquiring, something particular about her.  After
205:172,34['  ]| a pause of several minutes, their silence was broken, by
205:172,35['  ]| his asking her in a voice of some agitation,
205:172,35@h   | when he was
205:172,36@h   | to congratulate her on the acquisition of a brother?
205:172,37['  ]| Elinor was not prepared for such a question, and having
205:172,38['  ]| no answer ready, was obliged to adopt the simple and
205:173,01['  ]| common expedient, of asking what he meant?  He tried
205:173,02['  ]| to smile as he replied,
205:173,02[H  ]| "your sister's engagement to
205:173,03[H  ]| Mr%*Willoughby is very generally known."
205:173,04[A  ]| "It cannot be generally known,"
205:173,04['  ]| returned Elinor,
205:173,05[A  ]| "for her own family do not know it."
205:173,06['  ]| He looked surprised and said,
205:173,06[H  ]| "I beg your pardon,
205:173,07[H  ]| I am afraid my inquiry has been impertinent; but I had
205:173,08[H  ]| not supposed any secrecy intended, as they openly correspond,
205:173,09[H  ]| and their marriage is universally talked of."
205:173,10[A  ]| "How can that be?  By whom can you have heard
205:173,11[A  ]| it mentioned?"
205:173,12[H  ]| "By many ~~ by some of whom you know nothing, by
205:173,13[H  ]| others with whom you are most intimate, Mrs%*Jennings,
205:173,14[H  ]| Mrs%*Palmer, and the Middletons.  But still I might not
205:173,15[H  ]| have believed it, for where the mind is perhaps rather
205:173,16[H  ]| unwilling to be convinced, it will always find something
205:173,17[H  ]| to support its doubts, if I had not, when the servant
205:173,18[H  ]| let me in to-day, accidentally seen a letter in his hand,
205:173,19[H  ]| directed to Mr%*Willoughby in your sister's writing.
205:173,20[H  ]| I came to inquire, but I was convinced before I could
205:173,21[H  ]| ask the question.  Is every*thing finally settled?  Is it
205:173,22[H  ]| impossible to ~~?  But I have no right, and I could
205:173,23[H  ]| have no chance of succeeding.  Excuse me, Miss*Dashwood.
205:173,24[H  ]| I believe I have been wrong in saying so much,
205:173,25[H  ]| but I hardly know what to do, and on your prudence
205:173,26[H  ]| I have the strongest dependence.  Tell me that it is all
205:173,27[H  ]| absolutely resolved on, that any attempt, that in short
205:173,28[H  ]| concealment, if concealment be possible, is all that
205:173,29[H  ]| remains."
205:173,30['  ]| These words, which conveyed to Elinor a direct avowal
205:173,31['  ]| of his love for her sister, affected her very much.  She
205:173,32['  ]| was not immediately able to say anything, and even
205:173,33['  ]| when her spirits were recovered, she debated for a short
205:173,34['  ]| time, on the answer it would be most proper to give.
205:173,35['  ]| The real state of things between Willoughby and her
205:173,36['  ]| sister was so little known to herself, that in endeavouring
205:173,37['  ]| to explain it, she might be as liable to say too much as
205:173,38['  ]| too little.  Yet as she was convinced that Marianne's
205:174,01['  ]| affection for Willoughby, could leave no hope of
Colonel*Brandon's
205:174,02['  ]| success, whatever the event of that affection
205:174,03['  ]| might be, and at the same time wished to shield her
205:174,04['  ]| conduct from censure, she thought it most prudent and
205:174,05['  ]| kind, after some consideration, to say more than she
205:174,06['  ]| really knew or believed.  She acknowledged, therefore,
205:174,07['  ]| that
205:174,07@a   | though she had never been informed by themselves
205:174,08@a   | of the terms on which they stood with each other, of
205:174,09@a   | their mutual affection she had no doubt, and of their
205:174,10@a   | correspondence she was not astonished to hear.
205:174,11['  ]| He listened to her with silent attention, and on her
205:174,12['  ]| ceasing to speak, rose directly from his seat, and after
205:174,13['  ]| saying in a voice of emotion,
205:174,13[H  ]| "to your sister I wish all
205:174,14[H  ]| imaginable happiness; to Willoughby that he may
205:174,15[H  ]| endeavour to deserve her," ~~
205:174,15['  ]| took leave, and went away.
205:174,16['  ]| Elinor derived no comfortable feelings from this conversation,
205:174,17['  ]| to lessen the uneasiness of her mind on other
205:174,18['  ]| points; she was left, on the contrary, with a melancholy
205:174,19['  ]| impression of Colonel*Brandon's unhappiness, and was
205:174,20['  ]| prevented even from wishing it removed, by her anxiety
205:174,21['  ]| for the very event that must confirm it.
206:175,01['  ]| Nothing occurred during the next three or four days,
206:175,02['  ]| to make Elinor regret what she had done, in applying
206:175,03['  ]| to her mother; for Willoughby neither came nor wrote.
206:175,04['  ]| The were engaged about the end of that time to attend
206:175,05['  ]| Lady*Middleton to a party, from which Mrs%*Jennings
206:175,06['  ]| was kept away by the indisposition of her youngest
206:175,07['  ]| daughter; and for this party, Marianne, wholly
206:175,08['  ]| dispirited, careless of her appearance, and seeming
206:175,09['  ]| equally indifferent whether she went or staid, prepared,
206:175,10['  ]| without one look of hope, or one expression of pleasure.
206:175,11['  ]| She sat by the drawing*room fire after tea, till the
206:175,12['  ]| moment of Lady*Middleton's arrival, without once
206:175,13['  ]| stirring from her seat, or altering her attitude, lost in
206:175,14['  ]| her own thoughts and insensible of her sister's presence;
206:175,15['  ]| and when at last they were told that Lady*Middleton
206:175,16['  ]| waited for them at the door, she started as if she had
206:175,17['  ]| forgotten that any*one was expected.
206:175,18['  ]| They arrived in due time at the place of destination,
206:175,19['  ]| and as soon as the string of carriages before them would
206:175,20['  ]| allow, alighted, ascended the stairs, heard their names
206:175,21['  ]| announced from one landing-place to another in an
206:175,22['  ]| audible voice, and entered a room splendidly lit up,
206:175,23['  ]| quite full of company, and insufferably hot.  When they
206:175,24['  ]| had paid their tribute of politeness by curtesying to the
206:175,25['  ]| lady of the house, they were permitted to mingle in
206:175,26['  ]| the croud, and take their share of the heat and inconvenience,
206:175,27['  ]| to which their arrival must necessarily add.
206:175,28['  ]| After some time spent in saying little and doing less,
206:175,29['  ]| Lady*Middleton sat down to Casino, and as Marianne
206:175,30['  ]| was not in spirits for moving about, she and Elinor
206:175,31['  ]| luckily succeeding to chairs, placed themselves at no
206:175,32['  ]| great distance from the table.
206:175,33['  ]| They had not remained in this manner long, before
206:176,01['  ]| Elinor perceived Willoughby, standing within a few
206:176,02['  ]| yards of them, in earnest conversation with a very
206:176,03['  ]| fashionable looking young woman.  She soon caught his
206:176,04['  ]| eye, and he immediately bowed, but without attempting
206:176,05['  ]| to speak to her, or to approach Marianne, though he
206:176,06['  ]| could not but see her; and then continued his discourse
206:176,07['  ]| with the same lady.  Elinor turned involuntarily to
206:176,08['  ]| Marianne, to see whether it could be unobserved by her.
206:176,09['  ]| At that moment she first perceived him, and her whole
206:176,10['  ]| countenance glowing with sudden delight, she would
206:176,11['  ]| have moved towards him instantly, had not her sister
206:176,12['  ]| caught hold of her.
206:176,13[C  ]| "Good heavens!"
206:176,13['  ]| she exclaimed,
206:176,13[C  ]| "he is there ~~ he
206:176,14[C  ]| is there ~~ Oh! why does he not look at me?  why cannot
206:176,15[C  ]| I speak to him?"
206:176,16[A  ]| "Pray, pray be composed,"
206:176,16['  ]| cried Elinor,
206:176,16[A  ]| "and do
206:176,17[A  ]| not betray what you feel to every*body present.  Perhaps
206:176,18[A  ]| he has not observed you yet."
206:176,19['  ]| This however was more than she could believe herself;
206:176,20['  ]| and to be composed at such a moment was not only
206:176,21['  ]| beyond the reach of Marianne, it was beyond her wish.
206:176,22['  ]| She sat in an agony of impatience, which affected every
206:176,23['  ]| feature.
206:176,24['  ]| At last he turned round again, and regarded them
206:176,25['  ]| both; she started up, and pronouncing his name in
206:176,26['  ]| a tone of affection, held out her hand to him.  He
206:176,27['  ]| approached, and addressing himself rather to Elinor
206:176,28['  ]| than Marianne, as if wishing to avoid her eye, and
206:176,29['  ]| determined not to observe her attitude, inquired in
206:176,30['  ]| a hurried manner after Mrs%*Dashwood, and asked how
206:176,31['  ]| long they had been in town.  Elinor was robbed of all
206:176,32['  ]| presence of mind by such an address, and was unable
206:176,33['  ]| to say a word.  But the feelings of her sister were
206:176,34['  ]| instantly expressed.  Her face was crimsoned over, and
206:176,35['  ]| she exclaimed in a voice of the greatest emotion,
206:176,35[C  ]| "Good
206:176,36[C  ]| God!  Willoughby, what is the meaning of this?  Have
206:176,37[C  ]| you not received my letters?  Will you not shake hands
206:176,38[C  ]| with me?"
206:177,01['  ]| He could not then avoid it, but her touch seemed
206:177,02['  ]| painful to him, and he held her hand only for a moment.
206:177,03['  ]| During all this time he was evidently struggling for
206:177,04['  ]| composure.  Elinor watched his countenance and saw
206:177,05['  ]| its expression becoming more tranquil.  After a moment's
206:177,06['  ]| pause, he spoke with calmness.
206:177,07[R  ]| "I did myself the honour of calling in Berkeley-street
206:177,08[R  ]| last Tuesday, and very much regretted that I was not
206:177,09[R  ]| fortunate enough to find yourselves and Mrs%*Jennings
206:177,10[R  ]| at home.  My card was not lost, I hope."
206:177,11[C  ]| "But have you not received my notes?"
206:177,11['  ]| cried Marianne
206:177,12['  ]| in the wildest anxiety.
206:177,12[C  ]| "Here is some mistake
206:177,13[C  ]| I am sure ~~ some dreadful mistake.  What can be the
206:177,14[C  ]| meaning of it?  Tell me, Willoughby; for heaven's sake
206:177,15[C  ]| tell me, what is the matter?"
206:177,16['  ]| He made no reply; his complexion changed and all
206:177,17['  ]| his embarrassment returned; but as if, on catching the
206:177,18['  ]| eye of the young lady with whom he had been previously
206:177,19['  ]| talking, he felt the necessity of instant exertion, he
206:177,20['  ]| recovered himself again, and after saying,
206:177,20[R  ]| "Yes, I had
206:177,21[R  ]| the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival
206:177,22[R  ]| in town, which you were so good as to send me,"
206:177,22['  ]| turned
206:177,23['  ]| hastily away with a slight bow and joined his friend.
206:177,24['  ]| Marianne, now looking dreadfully white, and unable
206:177,25['  ]| to stand, sunk into her chair, and Elinor, expecting
206:177,26['  ]| every moment to see her faint, tried to screen her from
206:177,27['  ]| the observation of others, while reviving her with
206:177,28['  ]| lavendar water.
206:177,29[C  ]| "Go to him, Elinor,"
206:177,29['  ]| she cried, as soon as she could
206:177,30['  ]| speak,
206:177,30[C  ]| "and force him to come to me.  Tell him I must
206:177,31[C  ]| see him again ~~ must speak to him instantly. ~~ I cannot
206:177,32[C  ]| rest ~~ I shall not have a moment's peace till this is
206:177,33[C  ]| explained ~~ some dreadful misapprehension or other. ~~
206:177,34[C  ]| Oh go to him this moment."
206:177,35[A  ]| "How can that be done?  No, my dearest Marianne,
206:177,36[A  ]| you must wait.  This is not a place for explanations.
206:177,37[A  ]| Wait only till to-morrow."
206:177,38['  ]| With difficulty however could she prevent her from
206:178,01['  ]| following him herself; and to persuade her to check her
206:178,02['  ]| agitation, to wait, at least, with the appearance of composure,
206:178,03['  ]| till she might speak to him with more privacy
206:178,04['  ]| and more effect, was impossible; for Marianne continued
206:178,05['  ]| incessantly to give way in a low voice to the misery of
206:178,06['  ]| her feelings, by exclamations of wretchedness.  In a short
206:178,07['  ]| time Elinor saw Willoughby quit the room by the door
206:178,08['  ]| towards the staircase, and telling Marianne that he was
206:178,09['  ]| gone, urged the impossibility of speaking to him again
206:178,10['  ]| that evening, as a fresh argument for her to be calm.
206:178,11['  ]| She instantly begged her sister would entreat Lady*Middleton
206:178,12['  ]| to take them home, as she was too miserable
206:178,13['  ]| to stay a minute longer.
206:178,14['  ]| Lady*Middleton, though in the middle of a rubber,
206:178,15['  ]| on being informed that Marianne was unwell, was too
206:178,16['  ]| polite to object for a moment to her wish of going away,
206:178,17['  ]| and making over her cards to a friend, they departed as
206:178,18['  ]| soon as the carriage could be found.  Scarcely a word was
206:178,19['  ]| spoken during their return to Berkeley-street.  Marianne
206:178,20['  ]| was in a silent agony, too much oppressed even for tears;
206:178,21['  ]| but as Mrs%*Jennings was luckily not come home, they
206:178,22['  ]| could go directly to their own room, where hartshorn
206:178,23['  ]| restored her a little to herself.  She was soon undressed
206:178,24['  ]| and in bed, and as she seemed desirous of being alone,
206:178,25['  ]| her sister then left her, and while she waited the return
206:178,26['  ]| of Mrs%*Jennings, had leisure enough for thinking over
206:178,27['  ]| the past.
206:178,28@a   | That some kind of engagement had subsisted between
206:178,29@a   | Willoughby and Marianne she could not doubt; and
206:178,30@a   | that Willoughby was weary of it, seemed equally clear;
206:178,31@a   | for however Marianne might still feed her own wishes,
206:178,32@a   | \she\ could not attribute such behaviour to mistake or
206:178,33@a   | misapprehension of any kind.  Nothing but a thorough
206:178,34@a   | change of sentiment could account for it.
206:178,34['  ]| Her indignation
206:178,35['  ]| would have been still stronger than it was, had she
206:178,36['  ]| not witnessed that embarrassment which seemed to
206:178,37['  ]| speak a consciousness of his own misconduct, and prevented
206:178,38['  ]| her from believing him so unprincipled as to
206:179,01['  ]| have been sporting with the affections of her sister from
206:179,02['  ]| the first, without any design that would bear investigation.
206:179,03@a   | Absence might have weakened his regard, and
206:179,04@a   | convenience might have determined him to overcome it,
206:179,05@a   | but that such a regard had formerly existed she could
206:179,05@a   | not bring herself to doubt.
206:179,06@a   | As for Marianne, on the pangs which so unhappy
206:179,07@a   | a meeting must already have given her, and on those
206:179,08@a   | still more severe which might await her in its probable
206:179,09@a   | consequence, she could not reflect without the deepest
206:179,10@a   | concern.  Her own situation gained in the comparison;
206:179,11@a   | for while she could \esteem\ Edward as much as ever,
206:179,12@a   | however they might be divided in future, her mind
206:179,13@a   | might be always supported.  But every circumstance
206:179,14@a   | that could embitter such an evil seemed uniting to
206:179,15@a   | heighten the misery of Marianne in a final separation
206:179,16@a   | from Willoughby ~~ in an immediate and irreconcileable
206:179,17@a   | rupture with him.
207:180,01['  ]| Before the house-maid had lit their fire the next day,
207:180,02['  ]| or the sun gained any power over a cold, gloomy morning
207:180,03['  ]| in January, Marianne, only half*dressed, was kneeling
207:180,04['  ]| against one of the window-seats for the sake of all the
207:180,05['  ]| little light she could command from it, and writing as
207:180,06['  ]| fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her.  In
207:180,07['  ]| this situation, Elinor, roused from sleep by her agitation
207:180,08['  ]| and sobs, first perceived her; and after observing her
207:180,09['  ]| for a few moments with silent anxiety, said, in a tone
207:180,10['  ]| of the most considerate gentleness,
207:180,11[A  ]| "Marianne, may I ask?" ~~
207:180,12[C  ]| "No, Elinor,"
207:180,12['  ]| she replied,
207:180,12[C  ]| "ask nothing; you will
207:180,13[C  ]| soon know all."
207:180,14['  ]| The sort of desperate calmness with which this was
207:180,15['  ]| said, lasted no longer than while she spoke, and was
207:180,16['  ]| immediately followed by a return of the same excessive
207:180,17['  ]| affliction.  It was some minutes before she could go on
207:180,18['  ]| with her letter, and the frequent bursts of grief which
207:180,19['  ]| still obliged her, at intervals, to withhold her pen, were
207:180,20['  ]| proofs enough of her feeling how more than probable it
207:180,21['  ]| was that she was writing for the last time to Willoughby.
207:180,22['  ]| Elinor paid her every quiet and unobtrusive attention
207:180,23['  ]| in her power; and she would have tried to sooth and
207:180,24['  ]| tranquillize her still more, had not Marianne entreated
207:180,25['  ]| her, with all the eagerness of the most nervous irritability,
207:180,26@c   | not to speak to her for the world.
207:180,26['  ]| In such circumstances,
207:180,27['  ]| it was better for both that they should not be long
207:180,28['  ]| together; and the restless state of Marianne's mind not
207:180,29['  ]| only prevented her from remaining in the room a moment
207:180,30['  ]| after she was dressed, but requiring at once solitude and
207:180,31['  ]| continual change of place, made her wander about the
207:180,32['  ]| house till breakfast time, avoiding the sight of every*body.
207:180,33['  ]|
207:181,01['  ]| At breakfast she neither ate, nor attempted to eat
207:181,02['  ]| any*thing; and Elinor's attention was then all employed,
207:181,03['  ]| not in urging her, not in pitying her, nor in appearing
207:181,04['  ]| to regard her, but in endeavouring to engage Mrs%*Jennings's
207:181,05['  ]| notice entirely to herself.
207:181,06['  ]| As this was a favourite meal with Mrs%*Jennings, it
207:181,07['  ]| lasted a considerable time, and they were just setting
207:181,08['  ]| themselves, after it, round the common working*table,
207:181,09['  ]| when a letter was delivered to Marianne, which she
207:181,10['  ]| eagerly caught from the servant, and, turning of a death-like
207:181,11['  ]| paleness, instantly ran out of the room.  Elinor,
207:181,12['  ]| who saw as plainly by this, as if she had seen the direction,
207:181,13['  ]| that it must come from Willoughby, felt immediately
207:181,14['  ]| such a sickness at heart as made her hardly able
207:181,15['  ]| to hold up her head, and sat in such a general tremour
207:181,16['  ]| as made her fear it impossible to escape Mrs%*Jennings's
207:181,17['  ]| notice.  That good lady, however, saw only that Marianne
207:181,18['  ]| had received a letter from Willoughby, which
207:181,19['  ]| appeared to her a very good joke, and which she treated
207:181,20['  ]| accordingly, by hoping, with a laugh, that she would
207:181,21['  ]| find it to her liking.  Of Elinor's distress, she was too
207:181,22['  ]| busily employed in measuring lengths of worsted for her
207:181,23['  ]| rug, to see any*thing at all; and calmly continuing
207:181,24['  ]| her talk, as soon as Marianne disappeared, she said,
207:181,25[K  ]| "Upon my word I never saw a young woman so
207:181,26[K  ]| desperately in love in my life!  \My\ girls were nothing
207:181,27[K  ]| to her, and yet they used to be foolish enough; but as
207:181,28[K  ]| for Miss*Marianne, she is quite an altered creature.
207:181,29[K  ]| I hope, from the bottom of my heart, he wo'nt keep
207:181,30[K  ]| her waiting much longer, for it is quite grievous to see
207:181,31[K  ]| her look so ill and forlorn.  Pray, when are they to be
207:181,32[K  ]| married?"
207:181,33['  ]| Elinor, though never less disposed to speak than at
207:181,34['  ]| that moment, obliged herself to answer such an attack
207:181,35['  ]| as this, and, therefore, trying to smile, replied,
207:181,35[A  ]| "And
207:181,36[A  ]| have you really, Ma'am, talked yourself into a persuasion
207:181,37[A  ]| of my sister's being engaged to Mr%*Willoughby?
207:181,38[A  ]| I thought it had been only a joke, but so serious
207:182,01[A  ]| a question seems to imply more; and I must beg,
207:182,02[A  ]| therefore, that you will not deceive yourself any longer.
207:182,03[A  ]| I do assure you that nothing would surprise me more
207:182,04[A  ]| than to hear of their being going to be married."
207:182,05[K  ]| "For shame, for shame, Miss*Dashwood!  how can
207:182,06[K  ]| you talk so!  Don't we all know that it must be a match,
207:182,07[K  ]| that they were over head and ears in love with each
207:182,08[K  ]| other from the first moment they met?  Did not I see
207:182,09[K  ]| them together in Devonshire every day, and all day
207:182,10[K  ]| long; and did not I know that your sister came to
207:182,11[K  ]| town with me on purpose to buy wedding clothes?
207:182,12[K  ]| Come, come, this wo'nt do.  Because you are so sly
207:182,13[K  ]| about it yourself, you think nobody else has any senses;
207:182,14[K  ]| but it is no such thing, I can tell you, for it has been
207:182,15[K  ]| known all over town this ever so long.  I tell every*body
207:182,16[K  ]| of it and so does Charlotte."
207:182,17[A  ]| "Indeed, Ma'am,"
207:182,17['  ]| said Elinor, very seriously,
207:182,17[A  ]| "you
207:182,18[A  ]| are mistaken.  Indeed, you are doing a very unkind
207:182,19[A  ]| thing in spreading the report, and you will find that
207:182,20[A  ]| you have, though you will not believe me now."
207:182,21['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings laughed again, but Elinor had not
207:182,22['  ]| spirits to say more, and eager at all events to know
207:182,23['  ]| what Willoughby had written, hurried away to their
207:182,24['  ]| room, where, on opening the door, she saw Marianne
207:182,25['  ]| stretched on the bed, almost choked by grief, one letter
207:182,26['  ]| in her hand, and two or three others lying by her.
207:182,27['  ]| Elinor drew near, but without saying a word; and
207:182,28['  ]| seating herself on the bed, took her hand, kissed her
207:182,29['  ]| affectionately several times, and then gave way to
207:182,30['  ]| a burst of tears, which at first was scarcely less violent
207:182,31['  ]| than Marianne's.  The latter, though unable to speak,
207:182,32['  ]| seemed to feel all the tenderness of this behaviour, and
207:182,33['  ]| after some time thus spent in joint affliction, she put
207:182,34['  ]| all the letters into Elinor's hands; and then covering
207:182,35['  ]| her face with her handkerchief, almost screamed with
207:182,36['  ]| agony.  Elinor, who knew that such grief, shocking as
207:182,37['  ]| it was to witness it, must have its course, watched by
207:182,38['  ]| her till this excess of suffering had somewhat spent itself,
207:183,01['  ]| and then turning eagerly to Willoughby's letter, read as
207:183,02['  ]| follows:
207:183,03[R  ]|                                \Bond*Street\, \January\.
207:183,04[R  ]| MY DEAR MADAM,
207:183,05[R  ]| I have just had the honour of receiving your letter,
207:183,06[R  ]| for which I beg to return my sincere acknowledgments.
207:183,07[R  ]| I am much concerned to find there was any*thing in
207:183,08[R  ]| my behaviour last night that did not meet your approbation;
207:183,09[R  ]| and though I am quite at a loss to discover in
207:183,10[R  ]| what point I could be so unfortunate as to offend you,
207:183,11[R  ]| I entreat your forgiveness of what I can assure you to
207:183,12[R  ]| have been perfectly unintentional.  I shall never reflect
207:183,13[R  ]| on my former acquaintance with your family in Devonshire
207:183,14[R  ]| without the most grateful pleasure, and flatter
207:183,15[R  ]| myself it will not be broken by any mistake or misapprehension
207:183,16[R  ]| of my actions.  My esteem for your whole
207:183,17[R  ]| family is very sincere; but if I have been so unfortunate
207:183,18[R  ]| as to give rise to a belief of more than I felt, or meant
207:183,19[R  ]| to express, I shall reproach myself for not having been
207:183,20[R  ]| more guarded in my professions of that esteem.  That
207:183,21[R  ]| I should ever have meant more you will allow to be
207:183,22[R  ]| impossible, when you understand that my affections
207:183,23[R  ]| have been long engaged elsewhere, and it will not be
207:183,24[R  ]| many weeks, I believe, before this engagement is fulfilled.
207:183,25[R  ]| It is with great regret that I obey your commands
207:183,26[R  ]| of returning the letters, with which I have been honoured
207:183,27[R  ]| from you, and the lock of hair, which you so obligingly
207:183,28[R  ]| bestowed on me.
207:183,29[R  ]|           I am, dear Madam,
207:183,30[R  ]|               Your most obedient
207:183,31[R  ]|                  humble Servant,
207:183,32[R  ]|                              JOHN*WILLOUGHBY.
207:183,33[R  ]|
207:183,34['  ]| With what indignation such a letter as this must be
207:183,35['  ]| read by Miss*Dashwood, may be imagined.  Though
207:183,36['  ]| aware, before she began it, that it must bring a confession
207:183,37['  ]| of his inconstancy, and confirm their separation
207:183,38['  ]| for*ever, she was not aware that such language could
207:184,01['  ]| be suffered to announce it; nor could she have supposed
207:184,02['  ]| Willoughby capable of departing so far from the appearance
207:184,03['  ]| of every honourable and delicate feeling ~~ so far
207:184,04['  ]| from the common decorum of a gentleman, as to send
207:184,05['  ]| a letter so impudently cruel:  a letter which, instead of
207:184,06['  ]| bringing with his desire of a release any professions of
207:184,07['  ]| regret, acknowledged no breach of faith, denied all
207:184,08['  ]| peculiar affection whatever ~~ a letter of which every line
207:184,09['  ]| was an insult, and which proclaimed its writer to be
207:184,10['  ]| deep in hardened villany.
207:184,11['  ]| She paused over it for some time with indignant
207:184,12['  ]| astonishment; then read it again and again; but every
207:184,13['  ]| perusal only served to increase her abhorrence of the
207:184,14['  ]| man, and so bitter were her feelings against him, that
207:184,15['  ]| she dared not trust herself to speak, lest she might
207:184,16['  ]| wound Marianne still deeper by treating their disengagement,
207:184,17['  ]| not as a loss to her of any possible good but as
207:184,18['  ]| an escape from the worst and most irremediable of all
207:184,19['  ]| evils, a connection, for life, with an unprincipled man,
207:184,20['  ]| as a deliverance the most real, a blessing the most
207:184,21['  ]| important.
207:184,22['  ]| In her earnest meditations on the contents of the
207:184,23['  ]| letter, on the depravity of that mind which could dictate
207:184,24['  ]| it, and, probably, on the very different mind of a very
207:184,25['  ]| different person, who had no other connection whatever
207:184,26['  ]| with the affair than what her heart gave him with every*thing
207:184,27['  ]| that passed, Elinor forgot the immediate distress
207:184,28['  ]| of her sister, forgot that she had three letters on her lap
207:184,29['  ]| yet unread, and so entirely forgot how long she had
207:184,30['  ]| been in the room, that when on hearing a carriage drive
207:184,31['  ]| up to the door, she went to the window to see who
207:184,32['  ]| could be coming so unreasonably early, she was all
207:184,33['  ]| astonishment to perceive Mrs%*Jennings's chariot, which
207:184,34['  ]| she knew had not been ordered till one.  Determined
207:184,35['  ]| not to quit Marianne, though hopeless of contributing,
207:184,36['  ]| at present, to her ease, she hurried away to excuse
207:184,37['  ]| herself from attending Mrs%*Jennings, on account of her
207:184,38['  ]| sister being indisposed.  Mrs%*Jennings, with a thoroughly
207:185,01['  ]| good-humoured concern for its cause, admitted the
207:185,02['  ]| excuse most readily, and Elinor, after seeing her safe
207:185,03['  ]| off, returned to Marianne, whom she found attempting
207:185,04['  ]| to rise from the bed, and whom she reached just in time
207:185,05['  ]| to prevent her from falling on the floor, faint and giddy
207:185,06['  ]| from a long want of proper rest and food; for it was
207:185,07['  ]| many days since she had any appetite, and many nights
207:185,08['  ]| since she had really slept; and now, when her mind
207:185,09['  ]| was no longer supported by the fever of suspense, the
207:185,10['  ]| consequence of all this was felt in an aching head,
207:185,11['  ]| a weakened stomach, and a general nervous faintness.
207:185,12['  ]| A glass of wine, which Elinor procured for her directly,
207:185,13['  ]| made her more comfortable, and she was at last able
207:185,14['  ]| to express some sense of her kindness, by saying,
207:185,15[C  ]| "Poor Elinor! how unhappy I make you!"
207:185,16[A  ]| "I only wish,"
207:185,16['  ]| replied her sister,
207:185,16[A  ]| "there were any*thing
207:185,17[A  ]| I \could\ do, which might be of comfort to you."
207:185,18['  ]| This, as every*thing else would have been, was too
207:185,19['  ]| much for Marianne, who could only exclaim, in the
207:185,20['  ]| anguish of her heart,
207:185,20[C  ]| "Oh! Elinor, I am miserable
207:185,21[C  ]| indeed,"
207:185,21['  ]| before her voice was entirely lost in sobs.
207:185,22['  ]| Elinor could no longer witness this torrent of unresisted
207:185,23['  ]| grief in silence.
207:185,24[A  ]| "Exert yourself, dear Marianne,"
207:185,24['  ]| she cried,
207:185,24[A  ]| "if you
207:185,25[A  ]| would not kill yourself and all who love you.  Think of
207:185,26[A  ]| your mother; think of her misery while \you\ suffer; for
207:185,27[A  ]| her sake you must exert yourself."
207:185,28[C  ]| "I cannot, I cannot,"
207:185,28['  ]| cried Marianne;
207:185,28[C  ]| "leave me,
207:185,29[C  ]| leave me, if I distress you; leave me, hate me, forget
207:185,30[C  ]| me! but do not torture me so.  Oh! how easy for
207:185,31[C  ]| those who have no sorrow of their own to talk of exertion!
207:185,32[C  ]| Happy, happy Elinor, \you\ cannot have an idea
207:185,33[C  ]| of what I suffer."
207:185,34[A  ]| "Do you call \me\ happy, Marianne?  Ah! if you
207:185,35[A  ]| knew! ~~ And can you believe me to be so, while I see
207:185,36[A  ]| you so wretched!"
207:185,37[C  ]| "Forgive me, forgive me,"
207:185,37['  ]| throwing her arms round
207:185,38['  ]| her sister's neck;
207:185,38[C  ]| "I know you feel for me; I know
207:186,01[C  ]| what a heart you have; but yet you are ~~ you must be
207:186,02[C  ]| happy; Edward loves you ~~ what, oh! what can do
207:186,03[C  ]| away such happiness as that?"
207:186,04[A  ]| "Many, many circumstances,"
207:186,04['  ]| said Elinor, solemnly.
207:186,05[C  ]| "No, no, no,"
207:186,05['  ]| cried Marianne wildly,
207:186,05[C  ]| "he loves you,
207:186,06[C  ]| and only you.  You \can\ have no grief."
207:186,07[A  ]| "I can have no pleasure while I see you in this state."
207:186,08[C  ]| "And you will never see me otherwise.  Mine is
207:186,09[C  ]| a misery which nothing can do away."
207:186,10[A  ]| "You must not talk so, Marianne.  Have you no
207:186,11[A  ]| comforts?  no friends?  Is your loss such as leaves no
207:186,12[A  ]| opening for consolation?  Much as you suffer now, think
207:186,13[A  ]| of what you would have suffered if the discovery of his
207:186,14[A  ]| character had been delayed to a later period ~~ if your
207:186,15[A  ]| engagement had been carried on for months and months,
207:186,16[A  ]| as it might have been, before he chose to put an end
207:186,17[A  ]| to it.  Every additional day of unhappy confidence, on
207:186,18[A  ]| your side, would have made the blow more dreadful."
207:186,19[C  ]| "Engagement!"
207:186,19['  ]| cried Marianne,
207:186,19[C  ]| "there has been no
207:186,20[C  ]| engagement."
207:186,21[A  ]| "No engagement!"
207:186,22[C  ]| "No, he is not so unworthy as you believe him.  He
207:186,23[C  ]| has broken no faith with me."
207:186,24[A  ]| "But he told you that he loved you?" ~~
207:186,25[C  ]| "Yes ~~ no ~~ never absolutely.  It was every day
207:186,26[C  ]| implied, but never professedly declared.  Sometimes
207:186,27[C  ]| I thought it had been ~~ but it never was."
207:186,28[A  ]| "Yet you wrote to him?" ~~
207:186,29[C  ]| "Yes ~~ could that be wrong after all that had passed?
207:186,30[C  ]| ~~ But I cannot talk."
207:186,31['  ]| Elinor said no more, and turning again to the three
207:186,32['  ]| letters which now raised a much stronger curiosity than
207:186,33['  ]| before, directly ran over the contents of all.  The first,
207:186,34['  ]| which was what her sister had sent him on their arrival
207:186,35['  ]| in town, was to this effect.
207:186,36[C  ]|                             \Berkeley*Street\, \January\.
207:186,37[C  ]| How surprised you will be, Willoughby, on receiving
207:186,38[C  ]| this; and I think you will feel something more than
207:187,01[C  ]| surprise, when you know that I am in town.  An opportunity
207:187,02[C  ]| of coming hither, though with Mrs%*Jennings,
207:187,03[C  ]| was a temptation we could not resist.  I wish you may
207:187,04[C  ]| receive this in time to come here to-night, but I will
207:187,05[C  ]| not depend on it.  At any rate I shall expect you
207:187,06[C  ]| to-morrow.  For the present, adieu.
207:187,07[C  ]|                                           M%*D%
207:187,08['  ]| Her second note, which had been written on the
207:187,09['  ]| morning after the dance at the Middletons', was in
207:187,10['  ]| these words: ~~
207:187,11[C  ]| "I cannot express my disappointment in having
207:187,12[C  ]| missed you the day before yesterday, nor my astonishment
207:187,13[C  ]| at not having received any answer to a note which
207:187,14[C  ]| I sent you above a week ago.  I have been expecting
207:187,15[C  ]| to hear from you, and still more to see you, every hour
207:187,16[C  ]| of the day.  Pray call again as soon as possible, and
207:187,17[C  ]| explain the reason of my having expected this in vain.
207:187,18[C  ]| You had better come earlier another time, because we
207:187,19[C  ]| are generally out by one.  We were last night at Lady*Middleton's,
207:187,20[C  ]| where there was a dance.  I have been told
207:187,21[C  ]| that you were asked to be of the party.  But could it
207:187,22[C  ]| be so?  You must be very much altered indeed since
207:187,23[C  ]| we parted, if that could be the case, and you not there.
207:187,24[C  ]| But I will not suppose this possible, and I hope very
207:187,25[C  ]| soon to receive your personal assurance of its being
207:187,26[C  ]| otherwise."
207:187,27[C  ]|                                             M%*D%
207:187,28['  ]| The contents of her last note to him were these: ~~
207:187,29[C  ]| "What am I to imagine, Willoughby, by your
207:187,30[C  ]| behaviour last night?  Again I demand an explanation
207:187,31[C  ]| of it.  I was prepared to meet you with the pleasure
207:187,32[C  ]| which our separation naturally produced, with the
207:187,33[C  ]| familiarity which our intimacy at Barton appeared to
207:187,34[C  ]| me to justify.  I was repulsed indeed!  I have passed
207:187,35[C  ]| a wretched night in endeavouring to excuse a conduct
207:187,36[C  ]| which can scarcely be called less than insulting; but
207:187,37[C  ]| though I have not yet been able to form any reasonable
207:188,01[C  ]| apology for your behaviour, I am perfectly ready to
207:188,02[C  ]| hear your justification of it.  You have perhaps been
207:188,03[C  ]| misinformed, or purposely deceived, in something concerning
207:188,04[C  ]| me, which may have lowered me in your opinion.
207:188,05[C  ]| Tell me what it is, explain the grounds on which you
207:188,06[C  ]| acted, and I shall be satisfied, in being able to satisfy
207:188,07[C  ]| you.  It would grieve me indeed to be obliged to think
207:188,08[C  ]| ill of you; but if I am to do it, if I am to learn that
207:188,09[C  ]| you are not what we have hitherto believed you, that
207:188,10[C  ]| your regard for us all was insincere, that your behaviour
207:188,11[C  ]| to me was intended only to deceive, let it be told as
207:188,12[C  ]| soon as possible.  My feelings are at present in a state
207:188,13[C  ]| of dreadful indecision; I wish to acquit you, but certainty
207:188,14[C  ]| on either side will be ease to what I now suffer.
207:188,15[C  ]| If your sentiments are no longer what they were, you
207:188,16[C  ]| will return my notes, and the lock of my hair which is
207:188,17[C  ]| in your possession."
207:188,18[C  ]|                                               M%*D%
207:188,19['  ]| That such letters, so full of affection and confidence,
207:188,20['  ]| could have been so answered, Elinor, for Willoughby's
207:188,21['  ]| sake, would have been unwilling to believe.  But her
207:188,22['  ]| condemnation of him did not blind her to the impropriety
207:188,23['  ]| of their having been written at all; and she
207:188,24['  ]| was silently grieving over the imprudence which had
207:188,25['  ]| hazarded such unsolicited proofs of tenderness, not
207:188,26['  ]| warranted by anything preceding, and most severely
207:188,27['  ]| condemned by the event, when Marianne, perceiving
207:188,28['  ]| that she had finished the letters, observed to her that
207:188,29@c   | they contained nothing but what any*one would have
207:188,30@c   | written in the same situation.
207:188,31[C  ]| "I felt myself,"
207:188,31['  ]| she added,
207:188,31[C  ]| "to be as solemnly
207:188,32[C  ]| engaged to him, as if the strictest legal covenant had
207:188,33[C  ]| bound us to each other."
207:188,34[A  ]| "I can believe it,"
207:188,34['  ]| said Elinor;
207:188,34[A  ]| "but unfortunately
207:188,35[A  ]| he did not feel the same."
207:188,36[C  ]| "He \did\ feel the same, Elinor ~~ for weeks and weeks
207:188,37[C  ]| he felt it.  I know he did.  Whatever may have changed
207:188,38[C  ]| him now, (and nothing but the blackest art employed
207:189,01[C  ]| against me can have done it,) I was once as dear to him
207:189,02[C  ]| as my own soul could wish.  This lock of hair, which
207:189,03[C  ]| now he can so readily give up, was begged of me with
207:189,04[C  ]| the most earnest supplication.  Had you seen his look,
207:189,05[C  ]| his manner, had you heard his voice at that moment!
207:189,06[C  ]| Have you forgot the last evening of our being together
207:189,07[C  ]| at Barton?  The morning that we parted too!  When
207:189,08[C  ]| he told me that it might be many weeks before we meet
207:189,09[C  ]| again ~~ his distress ~~ can I ever forget his distress!"
207:189,10['  ]| For a moment or two she could say no more; but
207:189,11['  ]| when this emotion had passed away, she added, in
207:189,12['  ]| a firmer tone,
207:189,13[C  ]| "Elinor, I have been cruelly used; but not by
207:189,14[C  ]| Willoughby."
207:189,15[A  ]| "Dearest Marianne, who but himself?  By whom can
207:189,16[A  ]| he have been instigated?"
207:189,17[C  ]| "By all the world, rather than by his own heart.
207:189,18[C  ]| I could rather believe every creature of my acquaintance
207:189,19[C  ]| leagued together to ruin me in his opinion, than believe
207:189,20[C  ]| his nature capable of such cruelty.  This woman of
207:189,21[C  ]| whom he writes ~~ whoever she be ~~ or any*one, in short,
207:189,22[C  ]| but your own dear self, mama, and Edward, may have
207:189,23[C  ]| been so barbarous to bely me.  Beyond you three, is
207:189,24[C  ]| there a creature in the world whom I would not rather
207:189,25[C  ]| suspect of evil than Willoughby, whose heart I know
207:189,26[C  ]| so well?"
207:189,27['  ]| Elinor would not contend, and only replied,
207:189,27[A  ]| "Whoever
207:189,28[A  ]| may have been so detestably your enemy, let them
207:189,29[A  ]| be cheated of their malignant triumph, my dear sister,
207:189,30[A  ]| by seeing how nobly the consciousness of your own
207:189,31[A  ]| innocence and good intentions supports your spirits.
207:189,32[A  ]| It is a reasonable and laudable pride which resists such
207:189,33[A  ]| malevolence."
207:189,34[C  ]| "No, no,"
207:189,34['  ]| cried Marianne,
207:189,34[C  ]| "misery such as mine has
207:189,35[C  ]| no pride.  I care not who knows that I am wretched.
207:189,36[C  ]| The triumph of seeing me so may be open to all the
207:189,37[C  ]| world.  Elinor, Elinor, they who suffer little may be
207:189,38[C  ]| proud and independent as they like ~~ may resist insult,
207:190,01[C  ]| or return mortification ~~ but I cannot.  I must feel ~~
207:190,02[C  ]| I must be wretched ~~ and they are welcome to enjoy
207:190,03[C  ]| the consciousness of it that can."
207:190,04[A  ]| "But for my mother's sake and mine" ~~
207:190,05[C  ]| "I would do more than for my own.  But to appear
207:190,06[C  ]| happy when I am so miserable ~~ Oh!  who can require
207:190,07[C  ]| it?"
207:190,08['  ]| Again they were both silent.  Elinor was employed
207:190,09['  ]| in walking thoughtfully from the fire to the window,
207:190,10['  ]| from the window to the fire, without knowing that she
207:190,11['  ]| received warmth from one, or discerning objects through
207:190,12['  ]| the other; and Marianne, seated at the foot of the bed,
207:190,13['  ]| with her head leaning against one of its posts, again
207:190,14['  ]| took up Willoughby's letter, and after shuddering over
207:190,15['  ]| every sentence, exclaimed ~~
207:190,16[C  ]| "It is too much!  Oh!  Willoughby, Willoughby,
207:190,17[C  ]| could this be yours!  Cruel, cruel ~~ nothing can acquit
207:190,18[C  ]| you.  Elinor, nothing can.  Whatever he might have
207:190,19[C  ]| heard against me ~~ ought he not to have suspended his
207:190,20[C  ]| belief?  ought he not to have told me of it, to have
207:190,21[C  ]| given me the power of clearing myself?
207:190,21[R  ]| ""The lock of
207:190,22[R  ]| hair,
207:190,22['  ]| (repeating it from the letter,)
207:190,22[R  ]| which you so obligingly
207:190,23[R  ]| bestowed on me"" ~~
207:190,23[C  ]| That is unpardonable.  Willoughby,
207:190,24[C  ]| where was your heart, when you wrote those
207:190,25[C  ]| words?  Oh! barbarously insolent! ~~ Elinor, can he be
207:190,26[C  ]| justified?"
207:190,27[A  ]| "No, Marianne, in no possible way."
207:190,28[C  ]| "And yet this woman ~~ who knows what her art may
207:190,29[C  ]| have been ~~ how long it may have been premeditated,
207:190,30[C  ]| and how deeply contrived by her! ~~ Who is she?  ~~ Who
207:190,31[C  ]| can she be? ~~ Whom did I ever hear him talk of as
207:190,32[C  ]| young and attractive among his female acquaintance? ~~
207:190,33[C  ]| Oh! no*one, no*one ~~ he talked to me only of myself."
207:190,34['  ]| Another pause ensued; Marianne was greatly agitated,
207:190,35['  ]| and it ended thus.
207:190,36[C  ]| "Elinor, I must go home.  I must go and comfort
207:190,37[C  ]| mama.  Cannot we be gone to-morrow?"
207:190,38[A  ]| "To-morrow, Marianne!"
207:191,01[C  ]| "Yes; why should I stay here?  I came only for
207:191,02[C  ]| Willoughby's sake ~~ and now who cares for me?  Who
207:191,03[C  ]| regards me?"
207:191,04[A  ]| "It would be impossible to go to-morrow.  We owe
207:191,05[A  ]| Mrs%*Jennings much more than civility; and civility of
207:191,06[A  ]| the commonest kind must prevent such a hasty removal
207:191,07[A  ]| as that."
207:191,08[C  ]| "Well, then, another day or two, perhaps; but
207:191,09[C  ]| I cannot stay here long, I cannot stay to endure the
207:191,10[C  ]| questions and remarks of all these people.  The Middletons
207:191,11[C  ]| and Palmers ~~ how am I to bear their pity?  The
207:191,12[C  ]| pity of such a woman as Lady*Middleton!  Oh!  what
207:191,13[C  ]| would \he\ say to that!"
207:191,14['  ]| Elinor advised her to lie down again, and for a moment
207:191,15['  ]| she did so; but no attitude could give her ease; and
207:191,16['  ]| in restless pain of mind and body she moved from one
207:191,17['  ]| posture to another, till growing more and more hysterical,
207:191,18['  ]| her sister could with difficulty keep her on the bed at
207:191,19['  ]| all, and for some time was fearful of being constrained
207:191,20['  ]| to call for assistance.  Some lavender drops, however,
207:191,21['  ]| which she was at length persuaded to take, were of use;
207:191,22['  ]| and from that time till Mrs%*Jennings returned, she
207:191,23['  ]| continued on the bed quiet and motionless.
208:192,01['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings came immediately to their room on
208:192,02['  ]| her return, and without waiting to have her request of
208:192,03['  ]| admittance answered, opened the door and walked in
208:192,04['  ]| with a look of real concern.
208:192,05[K  ]| "How do you do my dear?" ~~
208:192,05['  ]| said she in a voice of
208:192,06['  ]| great compassion to Marianne, who turned away her
208:192,07['  ]| face without attempting to answer.
208:192,08[K  ]| "How is she, Miss*Dashwood? ~~ Poor thing!  she
208:192,09[K  ]| looks very bad.  ~~ No wonder.  Aye, it is but too true.
208:192,10[K  ]| He is to be married very soon ~~ a good-for-nothing
208:192,11[K  ]| fellow!  I have no patience with him.  Mrs%*Taylor
208:192,12[K  ]| told me of it half an hour ago, and she was told it by
208:192,13[K  ]| a particular friend of Miss*Grey herself, else I am sure
208:192,14[K  ]| I should not have believed it; and I was almost ready
208:192,15[K  ]| to sink as it was.  Well, said I, all I can say is, that
208:192,16[K  ]| if it is true, he has used a young lady of my acquaintance
208:192,17[K  ]| abominably ill, and I wish with all my soul his wife
208:192,18[K  ]| may plague his heart out.  And so I shall always say,
208:192,19[K  ]| my dear, you may depend on it.  I have no notion of
208:192,20[K  ]| men's going on in this way:  and if ever I meet him
208:192,21[K  ]| again, I will give him such a dressing as he has not had
208:192,22[K  ]| this many a day.  But there is one comfort, my dear
208:192,23[K  ]| Miss*Marianne; he is not the only young man in the
208:192,24[K  ]| world worth having; and with your pretty face you
208:192,25[K  ]| will never want admirers.  Well, poor thing!  I won't
208:192,26[K  ]| disturb her any longer, for she had better have her cry
208:192,27[K  ]| out at once and have done with it.  The Parrys and
208:192,28[K  ]| Sandersons luckily are coming to-night you know, and
208:192,29[K  ]| that will amuse her."
208:192,30['  ]| She then went away, walking on tiptoe out of the
208:192,31['  ]| room, as if she supposed her young friend's affliction
208:192,32['  ]| could be increased by noise.
208:192,33['  ]| Marianne, to the surprise of her sister, determined on
208:192,34['  ]| dining with them.  Elinor even advised her against it.
208:193,01['  ]| But
208:193,01[C  ]| "no, she would go down; she could bear it very
208:193,02[C  ]| well, and the bustle about her would be less."
208:193,02['  ]| Elinor,
208:193,03['  ]| pleased to have her governed for a moment by such
208:193,04['  ]| a motive, though believing it hardly possible that she
208:193,05['  ]| could sit out the dinner, said no more; and adjusting
208:193,06['  ]| her dress for her as well as she could, while Marianne
208:193,07['  ]| still remained on the bed, was ready to assist her into
208:193,08['  ]| the dining*room as soon as they were summoned to it.
208:193,09['  ]| When there, though looking most wretchedly, she ate
208:193,10['  ]| more and was calmer than her sister had expected.
208:193,11['  ]| Had she tried to speak, or had she been conscious of
208:193,12['  ]| half Mrs%*Jennings's well-meant but ill-judged attentions
208:193,13['  ]| to her, this calmness could not have been maintained;
208:193,14['  ]| but not a syllable escaped her lips, and the abstraction
208:193,15['  ]| of her thoughts preserved her in ignorance of every*thing
208:193,16['  ]| that was passing before her.
208:193,17['  ]| Elinor, who did justice to Mrs%*Jennings's kindness,
208:193,18['  ]| though its effusions were often distressing, and sometimes
208:193,19['  ]| almost ridiculous, made her those acknowledgments,
208:193,20['  ]| and returned her those civilities, which her sister
208:193,21['  ]| could not make or return for herself.  Their good friend
208:193,22['  ]| saw that Marianne was unhappy, and felt that every*thing
208:193,23['  ]| was due to her which might make her at all less
208:193,24['  ]| so.  She treated her therefore, with all the indulgent
208:193,25['  ]| fondness of a parent towards a favourite child on the
208:193,26['  ]| last day of its holidays.  Marianne was to have the best
208:193,27['  ]| place by the fire, was to be tempted to eat by every
208:193,28['  ]| delicacy in the house, and to be amused by the relation
208:193,29['  ]| of all the news of the day.  Had not Elinor, in the sad
208:193,30['  ]| countenance of her sister, seen a check to all mirth,
208:193,31['  ]| she could have been entertained by Mrs%*Jennings's
208:193,32['  ]| endeavours to cure a disappointment in love, by a variety
208:193,33['  ]| of sweetmeats and olives, and a good fire.  As soon,
208:193,34['  ]| however, as the consciousness of all this was forced by
208:193,35['  ]| continual repetition on Marianne, she could stay no
208:193,36['  ]| longer.  With an hasty exclamation of
208:193,36[C  ]| Misery,
208:193,36['  ]| and
208:193,37['  ]| a sign to her sister not to follow her, she directly got
208:193,38['  ]| up and hurried out of the room.
208:194,01[K  ]| "Poor soul!"
208:194,01['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings, as soon as she
208:194,02['  ]| was gone,
208:194,02[K  ]| "how it grieves me to see her!  And I declare
208:194,03[K  ]| if she is not gone away without finishing her wine!
208:194,04[K  ]| And the dried cherries too!  Lord!  nothing seems to
208:194,05[K  ]| do her any good.  I am sure if I knew any*thing she
208:194,06[K  ]| would like, I would send all over the town for it.  Well,
208:194,07[K  ]| it is the oddest thing to me, that a man should use such
208:194,08[K  ]| a pretty girl so ill!  But when there is plenty of money
208:194,09[K  ]| on one side, and next to none on the other, Lord bless
208:194,10[K  ]| you! they care no more about such things! ~~"
208:194,11[A  ]| "The lady then ~~ Miss*Grey I think you called her ~~
208:194,12[A  ]| is very rich?"
208:194,13[K  ]| "Fifty thousand pounds, my dear.  Did you ever see
208:194,14[K  ]| her? a smart, stilish girl they say, but not handsome.
208:194,15[K  ]| I remember her aunt very well, Biddy*Henshawe; she
208:194,16[K  ]| married a very wealthy man.  But the family are all
208:194,17[K  ]| rich together.  Fifty thousand pounds!  and by all
208:194,18[K  ]| accounts it wo'nt come before it's wanted; for they
208:194,19[K  ]| say he is all to pieces.  No wonder! dashing about with
208:194,20[K  ]| his curricle and hunters!  Well, it don't signify talking,
208:194,21[K  ]| but when a young man, be he who he will, comes and
208:194,22[K  ]| makes love to a pretty girl, and promises marriage, he
208:194,23[K  ]| has no business to fly off from his word only because
208:194,24[K  ]| he grows poor, and a richer girl is ready to have him.
208:194,25[K  ]| Why don't he, in such a case, sell his horses, let his
208:194,26[K  ]| house, turn off his servants, and make a thorough reform
208:194,27[K  ]| at once?  I warrant you, Miss*Marianne would have
208:194,28[K  ]| been ready to wait till matters came round.  But that
208:194,29[K  ]| won't do, now-a-days; nothing in the way of pleasure
208:194,30[K  ]| can ever be given up by the young men of this age."
208:194,31[A  ]| "Do you know what kind of a girl Miss*Grey is?
208:194,32[A  ]| Is she said to be amiable?"
208:194,33[K  ]| "I never heard any harm of her; indeed I hardly
208:194,34[K  ]| ever heard her mentioned; except that Mrs%*Taylor did
208:194,35[K  ]| say this morning, that one day Miss*Walker hinted to
208:194,36[K  ]| her, that she believed Mr% and Mrs%*Ellison would not
208:194,37[K  ]| be sorry to have Miss*Grey married, for she and Mrs%*Ellison
208:194,38[K  ]| could never agree." ~~
208:195,01[A  ]| "And who are the Ellisons?"
208:195,02[K  ]| "Her guardians, my dear.  But now she is of age
208:195,03[K  ]| and may choose for herself; and a pretty choice she has
208:195,04[K  ]| made!  What now,"
208:195,04['  ]| after pausing a moment ~~
208:195,04[K  ]| "your
208:195,05[K  ]| poor sister is gone to her own room I suppose to moan
208:195,06[K  ]| by herself.  Is there nothing one can get to comfort her?
208:195,07[K  ]| Poor dear, it seems quite cruel to let her be alone.  Well,
208:195,08[K  ]| by-and-by we shall have a few friends, and that will amuse
208:195,09[K  ]| her a little.  What shall we play at?  She hates whist
208:195,10[K  ]| I know; but is there no round game she cares for?"
208:195,11[A  ]| "Dear Ma'am, this kindness is quite unnecessary.
208:195,12[A  ]| Marianne I dare say will not leave her room again this
208:195,13[A  ]| evening.  I shall persuade her if I can to go early to
208:195,14[A  ]| bed, for I am sure she wants rest."
208:195,15[K  ]| "Aye, I believe that will be best for her.  Let her
208:195,16[K  ]| name her own supper, and go to bed.  Lord! no wonder
208:195,17[K  ]| she has been looking so bad and so cast down this last
208:195,18[K  ]| week or two, for this matter I suppose has been hanging
208:195,19[K  ]| over her head as long as that.  And so the letter that
208:195,20[K  ]| came to-day finished it!  Poor soul!  I am sure if I had
208:195,21[K  ]| had a notion of it, I would not have joked her about
208:195,22[K  ]| it for all my money.  But then you know, how should
208:195,23[K  ]| I guess such a thing?  I made sure of its being nothing
208:195,24[K  ]| but a common love letter, and you know young people
208:195,25[K  ]| like to be laughed at about them.  Lord!  how concerned
208:195,26[K  ]| Sir*John and my daughters will be when they
208:195,27[K  ]| hear it!  If I had had my senses about me I might
208:195,28[K  ]| have called in Conduit-street in my way home, and told
208:195,29[K  ]| them of it.  But I shall see them to-morrow."
208:195,30[A  ]| "It would be unnecessary I am sure, for you to
208:195,31[A  ]| caution Mrs%*Palmer and Sir*John against ever naming
208:195,32[A  ]| Mr%*Willoughby, or making the slightest allusion to what
208:195,33[A  ]| has passed, before my sister.  Their own good-nature
208:195,34[A  ]| must point out to them the real cruelty of appearing
208:195,35[A  ]| to know any*thing about it when she is present; and
208:195,36[A  ]| the less that may ever be said to myself on the subject,
208:195,37[A  ]| the more my feelings will be spared, as you my dear
208:195,38[A  ]| madam will easily believe."
208:196,01[K  ]| "Oh!  Lord!  yes, that I do indeed.  It must be
208:196,02[K  ]| terrible for you to hear it talked of; and as for your
208:196,03[K  ]| sister, I am sure I would not mention a word about it
208:196,04[K  ]| to her for the world.  You saw I did not all dinner time.
208:196,05[K  ]| No more would Sir*John nor my daughters, for they are
208:196,06[K  ]| all very thoughtful and considerate; especially if I give
208:196,07[K  ]| them a hint, as I certainly will.  For my part, I think
208:196,08[K  ]| the less that is said about such things, the better, the
208:196,09[K  ]| sooner 'tis blown over and forgot.  And what good does
208:196,10[K  ]| talking ever do you know?"
208:196,11[A  ]| "In this affair it can only do harm; more so perhaps
208:196,12[A  ]| than in many cases of a similar kind, for it has been
208:196,13[A  ]| attended by circumstances which, for the sake of every*one
208:196,14[A  ]| concerned in it, make it unfit to become the public
208:196,15[A  ]| conversation.  I must do \this\ justice to Mr%*Willoughby
208:196,16[A  ]| ~~ he has broken no positive engagement with my sister."
208:196,17[K  ]| "Law, my dear!  Don't pretend to defend him.  No
208:196,18[K  ]| positive engagement indeed!  after taking her all over
208:196,19[K  ]| Allenham*House, and fixing on the very rooms they
208:196,20[K  ]| were to live in hereafter!"
208:196,21['  ]| Elinor, for her sister's sake, could not press the subject
208:196,22['  ]| farther, and she hoped it was not required of her for
208:196,23['  ]| Willoughby's; since, though Marianne might lose much,
208:196,24['  ]| he could gain very little by the inforcement of the real
208:196,25['  ]| truth.  After a short silence on both sides, Mrs%*Jennings,
208:196,26['  ]| with all her natural hilarity, burst forth again.
208:196,27[K  ]| "Well, my dear, 'tis a true saying about an ill wind,
208:196,28[K  ]| for it will be all the better for Colonel*Brandon.  He
208:196,29[K  ]| will have her at last; aye, that he will.  Mind me, now,
208:196,30[K  ]| if they an't married by Midsummer.  Lord!  how he'll
208:196,31[K  ]| chuckle over this news!  I hope he will come to-night.
208:196,32[K  ]| It will be all to one a better match for your sister.  Two
208:196,33[K  ]| thousand a year without debt or drawback ~~ except the
208:196,34[K  ]| little love-child, indeed; aye, I had forgot her; but
208:196,35[K  ]| she may be 'prenticed out at small cost, and then what
208:196,36[K  ]| does it signify?  Delaford is a nice place, I can tell you;
208:196,37[K  ]| exactly what I call a nice old*fashioned place, full of
208:196,38[K  ]| comforts and conveniences; quite shut in with great
208:197,01[K  ]| garden walls that are covered with the best fruit-trees
208:197,02[K  ]| in the country:  and such a mulberry tree in one corner!
208:197,03[K  ]| Lord!  how Charlotte and I did stuff the only time we
208:197,04[K  ]| were there!  Then, there is a dove-cote, some delightful
208:197,05[K  ]| stewponds, and a very pretty canal; and every*thing,
208:197,06[K  ]| in short, that one could wish for:  and, moreover, it is
208:197,07[K  ]| close to the church, and only a quarter of a mile from
208:197,08[K  ]| the turnpike-road, so 'tis never dull, for if you only go
208:197,09[K  ]| and sit up in an old yew arbour behind the house, you
208:197,10[K  ]| may see all the carriages that pass along.  Oh!  'tis
208:197,11[K  ]| a nice place!  A butcher hard by in the village, and
208:197,12[K  ]| the parsonage-house within a stone's throw.  To my
208:197,13[K  ]| fancy, a thousand times prettier than Barton*Park,
208:197,14[K  ]| where they are forced to send three miles for their meat,
208:197,15[K  ]| and have not a neighbour nearer than your mother.
208:197,16[K  ]| Well, I shall spirit up the Colonel as soon as I can.
208:197,17[K  ]| One shoulder of mutton, you know, drives another down.
208:197,18[K  ]| If we \can\ but put Willoughby out of her head!"
208:197,19[A  ]| "Aye, if we can but do \that\, Ma'am,"
208:197,19['  ]| said Elinor,
208:197,20[A  ]| "we shall do very well with or without Colonel*Brandon."
208:197,21['  ]| And then rising, she went away to join Marianne, whom
208:197,22['  ]| she found, as she expected, in her own room, leaning,
208:197,23['  ]| in silent misery, over the small remains of a fire, which,
208:197,24['  ]| till Elinor's entrance, had been her only light.
208:197,25[C  ]| "You had better leave me,"
208:197,25['  ]| was all the notice that
208:197,26['  ]| her sister received from her."
208:197,27[A  ]| "I will leave you,"
208:197,27['  ]| said Elinor,
208:197,27[A  ]| "if you will go to
208:197,28[A  ]| bed."
208:197,28['  ]| But this, from the momentary perverseness of
208:197,29['  ]| impatient suffering, she at first refused to do.  Her
208:197,30['  ]| sister's earnest, though gentle persuasion, however, soon
208:197,31['  ]| softened her to compliance, and Elinor saw her lay her
208:197,32['  ]| aching head on the pillow, and saw her, as she hoped,
208:197,33['  ]| in a way to get some quiet rest before she left her.
208:197,34['  ]| In the drawing-room, whither she then repaired, she
208:197,35['  ]| was soon joined by Mrs%*Jennings, with a wine-glass,
208:197,36['  ]| full of something, in her hand.
208:197,37[K  ]| "My dear,"
208:197,37['  ]| said she, entering,
208:197,37[K  ]| "I have just recollected
208:197,38[K  ]| that I have some of the finest old Constantia wine in
208:198,01[K  ]| the house, that ever was tasted, so I have brought
208:198,02[K  ]| a glass of it for your sister.  My poor husband! how
208:198,03[K  ]| fond he was of it!  Whenever he had a touch of his
208:198,04[K  ]| old cholicky gout, he said it did him more good than
208:198,05[K  ]| any*thing else in the world.  Do take it to your sister."
208:198,06[A  ]| "Dear Ma'am,"
208:198,06['  ]| replied Elinor, smiling at the difference
208:198,07['  ]| of the complaints for which it was recommended,
208:198,08[A  ]| "how good you are!  But I have just left Marianne in
208:198,09[A  ]| bed, and, I hope, almost asleep; and as I think nothing
208:198,10[A  ]| will be of so much service to her as rest, if you will
208:198,11[A  ]| give me leave, I will drink the wine myself."
208:198,12['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, though regretting that she had not
208:198,13['  ]| been five minutes earlier, was satisfied with the compromise;
208:198,14['  ]| and Elinor, as she swallowed the chief of it,
208:198,15['  ]| reflected that, though its good effects on a cholicky gout
208:198,16['  ]| were, at present, of little importance to her, its healing
208:198,17['  ]| powers on a disappointed heart might be as reasonably
208:198,18['  ]| tried on herself as on her sister.
208:198,19['  ]| Colonel*Brandon came in while the party were at
208:198,20['  ]| tea, and by his manner of looking round the room for
208:198,21['  ]| Marianne, Elinor immediately fancied that he neither
208:198,22['  ]| expected, nor wished to see her there, and, in short,
208:198,23['  ]| that he was already aware of what occasioned her
208:198,24['  ]| absence.  Mrs%*Jennings was not struck by the same
208:198,25['  ]| thought; for, soon after his entrance, she walked across
208:198,26['  ]| the room to the tea-table where Elinor presided, and
208:198,27['  ]| whispered ~~
208:198,27[K  ]| "The Colonel looks as grave as ever you
208:198,28[K  ]| see.  He knows nothing of it; do tell him, my dear."
208:198,29['  ]| He shortly afterwards drew a chair close to her's, and,
208:198,30['  ]| with a look which perfectly assured her of his good
208:198,31['  ]| information, inquired after her sister.
208:198,32[A  ]| "Marianne is not well,"
208:198,32['  ]| said she.
208:198,32[A  ]| "She has been
208:198,33[A  ]| indisposed all day, and we have persuaded her to go
208:198,34[A  ]| to bed."
208:198,35[H  ]| "Perhaps, then,"
208:198,35['  ]| he hesitatingly replied,
208:198,35[H  ]| "what I
208:198,36[H  ]| heard this morning may be ~~ there may be more truth
208:198,37[H  ]| in it than I could believe possible at first."
208:198,38[A  ]| "What did you hear?"
208:199,01[H  ]| "That a gentleman, whom I had reason to think ~~ in
208:199,02[H  ]| short, that a man, whom I \knew\ to be engaged ~~ but
208:199,03[H  ]| how shall I tell you?  If you know it already, as surely
208:199,04[H  ]| you must, I may be spared."
208:199,05[A  ]| "You mean,"
208:199,05['  ]| answered Elinor, with forced calmness,
208:199,06[A  ]| "Mr%*Willoughby's marriage with Miss*Grey.  Yes, we
208:199,07[A  ]| \do\ know it all.  This seems to have been a day of general
208:199,08[A  ]| elucidation, for this very morning first unfolded it to
208:199,09[A  ]| us.  Mr%*Willoughby is unfathomable!  Where did you
208:199,10[A  ]| hear it?"
208:199,11[H  ]| "In a stationer's shop in Pall*Mall, where I had
208:199,12[H  ]| business.  Two ladies were waiting for their carriage,
208:199,13[H  ]| and one of them was giving the other an account of the
208:199,14[H  ]| intended match, in a voice so little attempting concealment,
208:199,15[H  ]| that it was impossible for me not to hear all.
208:199,16[H  ]| The name of Willoughby, John*Willoughby, frequently
208:199,17[H  ]| repeated, first caught my attention, and what followed
208:199,18[H  ]| was a positive assertion that every*thing was now finally
208:199,19[H  ]| settled respecting his marriage with Miss*Grey ~~ it was
208:199,20[H  ]| no longer to be a secret ~~ it would take place even within
208:199,21[H  ]| a few weeks, with many particulars of preparations and
208:199,22[H  ]| other matters.  One thing, especially, I remember,
208:199,23[H  ]| because it served to identify the man still more: ~~ as
208:199,24[H  ]| soon as the ceremony was over, they were to go to
208:199,25[H  ]| Combe*Magna, his seat in Somersetshire.  My astonishment! ~~
208:199,26[H  ]| but it would be impossible to describe what
208:199,27[H  ]| I felt.  The communicative lady I learnt, on inquiry,
208:199,28[H  ]| for I staid in the shop till they were gone, was a Mrs%*Ellison,
208:199,29[H  ]| and that, as I have been since informed, is the
208:199,30[H  ]| name of Miss*Grey's guardian."
208:199,31[A  ]| "It is.  But have you likewise heard that Miss*Grey
208:199,32[A  ]| has fifty thousand pounds?  In that, if in any*thing,
208:199,33[A  ]| we may find an explanation."
208:199,34[H  ]| "It may be so; but Willoughby is capable ~~ at least
208:199,35[H  ]| I think" ~~
208:199,35['  ]| he stopped a moment; then added in a voice
208:199,36['  ]| which seemed to distrust itself,
208:199,36[H  ]| "And your sister ~~ how
208:199,37[H  ]| did she ~~"
208:199,38[A  ]| "Her sufferings have been very severe.  I have only
208:200,01[A  ]| to hope that they may be proportionably short.  It has
208:200,02[A  ]| been, it is a most cruel affliction.  Till yesterday, I
208:200,03[A  ]| believe, she never doubted his regard; and even now,
208:200,04[A  ]| perhaps ~~ But \I\ am almost convinced that he never was
208:200,05[A  ]| really attached to her.  He has been very deceitful!
208:200,06[A  ]| and, in some points, there seems a hardness of heart
208:200,07[A  ]| about him."
208:200,08[H  ]| "Ah!"
208:200,08['  ]| said Colonel*Brandon,
208:200,08[H  ]| "there is, indeed!
208:200,09[H  ]| But your sister does not ~~ I think you said so ~~ she does
208:200,10[H  ]| not consider it quite as you do?"
208:200,11[A  ]| "You know her disposition, and may believe how
208:200,12[A  ]| eagerly she would still justify him if she could."
208:200,13['  ]| He made no answer; and soon afterwards, by the
208:200,14['  ]| removal of the tea-things, and the arrangement of the
208:200,15['  ]| card*parties, the subject was necessarily dropped.
208:200,16['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, who had watched them with pleasure
208:200,17['  ]| while they were talking, and who expected to see the
208:200,18['  ]| effect of Miss*Dashwood's communication, in such an
208:200,19['  ]| instantaneous gaiety on Colonel*Brandon's side, as might
208:200,20['  ]| have become a man in the bloom of youth, of hope and
208:200,21['  ]| happiness, saw him, with amazement, remain the whole
208:200,22['  ]| evening more serious and thoughtful than usual.
209:201,01['  ]| From a night of more sleep than she had expected,
209:201,02['  ]| Marianne awoke the next morning to the same consciousness
209:201,03['  ]| of misery in which she had closed her eyes.
209:201,04['  ]| Elinor encouraged her as much as possible to talk
209:201,05['  ]| of what she felt; and before breakfast was ready, they
209:201,06['  ]| had gone through the subject again and again; with
209:201,07['  ]| the same steady conviction and affectionate counsel on
209:201,08['  ]| Elinor's side, the same impetuous feelings and varying
209:201,09['  ]| opinions on Marianne's, as before.  Sometimes she could
209:201,10['  ]| believe Willoughby to be as unfortunate and as innocent
209:201,11['  ]| as herself, and at others, lost every consolation in the
209:201,12['  ]| impossibility of acquitting him.  At one moment she
209:201,13['  ]| was absolutely indifferent to the observation of all the
209:201,14['  ]| world, at another she would seclude herself from it for*ever,
209:201,15['  ]| and at a third could resist it with energy.  In one
209:201,16['  ]| thing, however, she was uniform, when it came to the
209:201,17['  ]| point, in avoiding, where it was possible, the presence
209:201,18['  ]| of Mrs%*Jennings, and in a determined silence when
209:201,19['  ]| obliged to endure it.  Her heart was hardened against
209:201,20['  ]| the belief of Mrs%*Jennings's entering into her sorrows
209:201,21['  ]| with any compassion.
209:201,22[C  ]| "No, no, no, it cannot be,"
209:201,22['  ]| she cried;
209:201,22[C  ]| "she cannot
209:201,23[C  ]| feel.  Her kindness is not sympathy; her good*nature
209:201,24[C  ]| is not tenderness.  All that she wants is gossip, and she
209:201,25[C  ]| only likes me now because I supply it."
209:201,26['  ]| Elinor had not needed this to be assured of the
209:201,27['  ]| injustice to which her sister was often led in her opinion
209:201,28['  ]| of others, by the irritable refinement of her own mind,
209:201,29['  ]| and the too great importance placed by her on the
209:201,30['  ]| delicacies of a strong sensibility, and the graces of
209:201,31['  ]| a polished manner.  Like half the rest of the world, if
209:201,32['  ]| more than half there be that are clever and good,
209:201,33['  ]| Marianne, with excellent abilities and an excellent
209:202,01['  ]| disposition, was neither reasonable nor candid.  She
209:202,02['  ]| expected from other people the same opinions and
209:202,03['  ]| feelings as her own, and she judged of their motives by
209:202,04['  ]| the immediate effect of their actions on herself.  Thus
209:202,05['  ]| a circumstance occurred, while the sisters were together
209:202,06['  ]| in their own room after breakfast, which sunk the heart
209:202,07['  ]| of Mrs%*Jennings still lower in her estimation; because,
209:202,08['  ]| through her own weakness, it chanced to prove a source
209:202,09['  ]| of fresh pain to herself, though Mrs%*Jennings was
209:202,10['  ]| governed in it by an impulse of the utmost good-will.
209:202,11['  ]| With a letter in her out-stretched hand, and countenance
209:202,12['  ]| gaily smiling, from the persuasion of bringing
209:202,13['  ]| comfort, she entered their room, saying,
209:202,14[K  ]| "Now, my dear, I bring you something that I am
209:202,15[K  ]| sure will do you good."
209:202,16['  ]| Marianne heard enough.  In one moment her imagination
209:202,17['  ]| placed before her a letter from Willoughby, full of
209:202,18['  ]| tenderness and contrition, explanatory of all that had
209:202,19['  ]| passed, satisfactory, convincing; and instantly followed
209:202,20['  ]| by Willoughby himself, rushing eagerly into the room
209:202,21['  ]| to inforce, at her feet, by the eloquence of his eyes, the
209:202,22['  ]| assurances of his letter.  The work of one moment was
209:202,23['  ]| destroyed by the next.  The hand*writing of her mother,
209:202,24['  ]| never till then unwelcome, was before her; and, in the
209:202,25['  ]| acuteness of the disappointment which followed such an
209:202,26['  ]| extasy of more than hope, she felt as if, till that instant,
209:202,27['  ]| she had never suffered.
209:202,28['  ]| The cruelty of Mrs%*Jennings no language, within her
209:202,29['  ]| reach in her moments of happiest eloquence, could have
209:202,30['  ]| expressed; and now she could reproach her only by the
209:202,31['  ]| tears which streamed from her eyes with passionate
209:202,32['  ]| violence ~~ a reproach, however, so entirely lost on its
209:202,33['  ]| object, that after many expressions of pity, she withdrew,
209:202,34['  ]| still referring her to the letter for comfort.  But
209:202,35['  ]| the letter, when she was calm enough to read it, brought
209:202,36['  ]| little comfort.  Willoughby filled every page.  Her
209:202,37['  ]| mother, still confident of their engagement, and relying
209:202,38['  ]| as warmly as ever on his constancy, had only been
209:203,01['  ]| roused by Elinor's application, to intreat from Marianne
209:203,02['  ]| greater openness towards them both; and this, with
209:203,03['  ]| such tenderness towards her, such affection for Willoughby,
209:203,04['  ]| and such a conviction of their future happiness
209:203,05['  ]| in each other, that she wept with agony through the
209:203,06['  ]| whole of it.
209:203,07['  ]| All her impatience to be at home again now returned;
209:203,08['  ]| her mother was dearer to her than ever; dearer through
209:203,09['  ]| the very excess of her mistaken confidence in Willoughby,
209:203,10['  ]| and she was wildly urgent to be gone.  Elinor, unable
209:203,11['  ]| herself to determine whether it were better for Marianne
209:203,12['  ]| to be in London or at Barton, offered no counsel of her
209:203,13['  ]| own except of patience till their mother's wishes could
209:203,14['  ]| be known; and at length she obtained her sister's consent
209:203,15['  ]| to wait for that knowledge.
209:203,16['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings left them earlier than usual; for she
209:203,17['  ]| could not be easy till the Middletons and Palmers were
209:203,18['  ]| able to grieve as much as herself; and positively refusing
209:203,19['  ]| Elinor's offered attendance, went out alone for the rest
209:203,20['  ]| of the morning.  Elinor, with a very heavy heart, aware
209:203,21['  ]| of the pain she was going to communicate, and perceiving
209:203,22['  ]| by Marianne's letter how ill she had succeeded
209:203,23['  ]| in laying any foundation for it, then sat down to write
209:203,24['  ]| her mother an account of what had passed, and intreat
209:203,25['  ]| her directions for the future; while Marianne, who came
209:203,26['  ]| into the drawing-room on Mrs%*Jennings's going away,
209:203,27['  ]| remained fixed at the table where Elinor wrote, watching
209:203,28['  ]| the advancement of her pen, grieving over her for the
209:203,29['  ]| hardship of such a task, and grieving still more fondly
209:203,30['  ]| over its effect on her mother.
209:203,31['  ]| In this manner they had continued about a quarter
209:203,32['  ]| of an hour, when Marianne, whose nerves could not then
209:203,33['  ]| bear any sudden noise, was startled by a rap at the door.
209:203,34[A  ]| "Who can this be?"
209:203,34['  ]| cried Elinor.
209:203,34[A  ]| "So early too!
209:203,35[A  ]| I thought we \had\ been safe."
209:203,36['  ]| Marianne moved to the window ~~
209:203,37[C  ]| "It is Colonel*Brandon!"
209:203,37['  ]| said she, with vexation.
209:203,38[C  ]| "We are never safe from \him\."
209:204,01[A  ]| "He will not come in, as Mrs%*Jennings is from home."
209:204,02[C  ]| "I will not trust to \that\,"
209:204,02['  ]| retreating to her own room.
209:204,03[C  ]| "A man who has nothing to do with his own time has
209:204,04[C  ]| no conscience in his intrusion on that of others."
209:204,05['  ]| The event proved her conjecture right, though it was
209:204,06['  ]| founded on injustice and error; for Colonel*Brandon
209:204,07['  ]| \did\ come in; and Elinor, who was convinced that
209:204,08['  ]| solicitude for Marianne brought him thither, and who
209:204,09['  ]| saw \that\ solicitude in his disturbed and melancholy look,
209:204,10['  ]| and in his anxious though brief inquiry after her, could
209:204,11['  ]| not forgive her sister for esteeming him so lightly.
209:204,12[H  ]| "I met Mrs%*Jennings in Bond-street,"
209:204,12['  ]| said he, after
209:204,13['  ]| the first salutation,
209:204,13[H  ]| "and she encouraged me to come
209:204,14[H  ]| on; and I was the more easily encouraged, because
209:204,15[H  ]| I thought it probable that I might find you alone, which
209:204,16[H  ]| I was very desirous of doing.  My object ~~ my wish ~~
209:204,17[H  ]| my sole wish in desiring it ~~ I hope, I believe it is ~~ is
209:204,18[H  ]| to be a means of giving comfort; ~~ no, I must not say
209:204,19[H  ]| comfort ~~ not present comfort ~~ but conviction, lasting
209:204,20[H  ]| conviction to your sister's mind.  My regard for her, for
209:204,21[H  ]| yourself, for your mother ~~ will you allow me to prove
209:204,22[H  ]| it, by relating some circumstances, which nothing but
209:204,23[H  ]| a \very\ sincere regard ~~ nothing but an earnest desire of
209:204,24[H  ]| being useful ~~ I think I am justified ~~ though where
209:204,25[H  ]| so many hours have been spent in convincing myself
209:204,26[H  ]| that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may
209:204,27[H  ]| be wrong?"
209:204,27['  ]| He stopped.
209:204,28[A  ]| "I understand you,"
209:204,28['  ]| said Elinor.
209:204,28[A  ]| "You have something
209:204,29[A  ]| to tell me of Mr%*Willoughby, that will open his
209:204,30[A  ]| character farther.  Your telling it will be the greatest
209:204,31[A  ]| act of friendship that can be shewn Marianne.  \My\
209:204,32[A  ]| gratitude will be insured immediately by any information
209:204,33[A  ]| tending to that end, and \her's\ must be gained by
209:204,34[A  ]| it in time.  Pray, pray let me hear it."
209:204,35[H  ]| "You shall; and, to be brief, when I quitted Barton
209:204,36[H  ]| last October, ~~ but this will give you no idea ~~ I must
209:204,37[H  ]| go farther back.  You will find me a very awkward
209:204,38[H  ]| narrator, Miss*Dashwood; I hardly know where to
209:205,01[H  ]| begin.  A short account of myself, I believe, will be
209:205,02[H  ]| necessary, and it \shall\ be a short one.  On such a subject,"
209:205,03['  ]| sighing heavily,
209:205,03[H  ]| "I can have little temptation to
209:205,04[H  ]| be diffuse."
209:205,05['  ]| He stopt a moment for recollection, and then, with
209:205,06['  ]| another sigh, went on.
209:205,07[H  ]| "You have probably entirely forgotten a conversation ~~
209:205,08[H  ]| (it is not to be supposed that it could make any
209:205,09[H  ]| impression on you) ~~ a conversation between us one
209:205,10[H  ]| evening at Barton*Park ~~ it was the evening of a dance ~~
209:205,11[H  ]| in which I alluded to a lady I had once known, as
209:205,12[H  ]| resembling, in some measure, your sister Marianne."
209:205,13[A  ]| "Indeed,"
209:205,13['  ]| answered Elinor,
209:205,13[A  ]| "I have \not\ forgotten
209:205,14[A  ]| it."
209:205,14['  ]| He looked pleased by this remembrance, and added,
209:205,15[H  ]| "If I am not deceived by the uncertainty, the partiality
209:205,16[H  ]| of tender recollection, there is a very strong
209:205,17[H  ]| resemblance between them, as well in mind as person.
209:205,18[H  ]| The same warmth of heart, the same eagerness of fancy
209:205,19[H  ]| and spirits.  This lady was one of my nearest relations,
209:205,20[H  ]| an orphan from her infancy, and under the guardianship
209:205,21[H  ]| of my father.  Our ages were nearly the same, and from
209:205,22[H  ]| our earliest years we were playfellows and friends.
209:205,23[H  ]| I cannot remember the time when I did not love Eliza;
209:205,24[H  ]| and my affection for her, as we grew up, was such, as
209:205,25[H  ]| perhaps, judging from my present forlorn and cheerless
209:205,26[H  ]| gravity, you might think me incapable of having ever
209:205,27[H  ]| felt.  Her's, for me, was, I believe, fervent as the attachment
209:205,28[H  ]| of your sister to Mr%*Willoughby, and it was,
209:205,29[H  ]| though from a different cause, no less unfortunate.  At
209:205,30[H  ]| seventeen, she was lost to me for*ever.  She was married
209:205,31[H  ]| ~~ married against her inclination to my brother.  Her
209:205,32[H  ]| fortune was large, and our family estate much encumbered.
209:205,33[H  ]| And this, I fear, is all that can be said for the
209:205,34[H  ]| conduct of one, who was at once her uncle and guardian.
209:205,35[H  ]| My brother did not deserve her; he did not even love
209:205,36[H  ]| her.  I had hoped that her regard for me would support
209:205,37[H  ]| her under any difficulty, and for some time it did; but
209:205,38[H  ]| at last the misery of her situation, for she experienced
209:206,01[H  ]| great unkindness, overcame all her resolution, and
209:206,02[H  ]| though she had promised me that nothing ~~ but how
209:206,03[H  ]| blindly I relate!  I have never told you how this was
209:206,04[H  ]| brought on.  We were within a few hours of eloping
209:206,05[H  ]| together for Scotland.  The treachery, or the folly, of
209:206,06[H  ]| my cousin's maid betrayed us.  I was banished to the
209:206,07[H  ]| house of a relation far distant, and she was allowed no
209:206,08[H  ]| liberty, no society, no amusement, till my father's point
209:206,09[H  ]| was gained.  I had depended on her fortitude too far,
209:206,10[H  ]| and the blow was a severe one ~~ but had her marriage
209:206,11[H  ]| been happy, so young as I then was, a few months must
209:206,12[H  ]| have reconciled me to it, or at least I should not have
209:206,13[H  ]| now to lament it.  This however was not the case.  My
209:206,14[H  ]| brother had no regard for her; his pleasures were not
209:206,15[H  ]| what they ought to have been, and from the first he
209:206,16[H  ]| treated her unkindly.  The consequence of this, upon
209:206,17[H  ]| a mind so young, so lively, so inexperienced as
Mrs%*Brandon's,
209:206,18[H  ]| was but too natural.  She resigned herself
209:206,19[H  ]| at first to all the misery of her situation; and happy
209:206,20[H  ]| had it been if she had not lived to overcome those
209:206,21[H  ]| regrets which the remembrance of me occasioned.  But
209:206,22[H  ]| can we wonder that with such a husband to provoke
209:206,23[H  ]| inconstancy, and without a friend to advise or restrain
209:206,24[H  ]| her, (for my father lived only a few months after their
209:206,25[H  ]| marriage, and I was with my regiment in the East*Indies)
209:206,26[H  ]| she should fall?  Had I remained in England,
209:206,27[H  ]| perhaps ~~ but I meant to promote the happiness of both
209:206,28[H  ]| by removing from her for years, and for that purpose
209:206,29[H  ]| had procured my exchange.  The shock which her
209:206,30[H  ]| marriage had given me,"
209:206,30['  ]| he continued, in a voice of
209:206,31['  ]| great agitation,
209:206,31[H  ]| "was of trifling weight ~~ was nothing ~~
209:206,32[H  ]| to what I felt when I heard, about two years afterwards,
209:206,33[H  ]| of her divorce.  It was \that\ which threw this gloom, ~~
209:206,34[H  ]| even now the recollection of what I suffered ~~"
209:206,35['  ]| He could say no more, and rising hastily walked for
209:206,36['  ]| a few minutes about the room.  Elinor, affected by his
209:206,37['  ]| relation, and still more by his distress, could not speak.
209:206,38['  ]| He saw her concern, and coming to her, took her hand,
209:207,01['  ]| pressed it, and kissed it with grateful respect.  A few
209:207,02['  ]| minutes more of silent exertion enabled him to proceed
209:207,03['  ]| with composure.
209:207,04[H  ]| "It was nearly three years after this unhappy period
209:207,05[H  ]| before I returned to England.  My first care, when I \did\
209:207,06[H  ]| arrive, was of course to seek for her; but the search
209:207,07[H  ]| was as fruitless as it was melancholy.  I could not trace
209:207,08[H  ]| her beyond her first seducer, and there was every reason
209:207,09[H  ]| to fear that she had removed from him only to sink
209:207,10[H  ]| deeper in a life of sin.  Her legal allowance was not
209:207,11[H  ]| adequate to her fortune, nor sufficient for her comfortable
209:207,12[H  ]| maintenance, and I learnt from my brother, that
209:207,13[H  ]| the power of receiving it had been made over some
209:207,14[H  ]| months before to another person.  He imagined, and
209:207,15[H  ]| calmly could he imagine it, that her extravagance and
209:207,16[H  ]| consequent distress had obliged her to dispose of it for
209:207,17[H  ]| some immediate relief.  At last, however, and after I had
209:207,18[H  ]| been six months in England, I \did\ find her.  Regard for
209:207,19[H  ]| a former servant of my own, who had since fallen into
209:207,20[H  ]| misfortune, carried me to visit him in a spunging-house,
209:207,21[H  ]| where he was confined for debt; and there, in the same
209:207,22[H  ]| house, under a similar confinement, was my unfortunate
209:207,23[H  ]| sister.  So altered ~~ so faded ~~ worn down by acute
209:207,24[H  ]| suffering of every kind!  hardly could I believe the
209:207,25[H  ]| melancholy and sickly figure before me, to be the remains
209:207,26[H  ]| of the lovely, blooming, healthful girl, on whom I had
209:207,27[H  ]| once doated.  What I endured in so beholding her ~~ but
209:207,28[H  ]| I have no right to wound your feelings by attempting
209:207,29[H  ]| to describe it ~~ I have pained you too much already.
209:207,30[H  ]| That she was, to all appearance, in the last stage of
209:207,31[H  ]| a consumption, was ~~ yes, in such a situation it was my
209:207,32[H  ]| greatest comfort.  Life could do nothing for her, beyond
209:207,33[H  ]| giving time for a better preparation for death; and that
209:207,34[H  ]| was given.  I saw her placed in comfortable lodgings,
209:207,35[H  ]| and under proper attendants; I visited her every day
209:207,36[H  ]| during the rest of her short life; I was with her in her
209:207,37[H  ]| last moments."
209:207,38['  ]| Again he stopped to recover himself; and Elinor
209:208,01['  ]| spoke her feelings in an exclamation of tender concern,
209:208,02['  ]| at the fate of his unfortunate friend.
209:208,03[H  ]| "Your sister, I hope, cannot be offended,"
209:208,03['  ]| said he,
209:208,04[H  ]| "by the resemblance I have fancied between her and
209:208,05[H  ]| my poor disgraced relation.  Their fates, their fortunes
209:208,06[H  ]| cannot be the same; and had the natural sweet disposition
209:208,07[H  ]| of the one been guarded by a firmer mind, or
209:208,08[H  ]| an happier marriage, she might have been all that you
209:208,09[H  ]| will live to see the other be.  But to what does all this
209:208,10[H  ]| lead?  I seem to have been distressing you for nothing.
209:208,11[H  ]| Ah!  Miss*Dashwood ~~ a subject such as this ~~ untouched
209:208,12[H  ]| for fourteen years ~~ it is dangerous to handle it at all!
209:208,13[H  ]| I \will\ be more collected ~~ more concise.  She left to my
209:208,14[H  ]| care her only child, a little girl, the offspring of her first
209:208,15[H  ]| guilty connection, who was then about three years old.
209:208,16[H  ]| She loved the child, and had always kept it with her.
209:208,17[H  ]| It was a valued, a precious trust to me; and gladly
209:208,18[H  ]| would I have discharged it in the strictest sense, by
209:208,19[H  ]| watching over her education myself, had the nature of
209:208,20[H  ]| our situations allowed it; but I had no family, no
209:208,21[H  ]| home; and my little Eliza was therefore placed at
209:208,22[H  ]| school.  I saw her there whenever I could, and after
209:208,23[H  ]| the death of my brother, (which happened about five
209:208,24[H  ]| years ago, and which left to me the possession of the
209:208,25[H  ]| family property,) she frequently visited me at Delaford.
209:208,26[H  ]| I called her a distant relation; but I am well aware
209:208,27[H  ]| that I have in general been suspected of a much nearer
209:208,28[H  ]| connection with her.  It is now three years ago, (she
209:208,29[H  ]| had just reached her fourteenth year,) that I removed
209:208,30[H  ]| her from school, to place her under the care of a very
209:208,31[H  ]| respectable woman, residing in Dorsetshire, who had the
209:208,32[H  ]| charge of four or five other girls of about the same time
209:208,33[H  ]| of life; and for two years I had every reason to be
209:208,34[H  ]| pleased with her situation.  But last February, almost
209:208,35[H  ]| a twelvemonth back, she suddenly disappeared.  I had
209:208,36[H  ]| allowed her, (imprudently, as it has since turned out,)
209:208,37[H  ]| at her earnest desire, to go to Bath with one of her
209:208,38[H  ]| young friends, who was attending her father there for
209:209,01[H  ]| his health.  I knew him to be a very good sort of man,
209:209,02[H  ]| and I thought well of his daughter ~~ better than she
209:209,03[H  ]| deserved, for, with a most obstinate and ill-judged
209:209,04[H  ]| secrecy, she would tell nothing, would give no clue,
209:209,05[H  ]| though she certainly knew all.  He, her father, a well-meaning,
209:209,06[H  ]| but not a quick-sighted man, could really,
209:209,07[H  ]| I believe, give no information; for he had been generally
209:209,08[H  ]| confined to the house, while the girls were ranging over
209:209,09[H  ]| the town and making what acquaintance they chose;
209:209,10[H  ]| and he tried to convince me, as thoroughly as he was
209:209,11[H  ]| convinced himself, of his daughter's being entirely unconcerned
209:209,12[H  ]| in the business.  In short, I could learn nothing
209:209,13[H  ]| but that she was gone; all the rest, for eight long
209:209,14[H  ]| months, was left to conjecture.  What I thought, what
209:209,15[H  ]| I feared, may be imagined; and what I suffered too."
209:209,16[A  ]| "Good heavens!"
209:209,16['  ]| cried Elinor,
209:209,16[A  ]| "could it be ~~ could
209:209,17[A  ]| Willoughby! ~~
209:209,18[H  ]| "The first news that reached me of her,"
209:209,18['  ]| he continued,
209:209,19[H  ]| "came in a letter from herself, last October.  It was
209:209,20[H  ]| forwarded to me from Delaford, and I received it on
209:209,21[H  ]| the very morning of our intended party to Whitwell;
209:209,22[H  ]| and this was the reason of my leaving Barton so suddenly,
209:209,23[H  ]| which I am sure must at the time have appeared
209:209,24[H  ]| strange to every*body, and which I believe gave offence
209:209,25[H  ]| to some.  Little did Mr%*Willoughby imagine, I suppose,
209:209,26[H  ]| when his looks censured me for incivility in breaking up
209:209,27[H  ]| the party, that I was called away to the relief of one,
209:209,28[H  ]| whom he had made poor and miserable; but \had\ he
209:209,29[H  ]| known it, what would it have availed?  Would he have
209:209,30[H  ]| been less gay or less happy in the smiles of your sister?
209:209,31[H  ]| No, he had already done that, which no man who \can\
209:209,32[H  ]| feel for another, would do.  He had left the girl whose
209:209,33[H  ]| youth and innocence he had seduced, in a situation of
209:209,34[H  ]| the utmost distress, with no creditable home, no help,
209:209,35[H  ]| no friends, ignorant of his address!  He had left her
209:209,36[H  ]| promising to return; he neither returned, nor wrote,
209:209,37[H  ]| nor relieved her."
209:209,38[A  ]| "This is beyond every*thing!"
209:209,38['  ]| exclaimed Elinor.
209:210,01[H  ]| "His character is now before you; expensive, dissipated,
209:210,02[H  ]| and worse than both.  Knowing all this, as
209:210,03[H  ]| I have now known it many weeks, guess what I must
209:210,04[H  ]| have felt on seeing your sister as fond of him as ever,
209:210,05[H  ]| and on being assured that she was to marry him; guess
209:210,06[H  ]| what I must have felt for all your sakes.  When I came
209:210,07[H  ]| to you last week and found you alone, I came determined
209:210,08[H  ]| to know the truth; though irresolute what to do when
209:210,09[H  ]| it \was\ known.  My behaviour must have seemed strange
209:210,10[H  ]| to you then; but now you will comprehend it.  To
209:210,11[H  ]| suffer you all to be so deceived; to see your sister ~~ but
209:210,12[H  ]| what could I do?  I had no hope of interfering with
209:210,13[H  ]| success; and sometimes I thought your sister's influence
209:210,14[H  ]| might yet reclaim him.  But now, after such dishonourable
209:210,15[H  ]| usage, who can tell what were his designs on her?
209:210,16[H  ]| Whatever they may have been, however, she may now,
209:210,17[H  ]| and hereafter doubtless \will\, turn with gratitude towards
209:210,18[H  ]| her own condition, when she compares it with that of
209:210,19[H  ]| my poor Eliza, when she considers the wretched and
209:210,20[H  ]| hopeless situation of this poor girl, and pictures her to
209:210,21[H  ]| herself, with an affection for him as strong, still as strong
209:210,22[H  ]| as her own, and with a mind tormented by self-reproach,
209:210,23[H  ]| which must attend her through life.  Surely this comparison
209:210,24[H  ]| must have its use with her.  She will feel her
209:210,25[H  ]| own sufferings to be nothing.  They proceed from no
209:210,26[H  ]| misconduct, and can bring no disgrace.  On the contrary,
209:210,27[H  ]| every friend must be made still more her friend by
209:210,28[H  ]| them.  Concern for her unhappiness, and respect for her
209:210,29[H  ]| fortitude under it, must strengthen every attachment.
209:210,30[H  ]| Use your own discretion, however, in communicating to
209:210,31[H  ]| her what I have told you.  You must know best what
209:210,32[H  ]| will be its effect; but had I not seriously, and from my
209:210,33[H  ]| heart believed it might be of service, might lessen her
209:210,34[H  ]| regrets, I would not have suffered myself to trouble you
209:210,35[H  ]| with this account of my family afflictions, with a recital
209:210,36[H  ]| which may seem to have been intended to raise myself
209:210,37[H  ]| at the expense of others."
209:210,38['  ]| Elinor's thanks followed this speech with grateful
209:211,01['  ]| earnestness; attended too with the assurance of her
209:211,02['  ]| expecting material advantage to Marianne, from the
209:211,03['  ]| communication of what had passed.
209:211,04[A  ]| "I have been more pained,"
209:211,04['  ]| said she,
209:211,04[A  ]| "by her
209:211,05[A  ]| endeavours to acquit him than by all the rest; for it
209:211,06[A  ]| irritates her mind more than the most perfect conviction
209:211,07[A  ]| of his unworthiness can do.  Now, though at first she
209:211,08[A  ]| will suffer much, I am sure she will soon become easier.
209:211,09[A  ]| Have you,"
209:211,09['  ]| she continued, after a short silence,
209:211,09[A  ]| "ever
209:211,10[A  ]| seen Mr%*Willoughby since you left him at Barton?"
209:211,11[H  ]| "Yes,"
209:211,11['  ]| he replied gravely,
209:211,11[H  ]| "once I have.  One
209:211,12[H  ]| meeting was unavoidable."
209:211,13['  ]| Elinor, startled by his manner, looked at him anxiously,
209:211,14['  ]| saying,
209:211,15[A  ]| "What?  have you met him to ~~"
209:211,16[H  ]| "I could meet him in no other way.  Eliza had
209:211,17[H  ]| confessed to me, though most reluctantly, the name of
209:211,18[H  ]| her lover; and when he returned to town, which was
209:211,19[H  ]| within a fortnight after myself, we met by appointment,
209:211,20[H  ]| he to defend, I to punish his conduct.  We returned
209:211,21[H  ]| unwounded, and the meeting, therefore, never got
209:211,22[H  ]| abroad."
209:211,23['  ]| Elinor sighed over the fancied necessity of this; but
209:211,24['  ]| to a man and a soldier, she presumed not to censure it.
209:211,25[H  ]| "Such,"
209:211,25['  ]| said Colonel*Brandon, after a pause,
209:211,25[H  ]| "has
209:211,26[H  ]| been the unhappy resemblance between the fate of
209:211,27[H  ]| mother and daughter! and so imperfectly have I discharged
209:211,28[H  ]| my trust!"
209:211,29[A  ]| "Is she still in town?"
209:211,30[H  ]| "No; as soon as she recovered from her lying-in,
209:211,31[H  ]| for I found her near her delivery, I removed her and her
209:211,32[H  ]| child into the country, and there she remains."
209:211,33['  ]| Recollecting, soon afterwards, that he was probably
209:211,34['  ]| dividing Elinor from her sister, he put an end to his
209:211,35['  ]| visit, receiving from her again the same grateful acknowledgments,
209:211,36['  ]| and leaving her full of compassion and esteem
209:211,37['  ]| for him.
210:212,01['  ]| When the particulars of this conversation were
210:212,02['  ]| repeated by Miss*Dashwood to her sister, as they very
210:212,03['  ]| soon were, the effect on her was not entirely such as the
210:212,04['  ]| former had hoped to see.  Not that Marianne appeared
210:212,05['  ]| to distrust the truth of any part of it, for she listened
210:212,06['  ]| to it all with the most steady and submissive attention,
210:212,07['  ]| made neither objection nor remark, attempted no vindication
210:212,08['  ]| of Willoughby, and seemed to shew by her tears
210:212,09['  ]| that she felt it to be impossible.  But though this
210:212,10['  ]| behaviour assured Elinor that the conviction of his guilt
210:212,11['  ]| \was\ carried home to her mind, though she saw with
210:212,12['  ]| satisfaction the effect of it, in her no longer avoiding
210:212,13['  ]| Colonel*Brandon when he called, in her speaking to him,
210:212,14['  ]| even voluntarily speaking, with a kind of compassionate
210:212,15['  ]| respect, and though she saw her spirits less violently
210:212,16['  ]| irritated than before, she did not see her less wretched.
210:212,17['  ]| Her mind did become settled, but it was settled in
210:212,18['  ]| a gloomy dejection.  She felt the loss of Willoughby's
210:212,19['  ]| character yet more heavily than she had felt the loss of
210:212,20['  ]| his heart; his seduction and desertion of Miss*Williams,
210:212,21['  ]| the misery of that poor girl, and the doubt of what his
210:212,22['  ]| designs might \once\ have been on herself, preyed altogether
210:212,23['  ]| so much on her spirits, that she could not bring
210:212,24['  ]| herself to speak of what she felt even to Elinor; and
210:212,25['  ]| brooding over her sorrows in silence, gave more pain to
210:212,26['  ]| her sister than could have been communicated by the
210:212,27['  ]| most open and most frequent confession of them.
210:212,28['  ]| To give the feelings or the language of Mrs%*Dashwood
210:212,29['  ]| on receiving and answering Elinor's letter, would be
210:212,30['  ]| only to give a repetition of what her daughters had
210:212,31['  ]| already felt and said; of a disappointment hardly less
210:212,32['  ]| painful than Marianne's, and an indignation even greater
210:212,33['  ]| than Elinor's.  Long letters from her, quickly succeeding
210:213,01['  ]| each other, arrived to tell all that she suffered and
210:213,02['  ]| thought; to express her anxious solicitude for Marianne,
210:213,03['  ]| and entreat she would bear up with fortitude under this
210:213,04['  ]| misfortune.  Bad indeed must the nature of Marianne's
210:213,05['  ]| affliction be, when her mother could talk of fortitude!
210:213,06['  ]| mortifying and humiliating must be the origin of those
210:213,07['  ]| regrets, which \she\ could wish her not to indulge!
210:213,08['  ]| Against the interest of her own individual comfort,
210:213,09['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood had determined that it would be better
210:213,10['  ]| for Marianne to be anywhere, at that time, than at
210:213,11['  ]| Barton, where every*thing within her view would be
210:213,12['  ]| bringing back the past in the strongest and most
210:213,13['  ]| afflicting manner, by constantly placing Willoughby
210:213,14['  ]| before her, such as she had always seen him there.  She
210:213,15['  ]| recommended it to her daughters, therefore, by all means
210:213,16['  ]| not to shorten their visit to Mrs%*Jennings; the length
210:213,17['  ]| of which, though never exactly fixed, had been expected
210:213,18['  ]| by all to comprise at least five or six weeks.  A variety
210:213,19['  ]| of occupations, of objects, and of company, which could
210:213,20['  ]| not be procured at Barton, would be inevitable there,
210:213,21['  ]| and might yet, she hoped, cheat Marianne, at times,
210:213,22['  ]| into some interest beyond herself, and even into some
210:213,23['  ]| amusement, much as the idea of both might now be
210:213,24['  ]| spurned by her.
210:213,25['  ]| From all danger of seeing Willoughby again, her
210:213,26['  ]| mother considered her to be at least equally safe in
210:213,27['  ]| town as in the country, since his acquaintance must
210:213,28['  ]| now be dropped by all who called themselves her friends.
210:213,29['  ]| Design could never bring them in each other's way:
210:213,30['  ]| negligence could never leave them exposed to a surprise;
210:213,31['  ]| and chance had less in its favour in the croud of London
210:213,32['  ]| than even in the retirement of Barton, where it might
210:213,33['  ]| force him before her while paying that visit at Allenham
210:213,34['  ]| on his marriage, which Mrs%*Dashwood, from foreseeing
210:213,35['  ]| at first as a probable event, had brought herself to
210:213,36['  ]| expect as a certain one.
210:213,37['  ]| She had yet another reason for wishing her children
210:213,38['  ]| to remain where they were; a letter from her son-in-law
210:214,01['  ]| had told her that he and his wife were to be in town
210:214,02['  ]| before the middle of February, and she judged it right
210:214,03['  ]| that they should sometimes see their brother.
210:214,04['  ]| Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother's
210:214,05['  ]| opinion, and she submitted to it therefore without
210:214,06['  ]| opposition, though it proved perfectly different from
210:214,07['  ]| what she wished and expected, though she felt it to be
210:214,08['  ]| entirely wrong, formed on mistaken grounds, and that
210:214,09['  ]| by requiring her longer continuance in London it
210:214,10['  ]| deprived her of the only possible alleviation of her
210:214,11['  ]| wretchedness, the personal sympathy of her mother, and
210:214,12['  ]| doomed her to such society and such scenes as must
210:214,13['  ]| prevent her ever knowing a moment's rest.
210:214,14['  ]| But it was a matter of great consolation to her, that
210:214,15['  ]| what brought evil to herself would bring good to her
210:214,16['  ]| sister; and Elinor, on the other hand, suspecting that
210:214,17['  ]| it would not be in her power to avoid Edward entirely,
210:214,18['  ]| comforted herself by thinking, that though their longer
210:214,19['  ]| stay would therefore militate against her own happiness,
210:214,20['  ]| it would be better for Marianne than an immediate
210:214,21['  ]| return into Devonshire.
210:214,22['  ]| Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever
210:214,23['  ]| hearing Willoughby's name mentioned, was not thrown
210:214,24['  ]| away.  Marianne, though without knowing it herself,
210:214,25['  ]| reaped all its advantage; for neither Mrs%*Jennings, nor
210:214,26['  ]| Sir*John, nor even Mrs%*Palmer herself, ever spoke of
210:214,27['  ]| him before her.  Elinor wished that the same forbearance
210:214,28['  ]| could have extended towards herself, but that was
210:214,29['  ]| impossible, and she was obliged to listen day after day
210:214,30['  ]| to the indignation of them all.
210:214,31['  ]| Sir*John could not have thought it possible.
210:214,31[L  ]| "A man
210:214,32[L  ]| of whom he had always had such reason to think well!
210:214,33[L  ]| Such a good-natured fellow!  He did not believe there
210:214,34[L  ]| was a bolder rider in England!  It was an unaccountable
210:214,35[L  ]| business.  He wished him at the devil with all his heart.
210:214,36[L  ]| He would not speak another word to him, meet him
210:214,37[L  ]| where he might, for all the world!  No, not if it were
210:214,38[L  ]| to be by the side of Barton*covert, and they were kept
210:215,01[L  ]| waiting for two hours together.  Such a scoundrel of
210:215,02[L  ]| a fellow! such a deceitful dog!  It was only the last
210:215,03[L  ]| time they met that he had offered him one of Folly's
210:215,04[L  ]| puppies! and this was the end of it!"
210:215,05['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer, in her way, was equally angry.
210:215,05[O  ]| "She
210:215,06[O  ]| was determined to drop his acquaintance immediately,
210:215,07[O  ]| and she was very thankful that she had never been
210:215,08[O  ]| acquainted with him at all.  She wished with all her
210:215,09[O  ]| heart Combe*Magna was not so near Cleveland; but it
210:215,10[O  ]| did not signify, for it was a great deal too far off to
210:215,11[O  ]| visit; she hated him so much that she was resolved
210:215,12[O  ]| never to mention his name again, and she should tell
210:215,13[O  ]| everybody she saw, how good-for-nothing he was."
210:215,14['  ]| The rest of Mrs%*Palmer's sympathy was shewn in procuring
210:215,15['  ]| all the particulars in her power of the approaching
210:215,16['  ]| marriage, and communicating them to Elinor.  She could
210:215,17['  ]| soon tell at what coachmaker's the new carriage was
210:215,18['  ]| building, by what painter Mr%*Willoughby's portrait
210:215,19['  ]| was drawn, and at what warehouse Miss*Grey's clothes
210:215,20['  ]| might be seen.
210:215,21['  ]| The calm and polite unconcern of Lady*Middleton
210:215,22['  ]| on the occasion was an happy relief to Elinor's spirits,
210:215,23['  ]| oppressed as they often were by the clamorous kindness
210:215,24['  ]| of the others.  It was a great comfort to her, to be sure
210:215,25['  ]| of exciting no interest in \one\ person at least among their
210:215,26['  ]| circle of friends; a great comfort to know that there
210:215,27['  ]| was \one\ who would meet her without feeling any curiosity
210:215,28['  ]| after particulars, or any anxiety for her sister's health.
210:215,29['  ]| Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances
210:215,30['  ]| of the moment, to more than its real value;
210:215,31['  ]| and she was sometimes worried down by officious condolence
210:215,32['  ]| to rate good-breeding as more indispensable to
210:215,33['  ]| comfort than good-nature.
210:215,34['  ]| Lady*Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about
210:215,35['  ]| once every day, or twice, if the subject occurred very
210:215,36['  ]| often, by saying,
210:215,36[M  ]| "It is very shocking indeed!"
210:215,36['  ]| and
210:215,37['  ]| by the means of this continual though gentle vent, was
210:215,38['  ]| able not only to see the Miss*Dashwoods from the first
210:216,01['  ]| without the smallest emotion, but very soon to see them
210:216,02['  ]| without recollecting a word of the matter; and having
210:216,03['  ]| thus supported the dignity of her own sex, and spoken
210:216,04['  ]| her decided censure of what was wrong in the other, she
210:216,05['  ]| thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of
210:216,06['  ]| her own assemblies, and therefore determined (though
210:216,07['  ]| rather against the opinion of Sir*John) that as Mrs%*Willoughby
210:216,08['  ]| would at once be a woman of elegance and
210:216,09['  ]| fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she married.
210:216,10['  ]| Colonel*Brandon's delicate unobtrusive inquiries were
210:216,11['  ]| never unwelcome to Miss*Dashwood.  He had abundantly
210:216,12['  ]| earned the privilege of intimate discussion of her
210:216,13['  ]| sister's disappointment, by the friendly zeal with which
210:216,14['  ]| he had endeavoured to soften it, and they always conversed
210:216,15['  ]| with confidence.  His chief reward for the painful
210:216,16['  ]| exertion of disclosing past sorrows and present humiliations,
210:216,17['  ]| was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne
210:216,18['  ]| sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her voice
210:216,19['  ]| whenever (though it did not often happen) she was
210:216,20['  ]| obliged, or could oblige herself to speak to him.  \These\
210:216,21['  ]| assured him that his exertion had produced an increase
210:216,22['  ]| of good-will towards himself, and \these\ gave Elinor hopes
210:216,23['  ]| of its being farther augmented hereafter; but Mrs%*Jennings,
210:216,24['  ]| who knew nothing of all this, who knew only that
210:216,25['  ]| the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that she
210:216,26['  ]| could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself,
210:216,27['  ]| nor commission her to make it for him, began, at the
210:216,28['  ]| end of two days, to think that, instead of Midsummer,
210:216,29['  ]| they would not be married till Michaelmas, and by the
210:216,30['  ]| end of a week that it would not be a match at all.  The
210:216,31['  ]| good understanding between the Colonel and Miss*Dashwood
210:216,32['  ]| seemed rather to declare that the honours of the
210:216,33['  ]| mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour, would all
210:216,34['  ]| be made over to \her\; and Mrs%*Jennings had for some
210:216,35['  ]| time ceased to think at all of Mr%*Ferrars.
210:216,36['  ]| Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt
210:216,37['  ]| of Willoughby's letter, Elinor had the painful office of
210:216,38['  ]| informing her sister that he was married.  She had taken
210:217,01['  ]| care to have the intelligence conveyed to herself, as soon
210:217,02['  ]| as it was known that the ceremony was over, as she was
210:217,03['  ]| desirous that Marianne should not receive the first notice
210:217,04['  ]| of it from the public papers, which she saw her eagerly
210:217,05['  ]| examining every morning.
210:217,06['  ]| She received the news with resolute composure; made
210:217,07['  ]| no observation on it, and at first shed no tears; but
210:217,08['  ]| after a short time they would burst out, and for the
210:217,09['  ]| rest of the day, she was in a state hardly less pitiable
210:217,10['  ]| than when she first learnt to expect the event.
210:217,11['  ]| The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were
210:217,12['  ]| married; and Elinor now hoped, as there could be no
210:217,13['  ]| danger of her seeing either of them, to prevail on her
210:217,14['  ]| sister, who had never yet left the house since the blow
210:217,15['  ]| first fell, to go out again by degrees as she had done
210:217,16['  ]| before.
210:217,17['  ]| About this time, the two Miss*Steeles, lately arrived
210:217,18['  ]| at their cousin's house in Bartlett's*Buildings, Holborn,
210:217,19['  ]| presented themselves again before their more grand
210:217,20['  ]| relations in Conduit and Berkeley-street; and were
210:217,21['  ]| welcomed by them all with great cordiality.
210:217,22['  ]| Elinor only was sorry to see them.  Their presence
210:217,23['  ]| always gave her pain, and she hardly knew how to make
210:217,24['  ]| a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of
210:217,25['  ]| Lucy in finding her \still\ in town.
210:217,26[Q  ]| "I should have been quite disappointed if I had not
210:217,27[Q  ]| found you here \still\,"
210:217,27['  ]| said she repeatedly, with a strong
210:217,28['  ]| emphasis on the word.
210:217,28[Q  ]| "But I always thought I \should\.
210:217,29[Q  ]| I was almost sure you would not leave London yet
210:217,30[Q  ]| awhile; though you \told\ me, you know, at Barton, that
210:217,31[Q  ]| you should not stay above a \month\.  But I thought, at
210:217,32[Q  ]| the time, that you would most likely change your mind
210:217,33[Q  ]| when it came to the point.  It would have been such
210:217,34[Q  ]| a great pity to have went away before your brother and
210:217,35[Q  ]| sister came.  And now to be sure you will be in no
210:217,36[Q  ]| \hurry\ to be gone.  I am amazingly glad you did not
210:217,37[Q  ]| keep to \your\ \word\."
210:217,38['  ]| Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to
210:218,01['  ]| use all her self-command to make it appear that she
210:218,02['  ]| did \not\.
210:218,03[K  ]| "Well, my dear,"
210:218,03['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
210:218,03[K  ]| "and how did
210:218,04[K  ]| you travel?"
210:218,05[P  ]| "Not in the stage, I assure you,"
210:218,05['  ]| replied Miss*Steele,
210:218,06['  ]| with quick exultation;
210:218,06[P  ]| "we came post all the way, and
210:218,07[P  ]| had a very smart beau to attend us.  Dr%*Davies was
210:218,08[P  ]| coming to town, and so we thought we'd join him in
210:218,09[P  ]| a post-chaise; and he behaved very genteelly, and paid
210:218,10[P  ]| ten or twelve shillings more than we did."
210:218,11[K  ]| "Oh, oh!"
210:218,11['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings;
210:218,11[K  ]| "very pretty,
210:218,12[K  ]| indeed! and the Doctor is a single man, I warrant you."
210:218,13[P  ]| "There now,"
210:218,13['  ]| said Miss*Steele, affectedly simpering,
210:218,14[P  ]| "everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and
210:218,15[P  ]| I cannot think why.  My cousins say they are sure I
210:218,16[P  ]| have made a conquest; but for my part I declare
210:218,17[P  ]| I never think about him from one hour's end to another.
210:218,18[P  ]| ""Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,"" my cousin said
210:218,19[P  ]| t'other day, when she saw him crossing the street to
210:218,20[P  ]| the house.  My beau, indeed! said I ~~ I cannot think
210:218,21[P  ]| who you mean.  The Doctor is no beau of mine."
210:218,22[K  ]| "Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking ~~ but it won't
210:218,23[K  ]| do ~~ the Doctor is the man, I see."
210:218,24[P  ]| "No, indeed!"
210:218,24['  ]| replied her cousin, with affected
210:218,25['  ]| earnestness,
210:218,25[P  ]| "and I beg you will contradict it, if you
210:218,26[P  ]| ever hear it talked of."
210:218,27['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance
210:218,28['  ]| that she certainly would \not\, and Miss*Steele was
210:218,29['  ]| made completely happy.
210:218,30[Q  ]| "I suppose you will go and stay with your brother
210:218,31[Q  ]| and sister, Miss*Dashwood, when they come to town,"
210:218,32['  ]| said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints,
210:218,33['  ]| to the charge.
210:218,34[A  ]| "No, I do not think we shall."
210:218,35[Q  ]| "Oh, yes, I dare say you will."
210:218,36['  ]| Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition.
210:218,37[Q  ]| "What a charming thing it is that Mrs%*Dashwood
210:218,38[Q  ]| can spare you both for so long a time together!"
210:219,01[K  ]| "Long a time, indeed!"
210:219,01['  ]| interposed Mrs%*Jennings.
210:219,02[K  ]| "Why, their visit is but just begun!"
210:219,03['  ]| Lucy was silenced.
210:219,04[P  ]| "I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss*Dashwood,"
210:219,05['  ]| said Miss*Steele.
210:219,05[P  ]| "I am sorry she is not well;"
210:219,06['  ]| for Marianne had left the room on their arrival.
210:219,07[A  ]| "You are very good.  My sister will be equally sorry
210:219,08[A  ]| to miss the pleasure of seeing you; but she has been
210:219,09[A  ]| very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches,
210:219,10[A  ]| which make her unfit for company or conversation."
210:219,11[P  ]| "Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends
210:219,12[P  ]| as Lucy and me! ~~ I think she might see \us\; and I am
210:219,13[P  ]| sure we would not speak a word."
210:219,14['  ]| Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal.  Her
210:219,15['  ]| sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her
210:219,16['  ]| dressing gown, and therefore not able to come to them.
210:219,17[P  ]| "Oh, if that's all,"
210:219,17['  ]| cried Miss*Steele,
210:219,17[P  ]| "we can just
210:219,18[P  ]| as well go and see \her\."
210:219,19['  ]| Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for
210:219,20['  ]| her temper; but she was saved the trouble of checking
210:219,21['  ]| it, by Lucy's sharp reprimand, which now, as on many
210:219,22['  ]| occasions, though it did not give much sweetness to the
210:219,23['  ]| manners of one sister, was of advantage in governing
210:219,24['  ]| those of the other.
211:220,01['  ]| After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her
211:220,02['  ]| sister's entreaties, and consented to go out with her and
211:220,03['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings one morning for half an hour.  She expressly
211:220,04['  ]| conditioned, however, for paying no visits, and
211:220,05['  ]| would do no more than accompany them to Gray's in
211:220,06['  ]| Sackvill-street, where Elinor was carrying on a negociation
211:220,07['  ]| for the exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of
211:220,08['  ]| her mother.
211:220,09['  ]| When they stopped at the door, Mrs%*Jennings recollected
211:220,10['  ]| that there was a lady at the other end of the
211:220,11['  ]| street, on whom she ought to call; and as she had no
211:220,12['  ]| business at Gray's, it was resolved, that while her young
211:220,13['  ]| friends transacted their's, she should pay her visit and
211:220,14['  ]| return for them.
211:220,15['  ]| On ascending the stairs, the Miss*Dashwoods found
211:220,16['  ]| so many people before them in the room, that there was
211:220,17['  ]| not a person at liberty to attend to their orders; and
211:220,18['  ]| they were obliged to wait.  All that could be done was,
211:220,19['  ]| to sit down at the end of the counter which seemed to
211:220,20['  ]| promise the quickest succession; one gentleman only
211:220,21['  ]| was standing there, and it is probable that Elinor was
211:220,22['  ]| not without hopes of exciting his politeness to a quicker
211:220,23['  ]| dispatch.  But the correctness of his eye, and the
211:220,24['  ]| delicacy of his taste, proved to be beyond his politeness.
211:220,25['  ]| He was giving orders for a toothpick-case for himself,
211:220,26['  ]| and till its size, shape, and ornaments were determined,
211:220,27['  ]| all of which, after examining and debating for a quarter
211:220,28['  ]| of an hour over every toothpick-case in the shop, were
211:220,29['  ]| finally arranged by his own inventive fancy, he had no
211:220,30['  ]| leisure to bestow any other attention on the two ladies,
211:220,31['  ]| than what was comprised in three or four very broad
211:220,32['  ]| stares; a kind of notice which served to imprint on
211:220,33['  ]| Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of strong,
211:221,01['  ]| natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the
211:221,02['  ]| first style of fashion.
211:221,03['  ]| Marianne was spared from the troublesome feelings of
211:221,04['  ]| contempt and resentment, on this impertinent examination
211:221,05['  ]| of their features, and on the puppyism of his manner
211:221,06['  ]| in deciding on all the different horrors of the different
211:221,07['  ]| toothpick-cases presented to his inspection, by remaining
211:221,08['  ]| unconscious of it all; for she was as well able to collect
211:221,09['  ]| her thoughts within herself, and be as ignorant of what
211:221,10['  ]| was passing around her, in Mr%*Gray's shop, as in her
211:221,11['  ]| own bed-room.
211:221,12['  ]| At last the affair was decided.  The ivory, the gold,
211:221,13['  ]| and the pearls, all received their appointment, and the
211:221,14['  ]| gentleman having named the last day on which his
211:221,15['  ]| existence could be continued without the possession of
211:221,16['  ]| the toothpick-case, drew on his gloves with leisurely
211:221,17['  ]| care, and bestowing another glance on the Miss*Dashwoods,
211:221,18['  ]| but such a one as seemed rather to demand than
211:221,19['  ]| express admiration, walked off with an happy air of real
211:221,20['  ]| conceit and affected indifference.
211:221,21['  ]| Elinor lost no time in bringing her business forward,
211:221,22['  ]| and was on the point of concluding it, when another
211:221,23['  ]| gentleman presented himself at her side.  She turned
211:221,24['  ]| her eyes towards his face, and found him with some
211:221,25['  ]| surprise to be her brother.
211:221,26['  ]| Their affection and pleasure in meeting, was just
211:221,27['  ]| enough to make a very creditable appearance in
211:221,28['  ]| Mr%*Gray's shop.  John*Dashwood was really far from
211:221,29['  ]| being sorry to see his sisters again; it rather gave them
211:221,30['  ]| satisfaction; and his inquiries after their mother were
211:221,31['  ]| respectful and attentive.
211:221,32['  ]| Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town
211:221,33['  ]| two days.
211:221,34[F  ]| "I wished very much to call upon you yesterday,"
211:221,35['  ]| said he,
211:221,35[F  ]| "but it was impossible, for we were obliged to
211:221,36[F  ]| take Harry to see the wild beasts at Exeter*Exchange:
211:221,37[F  ]| and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs%*Ferrars.
211:221,38[F  ]| Harry was vastly pleased.  \This\ morning I had fully
211:222,01[F  ]| intended to call on you, if I could possibly find a spare
211:222,02[F  ]| half hour, but one has always so much to do on first
211:222,03[F  ]| coming to town.  I am come here to bespeak Fanny
211:222,04[F  ]| a seal.  But to-morrow I think I shall certainly be able
211:222,05[F  ]| to call in Berkeley-street, and be introduced to your
211:222,06[F  ]| friend Mrs%*Jennings.  I understand she is a woman of
211:222,07[F  ]| very good fortune.  And the Middletons too, you must
211:222,08[F  ]| introduce me to \them\.  As my mother-in-law's relations,
211:222,09[F  ]| I shall be happy to shew them every respect.  They are
211:222,10[F  ]| excellent neighbours to you in the country, I understand."
211:222,11[F  ]|
211:222,12[A  ]| "Excellent indeed.  Their attention to our comfort,
211:222,13[A  ]| their friendliness in every particular, is more than I can
211:222,14[A  ]| express."
211:222,15[F  ]| "I am extremely glad to hear it, upon my word;
211:222,16[F  ]| extremely glad indeed.  But so it ought to be; they
211:222,17[F  ]| are people of large fortune, they are related to you, and
211:222,18[F  ]| every civility, and accommodation that can serve to
211:222,19[F  ]| make your situation pleasant, might be reasonably
211:222,20[F  ]| expected.  And so you are most comfortably settled in
211:222,21[F  ]| your little cottage and want for nothing!  Edward
211:222,22[F  ]| brought us a most charming account of the place; the
211:222,23[F  ]| most complete thing of its kind, he said, that ever was,
211:222,24[F  ]| and you all seemed to enjoy it beyond any*thing.  It
211:222,25[F  ]| was a great satisfaction to us to hear it, I assure you."
211:222,26['  ]| Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother; and
211:222,27['  ]| was not sorry to be spared the necessity of answering
211:222,28['  ]| him, by the arrival of Mrs%*Jennings's servant, who
211:222,29['  ]| came to tell her that his mistress waited for them at
211:222,30['  ]| the door.
211:222,31['  ]| Mr%*Dashwood attended them down*stairs, was introduced
211:222,32['  ]| to Mrs%*Jennings at the door of her carriage, and
211:222,33['  ]| repeating his hope of being able to call on them the
211:222,34['  ]| next day, took leave.
211:222,35['  ]| His visit was duly paid.  He came with a pretence
211:222,36['  ]| at an apology from their sister-in-law, for not coming
211:222,37['  ]| too;
211:222,37[G  ]| "but she was so much engaged with her mother,
211:222,38[G  ]| that really she had no leisure for going any*where."
211:223,01['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings, however, assured him directly, that
211:223,01@k   | she
211:223,02@k   | should not stand upon ceremony, for they were all
211:223,03@k   | cousins, or something like it, and she should certainly
211:223,04@k   | wait on Mrs%*John*Dashwood very soon, and bring her
211:223,05@k   | sisters to see her.
211:223,05['  ]| His manners to \them\, though calm, were
211:223,06['  ]| perfectly kind; to Mrs%*Jennings most attentively civil;
211:223,07['  ]| and on Colonel*Brandon's coming in soon after himself,
211:223,08['  ]| he eyed him with a curiosity which seemed to say, that
211:223,09['  ]| he only wanted to know him to be rich, to be equally
211:223,10['  ]| civil to \him\.
211:223,11['  ]| After staying with them half an hour, he asked Elinor
211:223,12['  ]| to walk with him to Conduit-street, and introduce him
211:223,13['  ]| to Sir*John and Lady*Middleton.  The weather was
211:223,14['  ]| remarkably fine, and she readily consented.  As soon as
211:223,15['  ]| they were out of the house, his enquiries began.
211:223,16[F  ]| "Who is Colonel*Brandon?  Is he a man of fortune?"
211:223,17[A  ]| "Yes; he has very good property in Dorsetshire."
211:223,18[F  ]| "I am glad of it.  He seems a most gentlemanlike
211:223,19[F  ]| man; and I think, Elinor, I may congratulate you on
211:223,20[F  ]| the prospect of a very respectable establishment in life."
211:223,21[A  ]| "Me, brother! what do you mean?"
211:223,22[F  ]| "He likes you.  I observed him narrowly, and am
211:223,23[F  ]| convinced of it.  What is the amount of his fortune?"
211:223,24[A  ]| "I believe about two thousand a-year."
211:223,25[F  ]| "Two thousand a-year;"
211:223,25['  ]| and then working himself
211:223,26['  ]| up to a pitch of enthusiastic generosity, he added,
211:223,27[F  ]| "Elinor, I wish, with all my heart, it were \twice\ as
211:223,28[F  ]| much, for your sake."
211:223,29[A  ]| "Indeed I believe you,"
211:223,29['  ]| replied Elinor;
211:223,29[A  ]| "but I am
211:223,30[A  ]| very sure that Colonel*Brandon has not the smallest
211:223,31[A  ]| wish of marrying \me\."
211:223,32[F  ]| "You are mistaken, Elinor; you are very much
211:223,33[F  ]| mistaken.  A very little trouble on your side secures
211:223,34[F  ]| him.  Perhaps just at present he may be undecided;
211:223,35[F  ]| the smallness of your fortune may make him hang back;
211:223,36[F  ]| his friends may all advise him against it.  But some of
211:223,37[F  ]| those little attentions and encouragements which ladies
211:223,38[F  ]| can so easily give, will fix him, in spite of himself.  And
211:224,01[F  ]| there can be no reason why you should not try for him.
211:224,02[F  ]| It is not to be supposed that any prior attachment on
211:224,03[F  ]| your side ~~ in short, you know as to an attachment of
211:224,04[F  ]| that kind, it is quite out of the question, the objections
211:224,05[F  ]| are insurmountable ~~ you have too much sense not to
211:224,06[F  ]| see all that.  Colonel*Brandon must be the man; and
211:224,07[F  ]| no civility shall be wanting on my part, to make him
211:224,08[F  ]| pleased with you and your family.  It is a match that
211:224,09[F  ]| must give universal satisfaction.  In short, it is a kind
211:224,10[F  ]| of thing that" ~~
211:224,10['  ]| lowering his voice to an important
211:224,11['  ]| whisper ~~
211:224,11[F  ]| "will be exceedingly welcome to \all\ \parties\."
211:224,12['  ]| Recollecting himself, however, he added,
211:224,12[F  ]| "That is,
211:224,13[F  ]| I mean to say ~~ your friends are all truly anxious to see
211:224,14[F  ]| you well settled; Fanny particularly, for she has your
211:224,15[F  ]| interest very much at heart, I assure you.  And her
211:224,16[F  ]| mother too, Mrs%*Ferrars, a very good-natured woman,
211:224,17[F  ]| I am sure it would give her great pleasure; she said
211:224,18[F  ]| as much the other day."
211:224,19['  ]| Elinor would not vouchsafe any answer.
211:224,20[F  ]| "It would be something remarkable now,"
211:224,20['  ]| he continued,
211:224,21[F  ]| "something droll, if Fanny should have a brother
211:224,22[F  ]| and I a sister settling at the same time.  And yet it is
211:224,23[F  ]| not very unlikely."
211:224,24[A  ]| "Is Mr%*Edward*Ferrars,"
211:224,24['  ]| said Elinor, with resolution,
211:224,25[A  ]| "going to be married?"
211:224,26[F  ]| "It is not actually settled, but there is such a thing in
211:224,27[F  ]| agitation.  He has a most excellent mother.  Mrs%*Ferrars,
211:224,28[F  ]| with the utmost liberality, will come forward, and settle
211:224,29[F  ]| on him a thousand a-year, if the match takes place.
211:224,30[F  ]| The lady is the Hon%*Miss*Morton, only daughter of the
211:224,31[F  ]| late Lord*Morton, with thirty thousand pounds.  A very
211:224,32[F  ]| desirable connection on both sides, and I have not
211:224,33[F  ]| a doubt of its taking place in time.  A thousand a-year
211:224,34[F  ]| is a great deal for a mother to give away, to make over
211:224,35[F  ]| for*ever; but Mrs%*Ferrars has a noble spirit.  To give
211:224,36[F  ]| you another instance of her liberality: ~~ The other day,
211:224,37[F  ]| as soon as we came to town, aware that money could
211:224,38[F  ]| not be very plenty with us just now, she put bank-notes
211:225,01[F  ]| into Fanny's hands to the amount of two hundred
211:225,02[F  ]| pounds.  And extremely acceptable it is, for we must
211:225,03[F  ]| live at a great expense while we are here."
211:225,04['  ]| He paused for her assent and compassion; and she
211:225,05['  ]| forced herself to say,
211:225,06[A  ]| "Your expenses both in town and country must
211:225,07[A  ]| certainly be considerable, but your income is a large one."
211:225,08[F  ]| "Not so large, I dare say, as many people suppose.
211:225,09[F  ]| I do not mean to complain, however; it is undoubtedly
211:225,10[F  ]| a comfortable one, and I hope will in time be better.
211:225,11[F  ]| The inclosure of Norland*Common, now carrying on, is
211:225,12[F  ]| a most serious drain.  And then I have made a little
211:225,13[F  ]| purchase within this half year; East*Kingham*Farm,
211:225,14[F  ]| you must remember the place, where old Gibson used
211:225,15[F  ]| to live.  The land was so very desirable for me in every
211:225,16[F  ]| respect, so immediately adjoining my own property, that
211:225,17[F  ]| I felt it my duty to buy it.  I could not have answered
211:225,18[F  ]| it to my conscience to let it fall into any other hands.
211:225,19[F  ]| A man must pay for his convenience; and it \has\ cost
211:225,20[F  ]| me a vast deal of money."
211:225,21[A  ]| "More than you think it really and intrinsically
211:225,22[A  ]| worth."
211:225,23[F  ]| "Why, I hope not that.  I might have sold it again
211:225,24[F  ]| the next day, for more than I gave:  but with regard
211:225,25[F  ]| to the purchase-money, I might have been very unfortunate
211:225,26[F  ]| indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low,
211:225,27[F  ]| that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum
211:225,28[F  ]| in my banker's hands, I must have sold out to very
211:225,29[F  ]| great loss."
211:225,30['  ]| Elinor could only smile.
211:225,31[F  ]| "Other great and inevitable expenses too we have
211:225,32[F  ]| had on first coming to Norland.  Our respected father,
211:225,33[F  ]| as you well know, bequeathed all the Stanhill effects
211:225,34[F  ]| that remained at Norland (and very valuable they were)
211:225,35[F  ]| to your mother.  Far be it from me to repine at his
211:225,36[F  ]| doing so; he had an undoubted right to dispose of his
211:225,37[F  ]| own property as he chose.  But, in consequence of it,
211:225,38[F  ]| we have been obliged to make large purchases of linen,
211:226,01[F  ]| china, &c% to supply the place of what was taken away.
211:226,02[F  ]| You may guess, after all these expenses, how very far
211:226,03[F  ]| we must be from being rich, and how acceptable
211:226,04[F  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars's kindness is."
211:226,05[A  ]| "Certainly,"
211:226,05['  ]| said Elinor;
211:226,05[A  ]| "and assisted by her
211:226,06[A  ]| liberality, I hope you may yet live to be in easy circumstances."
211:226,07[A  ]|
211:226,08[F  ]| "Another year or two may do much towards it,"
211:226,08['  ]| he
211:226,09['  ]| gravely replied;
211:226,09[F  ]| "but however there is still a great
211:226,10[F  ]| deal to be done.  There is not a stone laid of Fanny's
211:226,11[F  ]| greenhouse, and nothing but the plan of the flower-garden
211:226,12[F  ]| marked out."
211:226,13[A  ]| "Where is the green-house to be?"
211:226,14[F  ]| "Upon the knoll behind the house.  The old walnut
211:226,15[F  ]| trees are all come down to make room for it.  It will
211:226,16[F  ]| be a very fine object from many parts of the park, and
211:226,17[F  ]| the flower-garden will slope down just before it, and be
211:226,18[F  ]| exceedingly pretty.  We have cleared away all the old
211:226,19[F  ]| thorns that grew in patches over the brow."
211:226,20['  ]| Elinor kept her concern and her censure to herself;
211:226,21['  ]| and was very thankful that Marianne was not present,
211:226,22['  ]| to share the provocation.
211:226,23['  ]| Having now said enough to make his poverty clear,
211:226,24['  ]| and to do away the necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings
211:226,25['  ]| for each of his sisters, in his next visit at Gray's, his
211:226,26['  ]| thoughts took a cheerfuller turn, and he began to congratulate
211:226,27['  ]| Elinor on having such a friend as Mrs%*Jennings.
211:226,28[F  ]| "She seems a most valuable woman indeed. ~~ Her
211:226,29[F  ]| house, her style of living, all bespeak an exceeding good
211:226,30[F  ]| income; and it is an acquaintance that has not only
211:226,31[F  ]| been of great use to you hitherto, but in the end may
211:226,32[F  ]| prove materially advantageous. ~~ Her inviting you to
211:226,33[F  ]| town is certainly a vast thing in your favour; and
211:226,34[F  ]| indeed, it speaks altogether so great a regard for you,
211:226,35[F  ]| that in all probability when she dies you will not be
211:226,36[F  ]| forgotten. ~~ She must have a great deal to leave."
211:226,37[A  ]| "Nothing at all, I should rather suppose; for she
211:226,38[A  ]| has only her jointure, which will descend to her children."
211:227,01[F  ]| "But it is not to be imagined that she lives up to her
211:227,02[F  ]| income.  Few people of common prudence will do \that\;
211:227,03[F  ]| and whatever she saves, she will be able to dispose of."
211:227,04[A  ]| "And do you not think it more likely that she should
211:227,05[A  ]| leave it to her daughters, than to us?"
211:227,06[F  ]| "Her daughters are both exceedingly well married,
211:227,07[F  ]| and therefore I cannot perceive the necessity of her
211:227,08[F  ]| remembering them farther.  Whereas, in my opinion,
211:227,09[F  ]| by her taking so much notice of you, and treating you
211:227,10[F  ]| in this kind of way, she has given you a sort of claim
211:227,11[F  ]| on her future consideration, which a conscientious
211:227,12[F  ]| woman would not disregard.  Nothing can be kinder
211:227,13[F  ]| than her behaviour; and she can hardly do all this,
211:227,14[F  ]| without being aware of the expectation she raises."
211:227,15[A  ]| "But she raises none in those most concerned.
211:227,16[A  ]| Indeed, brother, your anxiety for our welfare and
211:227,17[A  ]| prosperity carries you too far."
211:227,18[F  ]| "Why to be sure,"
211:227,18['  ]| said he, seeming to recollect
211:227,19['  ]| himself,
211:227,19[F  ]| "people have little, have very little in their
211:227,20[F  ]| power.  But, my dear Elinor, what is the matter with
211:227,21[F  ]| Marianne? ~~ she looks very unwell, has lost her colour,
211:227,22[F  ]| and is grown quite thin.  Is she ill?"
211:227,23[A  ]| "She is not well, she has had a nervous complaint
211:227,24[A  ]| on her for several weeks."
211:227,25[F  ]| "I am sorry for that.  At her time of life, any*thing
211:227,26[F  ]| of an illness destroys the bloom for*ever!  Her's has
211:227,27[F  ]| been a very short one!  She was as handsome a girl
211:227,28[F  ]| last September, as any I ever saw; and as likely to
211:227,29[F  ]| attract the men.  There was something in her style of
211:227,30[F  ]| beauty, to please them particularly.  I remember Fanny
211:227,31[F  ]| used to say that she would marry sooner and better
211:227,32[F  ]| than you did; not but what she is exceedingly fond of
211:227,33[F  ]| \you\, but so it happened to strike her.  She will be
211:227,34[F  ]| mistaken, however.  I question whether Marianne \now\,
211:227,35[F  ]| will marry a man worth more than five or six hundred
211:227,36[F  ]| a-year, at the utmost, and I am very much deceived if
211:227,37[F  ]| \you\ do not do better.  Dorsetshire!  I know very little of
211:227,38[F  ]| Dorsetshire; but, my dear Elinor, I shall be exceedingly
211:228,01[F  ]| glad to know more of it; and I think I can answer
211:228,02[F  ]| for your having Fanny and myself among the earliest
211:228,03[F  ]| and best pleased of your visitors."
211:228,04['  ]| Elinor tried very seriously to convince him that there
211:228,05['  ]| was no likelihood of her marrying Colonel*Brandon; but
211:228,06['  ]| it was an expectation of too much pleasure to himself
211:228,07['  ]| to be relinquished, and he was really resolved on seeking
211:228,08['  ]| an intimacy with that gentleman, and promoting the
211:228,09['  ]| marriage by every possible attention.  He had just
211:228,10['  ]| compunction enough for having done nothing for his
211:228,11['  ]| sisters himself, to be exceedingly anxious that everybody
211:228,12['  ]| else should do a great deal; and an offer from
211:228,13['  ]| Colonel*Brandon, or a legacy from Mrs%*Jennings, was
211:228,14['  ]| the easiest means of atoning for his own neglect.
211:228,15['  ]| They were lucky enough to find Lady*Middleton at
211:228,16['  ]| home, and Sir*John came in before their visit ended.
211:228,17['  ]| Abundance of civilities passed on all sides.  Sir*John
211:228,18['  ]| was ready to like anybody, and though Mr%*Dashwood
211:228,19['  ]| did not seem to know much about horses, he soon set
211:228,20['  ]| him down as a very good-natured fellow:  while Lady*Middleton
211:228,21['  ]| saw enough of fashion in his appearance, to
211:228,22['  ]| think his acquaintance worth having; and Mr%*Dashwood
211:228,23['  ]| went away delighted with both.
211:228,24[F  ]| "I shall have a charming account to carry to Fanny,"
211:228,25['  ]| said he, as he walked back with his sister.
211:228,25[F  ]| "Lady*Middleton
211:228,26[F  ]| is really a most elegant woman!  Such
211:228,27[F  ]| a woman as I am sure Fanny will be glad to know.
211:228,28[F  ]| And Mrs%*Jennings too, an exceeding well-behaved
211:228,29[F  ]| woman, though not so elegant as her daughter.  Your
211:228,30[F  ]| sister need not have any scruple even of visiting \her\,
211:228,31[F  ]| which, to say the truth, has been a little the case, and
211:228,32[F  ]| very naturally; for we only knew that Mrs%*Jennings
211:228,33[F  ]| was the widow of a man who had got all his money in
211:228,34[F  ]| a low way; and Fanny and Mrs%*Ferrars were both
211:228,35[F  ]| strongly prepossessed that neither she nor her daughters
211:228,36[F  ]| were such kind of women as Fanny would like to associate
211:228,37[F  ]| with.  But now I can carry her a most satisfactory
211:228,38[F  ]| account of both."
212:229,01['  ]| Mrs%*John*Dashwood had so much confidence in her
212:229,02['  ]| husband's judgment that she waited the very next day
212:229,03['  ]| both on Mrs%*Jennings and her daughter; and her
212:229,04['  ]| confidence was rewarded by finding even the former,
212:229,05['  ]| even the woman with whom her sisters were staying,
212:229,06['  ]| by no means unworthy her notice; and as for Lady*Middleton,
212:229,07['  ]| she found her
212:229,07@g   | one of the most charming
212:229,08@g   | women in the world!
212:229,09['  ]| Lady*Middleton was equally pleased with Mrs%*Dashwood.
212:229,10['  ]| There was a kind of cold*hearted selfishness on
212:229,11['  ]| both sides, which mutually attracted them; and they
212:229,12['  ]| sympathised with each other in an insipid propriety of
212:229,13['  ]| demeanour, and a general want of understanding.
212:229,14['  ]| The same manners however, which recommended
212:229,15['  ]| Mrs%*John*Dashwood to the good opinion of Lady*Middleton,
212:229,16['  ]| did not suit the fancy of Mrs%*Jennings, and
212:229,17['  ]| to \her\ she appeared nothing more than a little proud-looking
212:229,18['  ]| woman of uncordial address, who met her
212:229,19['  ]| husband's sisters without any affection, and almost
212:229,20['  ]| without having any*thing to say to them; for of the
212:229,21['  ]| quarter of an hour bestowed on Berkeley-street, she sat
212:229,22['  ]| at least seven minutes and a half in silence.
212:229,23['  ]| Elinor wanted very much to know, though she did
212:229,24['  ]| not chuse to ask, whether Edward was then in town;
212:229,25['  ]| but nothing would have induced Fanny voluntarily to
212:229,26['  ]| mention his name before her, till able to tell her that
212:229,27['  ]| his marriage with Miss*Morton was resolved on, or till
212:229,28['  ]| her husband's expectations on Colonel*Brandon were
212:229,29['  ]| answered; because she believed them still so very much
212:229,30['  ]| attached to each other, that they could not be too
212:229,31['  ]| sedulously divided in word and deed on every occasion.
212:229,32['  ]| The intelligence however, which \she\ would not give soon
212:229,33['  ]| flowed from another quarter.  Lucy came very shortly
212:230,01['  ]| to claim Elinor's compassion on being unable to see
212:230,02['  ]| Edward, though he had arrived in town with Mr% and
212:230,03['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood.
212:230,03@q   | He dared not come to Bartlett's*Buildings
212:230,04@q   | for fear of detection, and though their mutual
212:230,05@q   | impatience to meet, was not to be told, they could do
212:230,06@q   | nothing at present but write.
212:230,07['  ]| Edward assured them himself of his being in town,
212:230,08['  ]| within a very short time, by twice calling in Berkeley-street.
212:230,09['  ]| Twice was his card found on the table, when
212:230,10['  ]| they returned from their morning's engagements.  Elinor
212:230,11['  ]| was pleased that he had called; and still more pleased
212:230,12['  ]| that she had missed him.
212:230,13['  ]| The Dashwoods were so prodigiously delighted with
212:230,14['  ]| the Middletons, that though not much in the habit of
212:230,15['  ]| giving any*thing, they determined to give them ~~
212:230,16['  ]| a dinner; and soon after their acquaintance began,
212:230,17['  ]| invited them to dine in Harley-street, where they had
212:230,18['  ]| taken a very good house for three months.  Their sisters
212:230,19['  ]| and Mrs%*Jennings were invited likewise, and John*Dashwood
212:230,20['  ]| was careful to secure Colonel*Brandon, who,
212:230,21['  ]| always glad to be where the Miss*Dashwoods were,
212:230,22['  ]| received his eager civilities with some surprise, but much
212:230,23['  ]| more pleasure.  They were to meet Mrs%*Ferrars; but
212:230,24['  ]| Elinor could not learn whether her sons were to be of
212:230,25['  ]| the party.  The expectation of seeing \her\, however, was
212:230,26['  ]| enough to make her interested in the engagement; for
212:230,27['  ]| though she could now meet Edward's mother without
212:230,28['  ]| that strong anxiety which had once promised to attend
212:230,29['  ]| such an introduction, though she could now see her with
212:230,30['  ]| perfect indifference as to her opinion of herself, her
212:230,31['  ]| desire of being in company with Mrs%*Ferrars, her
212:230,32['  ]| curiosity to know what she was like, was as lively
212:230,33['  ]| as ever.
212:230,34['  ]| The interest with which she thus anticipated the
212:230,35['  ]| party, was soon afterwards increased, more powerfully
212:230,36['  ]| than pleasantly, by her hearing that the Miss*Steeles
212:230,37['  ]| were also to be at it.
212:230,38['  ]| So well had they recommended themselves to Lady*Middleton,
212:231,01['  ]| so agreeable had their assiduities made them
212:231,02['  ]| to her, that though Lucy was certainly not elegant, and
212:231,03['  ]| her sister not even genteel, she was as ready as Sir*John
212:231,04['  ]| to ask them to spend a week or two in Conduit-street:
212:231,05['  ]| and it happened to be particularly convenient to the
212:231,06['  ]| Miss*Steeles, as soon as the Dashwoods' invitation was
212:231,07['  ]| known, that their visit should begin a few days before
212:231,08['  ]| the party took place.
212:231,09['  ]| Their claims to the notice of Mrs%*John*Dashwood,
212:231,10['  ]| as the nieces of the gentleman who for many years had
212:231,11['  ]| had the care of her brother, might not have done much,
212:231,12['  ]| however, towards procuring them seats at her table;
212:231,13['  ]| but as Lady*Middleton's guests they must be welcome;
212:231,14['  ]| and Lucy, who had long wanted to be personally known
212:231,15['  ]| to the family, to have a nearer view of their characters
212:231,16['  ]| and her own difficulties, and to have an opportunity of
212:231,17['  ]| endeavouring to please them, had seldom been happier
212:231,18['  ]| in her life than she was on receiving Mrs%*John*Dashwood's
212:231,19['  ]| card.
212:231,20['  ]| On Elinor its effect was very different.  She began
212:231,21['  ]| immediately to determine that
212:231,21@a   | Edward who lived with
212:231,22@a   | his mother, must be asked as his mother was, to a party
212:231,23@a   | given by his sister; and to see him for the first time
212:231,24@a   | after all that passed, in the company of Lucy! ~~ she
212:231,25@a   | hardly knew how she could bear it!
212:231,26['  ]| These apprehensions perhaps were not founded entirely
212:231,27['  ]| on reason, and certainly not at all on truth.  They were
212:231,28['  ]| relieved however, not by her own recollection, but by
212:231,29['  ]| the good*will of Lucy, who believed herself to be inflicting
212:231,30['  ]| a severe disappointment when she told her that
212:231,30@q   | Edward
212:231,31@q   | certainly would not be in Harley-street on Tuesday,
212:231,31['  ]| and
212:231,32['  ]| even hoped to be carrying the pain still farther by
212:231,33['  ]| persuading her, that
212:231,33@q   |he was kept away by that extreme
212:231,34@q   | affection for herself, which he could not conceal when
212:231,35@q   | they were together.
212:231,36['  ]| The important Tuesday came that was to introduce
212:231,37['  ]| the two young ladies to this formidable mother-in-law.
212:231,38[Q  ]| "Pity me, dear Miss*Dashwood!"
212:231,38['  ]| said Lucy, as
212:232,01['  ]| they walked up the stairs together ~~ for the Middletons
212:232,02['  ]| arrived so directly after Mrs%*Jennings, that they all
212:232,03['  ]| followed the servant at the same time ~~
212:232,03[Q  ]| "There is
212:232,04[Q  ]| nobody here but you, that can feel for me. ~~ I declare
212:232,05[Q  ]| I can hardly stand.  Good gracious! ~~ In a moment
212:232,06[Q  ]| I shall see the person that all my happiness depends
212:232,07[Q  ]| on ~~ that is to be my mother!" ~~
212:232,08['  ]| Elinor could have given her immediate relief by
212:232,09['  ]| suggesting the possibility of its being Miss*Morton's
212:232,10['  ]| mother, rather than her own, whom they were about
212:232,11['  ]| to behold; but instead of doing that, she assured her,
212:232,12['  ]| and with great sincerity, that she did pity her, ~~ to the
212:232,13['  ]| utter amazement of Lucy, who, though really uncomfortable
212:232,14['  ]| herself, hoped at least to be an object of
212:232,15['  ]| irrepressible envy to Elinor.
212:232,16['  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars was a little, thin woman, upright, even
212:232,17['  ]| to formality, in her figure, and serious, even to sourness,
212:232,18['  ]| in her aspect.  Her complexion was sallow; and her
212:232,19['  ]| features small, without beauty, and naturally without
212:232,20['  ]| expression; but a lucky contraction of the brow had
212:232,21['  ]| rescued her countenance from the disgrace of insipidity,
212:232,22['  ]| by giving it the strong characters of pride and ill*nature.
212:232,23['  ]| She was not a woman of many words:  for, unlike people
212:232,24['  ]| in general, she proportioned them to the number of her
212:232,25['  ]| ideas; and of the few syllables that did escape her, not
212:232,26['  ]| one fell to the share of Miss*Dashwood, whom she eyed
212:232,27['  ]| with the spirited determination of disliking her at all
212:232,28['  ]| events.
212:232,29['  ]| Elinor could not \now\ be made unhappy by this
212:232,30['  ]| behaviour. ~~ A few months ago it would have hurt her
212:232,31['  ]| exceedingly; but it was not in Mrs%*Ferrars's power to
212:232,32['  ]| distress her by it now; ~~ and the difference of her
212:232,33['  ]| manners to the Miss*Steeles, a difference which seemed
212:232,34['  ]| purposely made to humble her more, only amused her.
212:232,35['  ]| She could not but smile to see the graciousness of both
212:232,36['  ]| mother and daughter towards the very person ~~ for Lucy
212:232,37['  ]| was particularly distinguished ~~ whom of all others, had
212:232,38['  ]| they known as much as she did, they would have been
212:233,01['  ]| most anxious to mortify; while she herself, who had
212:233,02['  ]| comparatively no power to wound them, sat pointedly
212:233,03['  ]| slighted by both.  But while she smiled at a graciousness
212:233,04['  ]| so misapplied, she could not reflect on the mean-spirited
212:233,05['  ]| folly from which it sprung, nor observe the studied
212:233,06['  ]| attentions with which the Miss*Steeles courted its continuance,
212:233,07['  ]| without thoroughly despising them all four.
212:233,08['  ]| Lucy was all exultation on being so honourably
212:233,09['  ]| distinguished; and Miss*Steele wanted only to be teazed
212:233,10['  ]| about Dr%*Davis to be perfectly happy.
212:233,11['  ]| The dinner was a grand one, the servants were
212:233,12['  ]| numerous, and every*thing bespoke the Mistress's
212:233,13['  ]| inclination for shew, and the Master's ability to support
212:233,14['  ]| it.  In spite of the improvements and additions which
212:233,15['  ]| were making to the Norland estate, and in spite of its
212:233,16['  ]| owner having once been within some thousand pounds
212:233,17['  ]| of being obliged to sell out at a loss, nothing gave any
212:233,18['  ]| symptom of that indigence which he had tried to infer
212:233,19['  ]| from it; ~~ no poverty of any kind, except of conversation,
212:233,20['  ]| appeared ~~ but there, the deficiency was considerable.
212:233,21['  ]| John*Dashwood had not much to say for himself
212:233,22['  ]| that was worth hearing, and his wife had still less.  But
212:233,23['  ]| there was no peculiar disgrace in this, for it was very
212:233,24['  ]| much the case with the chief of their visitors, who almost
212:233,25['  ]| all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications
212:233,26['  ]| for being agreeable ~~ Want of sense, either natural or
212:233,27['  ]| improved ~~ want of elegance ~~ want of spirits ~~ or want
212:233,28['  ]| of temper.
212:233,29['  ]| When the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room after
212:233,30['  ]| dinner, this poverty was particularly evident, for the
212:233,31['  ]| gentlemen \had\ supplied the discourse with some variety
212:233,32['  ]| ~~ the variety of politics, inclosing land, and breaking
212:233,33['  ]| horses ~~ but then it was all over; and one subject only
212:233,34['  ]| engaged the ladies till coffee came in, which was the
212:233,35['  ]| comparative heights of Harry*Dashwood, and Lady*Middleton's
212:233,36['  ]| second son William, who were nearly of the
212:233,37['  ]| same age.
212:233,38['  ]| Had both the children been there, the affair might
212:234,01['  ]| have been determined too easily by measuring them at
212:234,02['  ]| once; but as Harry only was present, it was all conjectural
212:234,03['  ]| assertion on both sides, and every*body had
212:234,04['  ]| a right to be equally positive in their opinion, and to
212:234,05['  ]| repeat it over and over again as often as they liked.
212:234,06['  ]| The parties stood thus:
212:234,07['  ]| The two mothers, though each really convinced that
212:234,08['  ]| her own son was the tallest, politely decided in favour
212:234,09['  ]| of the other.
212:234,10['  ]| The two grandmothers, with not less partiality, but
212:234,11['  ]| more sincerity, were equally earnest in support of their
212:234,12['  ]| own descendant.
212:234,13['  ]| Lucy, who was hardly less anxious to please one
212:234,14['  ]| parent than the other, thought the boys were both
212:234,15['  ]| remarkably tall for their age, and could not conceive
212:234,16['  ]| that there could be the smallest difference in the world
212:234,17['  ]| between them; and Miss*Steele, with yet greater address
212:234,18['  ]| gave it, as fast as she could, in favour of each.
212:234,19['  ]| Elinor, having once delivered her opinion on William's
212:234,20['  ]| side, by which she offended Mrs%*Ferrars and Fanny still
212:234,21['  ]| more, did not see the necessity of enforcing it by any
212:234,22['  ]| farther assertion; and Marianne, when called on for
212:234,23['  ]| her's, offended them all, by declaring that
212:234,23@c   | she had no
212:234,24@c   | opinion to give, as she had never thought about it.
212:234,25['  ]| Before her removing from Norland, Elinor had painted
212:234,26['  ]| a very pretty pair of screens for her sister-in-law, which
212:234,27['  ]| being now just mounted and brought home, ornamented
212:234,28['  ]| her present drawing*room; and these screens, catching
212:234,29['  ]| the eye of John*Dashwood on his following the other
212:234,30['  ]| gentlemen into the room, were officiously handed by him
212:234,31['  ]| to Colonel*Brandon for his admiration.
212:234,32[F  ]| "These are done by my eldest sister,"
212:234,32['  ]| said he;
212:234,32[F  ]| "and
212:234,33[F  ]| you, as a man of taste, will, I dare say, be pleased with
212:234,34[F  ]| them.  I do not know whether you ever happened to
212:234,35[F  ]| see any of her performances before, but she is in general
212:234,36[F  ]| reckoned to draw extremely well."
212:234,37['  ]| The Colonel, though disclaiming all pretensions to connoisseurship,
212:234,38['  ]| warmly admired the screens, as he would
212:235,01['  ]| have done any*thing painted by Miss*Dashwood; and
212:235,02['  ]| the curiosity of the others being of course excited, they
212:235,03['  ]| were handed round for general inspection.  Mrs%*Ferrars,
212:235,04['  ]| not aware of their being Elinor's work, particularly
212:235,05['  ]| requested to look at them; and after they had received
212:235,06['  ]| the gratifying testimony of Lady*Middleton's approbation,
212:235,07['  ]| Fanny presented them to her mother, considerately
212:235,08['  ]| informing her at the same time, that they were done by
212:235,09['  ]| Miss*Dashwood.
212:235,10[I  ]| "Hum" ~~
212:235,10['  ]| said Mrs%*Ferrars ~~
212:235,10[I  ]| "very pretty," ~~
212:235,10['  ]| and
212:235,11['  ]| without regarding them at all, returned them to her
212:235,12['  ]| daughter.
212:235,13['  ]| Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother
212:235,14['  ]| had been quite rude enough, ~~ for, colouring a little, she
212:235,15['  ]| immediately said,
212:235,16[G  ]| "They are very pretty, ma'am ~~ an't they?"
212:235,16['  ]| But
212:235,17['  ]| then again, the dread of having been too civil, too
212:235,18['  ]| encouraging herself, probably came over her, for she
212:235,19['  ]| presently added,
212:235,20[G  ]| "Do you not think they are something in Miss*Morton's
212:235,21[G  ]| style of painting, ma'am? ~~ \She\ \does\ paint
212:235,22[G  ]| most delightfully! ~~ How beautifully her last landscape
212:235,23[G  ]| is done!"
212:235,24[I  ]| "Beautifully indeed!  But she \does\ every*thing
212:235,25[I  ]| well."
212:235,26['  ]| Marianne could not bear this. ~~ She was already greatly
212:235,27['  ]| displeased with Mrs%*Ferrars; and such ill-timed praise
212:235,28['  ]| of another, at Elinor's expense, though she had not any
212:235,29['  ]| notion of what was principally meant by it, provoked
212:235,30['  ]| her immediately to say with warmth,
212:235,31[C  ]| "This is admiration of a very particular kind! ~~ what
212:235,32[C  ]| is Miss*Morton to us? ~~ who knows, or who cares, for
212:235,33[C  ]| her? ~~ it is Elinor of whom \we\ think and speak."
212:235,34['  ]| And so saying, she took the screens out of her sister-in-law's
212:235,35['  ]| hands, to admire them herself as they ought to
212:235,36['  ]| be admired.
212:235,37['  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars looked exceedingly angry, and drawing
212:235,38['  ]| herself up more stiffly than ever, pronounced in retort
212:236,01['  ]| this bitter phillippic;
212:236,01[I  ]| "Miss*Morton is Lord*Morton's
212:236,02[I  ]| daughter."
212:236,03['  ]| Fanny looked very angry too, and her husband was
212:236,04['  ]| all in a fright at his sister's audacity.  Elinor was much
212:236,05['  ]| more hurt by Marianne's warmth, than she had been
212:236,06['  ]| by what produced it; but Colonel*Brandon's eyes, as
212:236,07['  ]| they were fixed on Marianne, declared that he noticed
212:236,08['  ]| only what was amiable in it, the affectionate heart which
212:236,09['  ]| could not bear to see a sister slighted in the smallest
212:236,10['  ]| point.
212:236,11['  ]| Marianne's feelings did not stop here.  The cold
212:236,12['  ]| insolence of Mrs%*Ferrars's general behaviour to her
212:236,13['  ]| sister, seemed, to her, to foretel such difficulties and
212:236,14['  ]| distresses to Elinor, as her own wounded heart taught
212:236,15['  ]| her to think of with horror; and urged by a strong
212:236,16['  ]| impulse of affectionate sensibility, she moved, after
212:236,17['  ]| a moment, to her sister's chair, and putting one arm
212:236,18['  ]| round her neck, and one cheek close to her's, said in
212:236,19['  ]| a low, but eager, voice,
212:236,20[C  ]| "Dear, dear Elinor, don't mind them.  Don't let
212:236,21[C  ]| them make \you\ unhappy."
212:236,22['  ]| She could say no more; her spirits were quite overcome,
212:236,23['  ]| and hiding her face on Elinor's shoulder, she burst
212:236,24['  ]| into tears. ~~ Every*body's attention was called, and
212:236,25['  ]| almost every*body was concerned. ~~ Colonel*Brandon
212:236,26['  ]| rose up and went to them without knowing what he
212:236,27['  ]| did. ~~ Mrs%*Jennings, with a very intelligent
212:236,27[K  ]| "Ah! poor
212:236,28[K  ]| dear,"
212:236,28['  ]| immediately gave her, her salts; and Sir*John
212:236,29['  ]| felt so desperately enraged against the author of this
212:236,30['  ]| nervous distress, that he instantly changed his seat to
212:236,31['  ]| one close by Lucy*Steele, and gave her, in a whisper,
212:236,32['  ]| a brief account of the whole shocking affair.
212:236,33['  ]| In a few minutes, however, Marianne was recovered
212:236,34['  ]| enough to put an end to the bustle, and sit down among
212:236,35['  ]| the rest; though her spirits retained the impression of
212:236,36['  ]| what had passed, the whole evening.
212:236,37[F  ]| "Poor Marianne!"
212:236,37['  ]| said her brother to Colonel*Brandon
212:236,38['  ]| in a low voice, as soon as he could secure his
212:237,01['  ]| attention, ~~
212:237,01[F  ]| "She has not such good*health as her sister,
212:237,02[F  ]| ~~ she is very nervous, ~~ she has not Elinor's constitution;
212:237,03[F  ]| ~~ and one must allow that there is something very
212:237,04[F  ]| trying to a young woman who \has\ \been\ a beauty, in the
212:237,05[F  ]| loss of her personal attractions.  You would not think
212:237,06[F  ]| it perhaps, but Marianne \was\ remarkably handsome
212:237,07[F  ]| a few months ago; quite as handsome as Elinor. ~~ Now
212:237,08[F  ]| you see it is all gone."
213:238,01['  ]| Elinor's curiosity to see Mrs%*Ferrars was satisfied. ~~
213:238,02['  ]| She had found in her every*thing that could tend to ~~
213:238,03['  ]| make a farther connection between the families, undesirable. ~~
213:238,04@a   | She had seen enough of her pride, her meanness,
213:238,05@a   | and her determined prejudice against herself, to comprehend
213:238,06@a   | all the difficulties that must have perplexed the
213:238,07@a   | engagement, and retarded the marriage, of Edward and
213:238,08@a   | herself, had he been otherwise free; ~~ and she had seen
213:238,09@a   | almost enough to be thankful for her \own\ sake, that one
213:238,10@a   | greater obstacle preserved her from suffering under any
213:238,11@a   | other of Mrs%*Ferrars's creation, preserved her from all
213:238,12@a   | dependence upon her caprice, or any solicitude for her
213:238,13@a   | good opinion.
213:238,13['  ]| Or at least, if she did not bring herself
213:238,14['  ]| quite to rejoice in Edward's being fettered to Lucy, she
213:238,15['  ]| determined, that had Lucy been more amiable, she \ought\
213:238,16['  ]| to have rejoiced.
213:238,17['  ]| She wondered that Lucy's spirits could be so very
213:238,18['  ]| much elevated by the civility of Mrs%*Ferrars; ~~ that
213:238,19['  ]| her interest and her vanity should so very much blind
213:238,20['  ]| her, as to make the attention which seemed only paid
213:238,21['  ]| her because she was \not\ \Elinor\, appear a compliment to
213:238,22['  ]| herself ~~ or to allow her to derive encouragement from
213:238,23['  ]| a preference only given her, because her real situation
213:238,24['  ]| was unknown.  But that it was so, had not only been
213:238,25['  ]| declared by Lucy's eyes at the time, but was declared
213:238,26['  ]| over again the next morning more openly, for at her
213:238,27['  ]| particular desire, Lady*Middleton set her down in
213:238,28['  ]| Berkeley-street on the chance of seeing Elinor alone, to
213:238,29['  ]| tell her how happy she was.
213:238,30['  ]| The chance proved a lucky one, for a message from
213:238,31['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer soon after she arrived, carried Mrs%*Jennings
213:238,32['  ]| away.
213:238,33[Q  ]| "My dear friend,"
213:238,33['  ]| cried Lucy as soon as they were
213:239,01['  ]| by themselves,
213:239,01[Q  ]| "I come to talk to you of my happiness.
213:239,02[Q  ]| Could any*thing be so flattering as Mrs%*Ferrars's way
213:239,03[Q  ]| of treating me yesterday?  So exceeding affable as she
213:239,04[Q  ]| was! ~~ You know how I dreaded the thoughts of seeing
213:239,05[Q  ]| her; ~~ but the very moment I was introduced, there was
213:239,06[Q  ]| such an affability in her behaviour as really should seem
213:239,07[Q  ]| to say, she had quite took a fancy to me.  Now was not
213:239,08[Q  ]| it so? ~~ You saw it all; and was not you quite struck
213:239,09[Q  ]| with it?"
213:239,10[A  ]| "She was certainly very civil to you."
213:239,11[Q  ]| "Civil! ~~ Did you see nothing but only civility? ~~
213:239,12[Q  ]| I saw a vast deal more.  Such kindness as fell to the
213:239,13[Q  ]| share of nobody but me! ~~ No pride, no hauteur, and
213:239,14[Q  ]| your sister just the same ~~ all sweetness and affability!"
213:239,15['  ]| Elinor wished to talk of something else, but Lucy still
213:239,16['  ]| pressed her to own that she had reason for her happiness;
213:239,17['  ]| and Elinor was obliged to go on. ~~
213:239,18[A  ]| "Undoubtedly, if they had known your engagement,"
213:239,19['  ]| said she,
213:239,19[A  ]| "nothing could be more flattering
213:239,20[A  ]| than their treatment of you; ~~ but as that was not the
213:239,21[A  ]| case" ~~
213:239,22[Q  ]| "I guessed you would say so" ~~
213:239,22['  ]| replied Lucy quickly ~~
213:239,23[Q  ]| "but there was no reason in the world why Mrs%*Ferrars
213:239,24[Q  ]| should seem to like me, if she did not, and her liking
213:239,25[Q  ]| me is every*thing.  You shan't talk me out of my
213:239,26[Q  ]| satisfaction.  I am sure it will all end well, and there
213:239,27[Q  ]| will be no difficulties at all, to what I used to think.
213:239,28[Q  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars is a charming woman, and so is your sister.
213:239,29[Q  ]| They are both delightful women indeed! ~~ I wonder
213:239,30[Q  ]| I should never hear you say how agreeable Mrs%*Dashwood
213:239,31[Q  ]| was!"
213:239,32['  ]| To this, Elinor had no answer to make, and did not
213:239,33['  ]| attempt any.
213:239,34[Q  ]| "Are you ill, Miss*Dashwood? ~~ you seem low ~~ you
213:239,35[Q  ]| don't speak; ~~ sure you an't well."
213:239,36[A  ]| "I never was in better health."
213:239,37[Q  ]| "I am glad of it with all my heart, but really you
213:239,38[Q  ]| did not look it.  I should be so sorry to have \you\ ill;
213:240,01[Q  ]| you, that have been the greatest comfort to me in the
213:240,02[Q  ]| world! ~~ Heaven knows what I should have done without
213:240,03[Q  ]| your friendship." ~~
213:240,04['  ]| Elinor tried to make a civil answer, though doubting
213:240,05['  ]| her own success.  But it seemed to satisfy Lucy, for
213:240,06['  ]| she directly replied,
213:240,07[Q  ]| "Indeed I am perfectly convinced of your regard for
213:240,08[Q  ]| me, and next to Edward's love, it is the greatest comfort
213:240,09[Q  ]| I have. ~~ Poor Edward! ~~ But now, there is one good
213:240,10[Q  ]| thing, we shall be able to meet, and meet pretty often,
213:240,11[Q  ]| for Lady*Middleton's delighted with Mrs%*Dashwood, so
213:240,12[Q  ]| we shall be a good deal in Harley-street, I dare say, and
213:240,13[Q  ]| Edward spends half his time with his sister ~~ besides,
213:240,14[Q  ]| Lady*Middleton and Mrs%*Ferrars will visit now; ~~ and
213:240,15[Q  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars and your sister were both so good to say
213:240,16[Q  ]| more than once, they should always be glad to see me. ~~
213:240,17[Q  ]| They are such charming women! ~~ I am sure if ever
213:240,18[Q  ]| you tell your sister what I think of her, you cannot
213:240,19[Q  ]| speak too high."
213:240,20['  ]| But Elinor would not give her any encouragement to
213:240,21['  ]| hope that she \should\ tell her sister.  Lucy continued.
213:240,22[Q  ]| "I am sure I should have seen it in a moment, if
213:240,23[Q  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars had took a dislike to me.  If she had only
213:240,24[Q  ]| made me a formal curtsey, for instance, without saying
213:240,25[Q  ]| a word, and never after had took any notice of me, and
213:240,26[Q  ]| never looked at me in a pleasant way ~~ you know what
213:240,27[Q  ]| I mean, ~~ if I had been treated in that forbidding sort
213:240,28[Q  ]| of way, I should have gave it all up in despair.  I could
213:240,29[Q  ]| not have stood it.  For where she \does\ dislike, I know
213:240,30[Q  ]| it is most violent."
213:240,31['  ]| Elinor was prevented from making any reply to this
213:240,32['  ]| civil triumph, by the door's being thrown open, the
213:240,33['  ]| servant's announcing Mr%*Ferrars, and Edward's immediately
213:240,34['  ]| walking in.
213:240,35['  ]| It was a very awkward moment; and the countenance
213:240,36['  ]| of each shewed that it was so.  They all looked
213:240,37['  ]| exceedingly foolish; and Edward seemed to have as
213:240,38['  ]| great an inclination to walk out of the room again, as to
213:241,01['  ]| advance farther into it.  The very circumstance, in its
213:241,02['  ]| unpleasantest form, which they would each have been
213:241,03['  ]| most anxious to avoid, had fallen on them ~~ They were
213:241,04['  ]| not only all three together, but were together without
213:241,05['  ]| the relief of any other person.  The ladies recovered
213:241,06['  ]| themselves first.  It was not Lucy's business to put
213:241,07['  ]| herself forward, and the appearance of secrecy must still
213:241,08['  ]| be kept up.  She could therefore only \look\ her tenderness,
213:241,09['  ]| and after slightly addressing him, said no more.
213:241,10['  ]| But Elinor had more to do; and so anxious was she,
213:241,11['  ]| for his sake and her own, to do it well, that she forced
213:241,12['  ]| herself, after a moment's recollection, to welcome him,
213:241,13['  ]| with a look and manner that were almost easy, and
213:241,14['  ]| almost open; and another struggle, another effort still
213:241,15['  ]| improved them.
213:241,15@a   | She would not allow the presence of
213:241,16@a   | Lucy, nor the consciousness of some injustice towards
213:241,17@a   | herself, to deter her from saying that she was happy to
213:241,18@a   | see him, and that she had very much regretted being
213:241,19@a   | from home, when he called before in Berkeley-street.
213:241,20@a   | She would not be frightened from paying him those
213:241,21@a   | attentions which, as a friend and almost a relation, were
213:241,22@a   | his due, by the observant eyes of Lucy, though she soon
213:241,23@a   | perceived them to be narrowly watching her.
213:241,24['  ]| Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward, and
213:241,25['  ]| he had courage enough to sit down; but his embarrassment
213:241,26['  ]| still exceeded that of the ladies in a proportion,
213:241,27['  ]| which the case rendered reasonable, though his sex
213:241,28['  ]| might make it rare; for his heart had not the indifference
213:241,29['  ]| of Lucy's, nor could his conscience have quite the ease
213:241,30['  ]| of Elinor's.
213:241,31['  ]| Lucy, with a demure and settled air, seemed determined
213:241,32['  ]| to make no contribution to the comfort of the
213:241,33['  ]| others, and would not say a word; and almost every*thing
213:241,34['  ]| that \was\ said, proceeded from Elinor, who was
213:241,35['  ]| obliged to volunteer all the information about her
213:241,36['  ]| mother's health, their coming to town, &c% which
213:241,37['  ]| Edward ought to have inquired about, but never did.
213:241,38['  ]| Her exertions did not stop here; for she soon afterwards
213:242,01['  ]| felt herself so heroically disposed as to determine,
213:242,02['  ]| under pretence of fetching Marianne, to leave the others
213:242,03['  ]| by themselves:  and she really did it, and \that\ in the
213:242,04['  ]| handsomest manner, for she loitered away several
213:242,05['  ]| minutes on the landing-place, with the most high-minded
213:242,06['  ]| fortitude, before she went to her sister.  When
213:242,07['  ]| that was once done, however, it was time for the raptures
213:242,08['  ]| of Edward to cease; for Marianne's joy hurried her into
213:242,09['  ]| the drawing-room immediately.  Her pleasure in seeing
213:242,10['  ]| him was like every other of her feelings, strong in itself,
213:242,11['  ]| and strongly spoken.  She met him with a hand that
213:242,12['  ]| would be taken, and a voice that expressed the affection
213:242,13['  ]| of a sister.
213:242,14[C  ]| "Dear Edward!"
213:242,14['  ]| she cried,
213:242,14[C  ]| "this is a moment of
213:242,15[C  ]| great happiness! ~~ This would almost make amends for
213:242,16[C  ]| every*thing!"
213:242,17['  ]| Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved,
213:242,18['  ]| but before such witnesses he dared not say half what
213:242,19['  ]| he really felt.  Again they all sat down, and for a moment
213:242,20['  ]| or two all were silent; while Marianne was looking with
213:242,21['  ]| the most speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and
213:242,22['  ]| sometimes at Elinor, regretting only that their delight
213:242,23['  ]| in each other should be checked by Lucy's unwelcome
213:242,24['  ]| presence.  Edward was the first to speak, and it was to
213:242,25['  ]| notice Marianne's altered looks, and express his fear of
213:242,26['  ]| her not finding London agree with her.
213:242,27[C  ]| "Oh! don't think of me!"
213:242,27['  ]| she replied, with spirited
213:242,28['  ]| earnestness, though her eyes were filled with tears as she
213:242,29['  ]| spoke,
213:242,29[C  ]| "don't think of \my\ health.  Elinor is well, you
213:242,30[C  ]| see.  That must be enough for us both."
213:242,31['  ]| This remark was not calculated to make Edward or
213:242,32['  ]| Elinor more easy, nor to conciliate the good*will of
213:242,33['  ]| Lucy, who looked up at Marianne with no very benignant
213:242,34['  ]| expression.
213:242,35[B  ]| "Do you like London?"
213:242,35['  ]| said Edward, willing to say
213:242,36['  ]| any*thing that might introduce another subject.
213:242,37[C  ]| "Not at all.  I expected much pleasure in it, but
213:242,38[C  ]| I have found none.  The sight of you, Edward, is the
213:243,01[C  ]| only comfort it has afforded; and thank Heaven! you
213:243,02[C  ]| are what you always were!"
213:243,03['  ]| She paused ~~ no*one spoke.
213:243,04[C  ]| "I think, Elinor,"
213:243,04['  ]| she presently added,
213:243,04[C  ]| "we must
213:243,05[C  ]| employ Edward to take care of us in our return to
213:243,06[C  ]| Barton.  In a week or two, I suppose, we shall be going;
213:243,07[C  ]| and, I trust, Edward will not be very unwilling to accept
213:243,08[C  ]| the charge."
213:243,09['  ]| Poor Edward muttered something, but what it was,
213:243,10['  ]| nobody knew, not even himself.  But Marianne, who
213:243,11['  ]| saw his agitation, and could easily trace it to whatever
213:243,12['  ]| cause best pleased herself, was perfectly satisfied, and
213:243,13['  ]| soon talked of something else.
213:243,14[C  ]| "We spent such a day, Edward, in Harley-street
213:243,15[C  ]| yesterday!  So dull, so wretchedly dull! ~~ But I have
213:243,16[C  ]| much to say to you on that head, which cannot be
213:243,17[C  ]| said now."
213:243,18['  ]| And with this admirable discretion did she defer the
213:243,19['  ]| assurance of her finding their mutual relatives more
213:243,20['  ]| disagreeable than ever, and of her being particularly
213:243,21['  ]| disgusted with his mother, till they were more in
213:243,22['  ]| private.
213:243,23[C  ]| "But why were you not there, Edward? ~~ Why did
213:243,24[C  ]| you not come?
213:243,25[B  ]| "I was engaged elsewhere."
213:243,26[C  ]| "Engaged!  But what was that, when such friends
213:243,27[C  ]| were to be met?"
213:243,28[Q  ]| "Perhaps, Miss*Marianne,"
213:243,28['  ]| cried Lucy, eager to take
213:243,29['  ]| some revenge on her,
213:243,29[Q  ]| "you think young men never
213:243,30[Q  ]| stand upon engagements, if they have no mind to keep
213:243,31[Q  ]| them, little as well as great."
213:243,32['  ]| Elinor was very angry, but Marianne seemed entirely
213:243,33['  ]| insensible of the sting; for she calmly replied,
213:243,34[C  ]| "Not so, indeed; for, seriously speaking, I am very
213:243,35[C  ]| sure that conscience only kept Edward from Harley-street.
213:243,36[C  ]| And I really believe he \has\ the most delicate
213:243,37[C  ]| conscience in the world; the most scrupulous in performing
213:243,38[C  ]| every engagement however minute, and however
213:244,01[C  ]| it may make against his interest or pleasure.  He is the
213:244,02[C  ]| most fearful of giving pain, of wounding expectation,
213:244,03[C  ]| and the most incapable of being selfish, of any*body
213:244,04[C  ]| I ever saw.  Edward, it is so and I will say it. What!
213:244,05[C  ]| are you never to hear yourself praised! ~~ Then, you
213:244,06[C  ]| must be no friend of mine; for those who will accept
213:244,07[C  ]| of my love and esteem, must submit to my open commendation."
213:244,08[C  ]|
213:243,09['  ]| The nature of her commendation, in the present case,
213:243,10['  ]| however, happened to be particularly ill-suited to the
213:243,11['  ]| feelings of two*thirds of her auditors, and was so very
213:244,12['  ]| unexhilarating to Edward, that he very soon got up to
213:244,13['  ]| go away.
213:244,14[C  ]| "Going so soon!"
213:244,14['  ]| said Marianne;
213:244,14[C  ]| "my dear Edward,
213:244,15[C  ]| this must not be."
213:244,16['  ]| And drawing him a little aside, she whispered her
213:244,17['  ]| persuasion that Lucy could not stay much longer.  But
213:244,18['  ]| even this encouragement failed, for he would go; and
213:244,19['  ]| Lucy, who would have outstaid him had his visit lasted
213:244,20['  ]| two hours, soon afterwards went away.
213:244,21[C  ]| "What can bring her here so often!"
213:244,21['  ]| said Marianne,
213:244,22['  ]| on her leaving them.
213:244,22[C  ]| "Could she not see that we
213:244,23[C  ]| wanted her gone! ~~ how teazing to Edward!"
213:244,24[A  ]| "Why so? ~~ we were all his friends, and Lucy has
213:244,25[A  ]| been the longest known to him of any.  It is but natural
213:244,26[A  ]| that he should like to see her as well as ourselves."
213:244,27['  ]| Marianne looked at her steadily, and said,
213:244,27[C  ]| "You
213:244,28[C  ]| know, Elinor, that this is a kind of talking which I cannot
213:244,29[C  ]| bear.  If you only hope to have your assertion
213:244,30[C  ]| contradicted, as I must suppose to be the case, you
213:244,31[C  ]| ought to recollect that I am the last person in the
213:244,32[C  ]| world to do it.  I cannot descend to be tricked out of
213:244,33[C  ]| assurances, that are not really wanted."
213:244,34['  ]| She then left the room; and Elinor dared not follow
213:244,35['  ]| her to say more, for bound as she was by her promise
213:244,36['  ]| of secrecy to Lucy, she could give no information that
213:244,37['  ]| would convince Marianne; and painful as the consequences
213:244,38['  ]| of her still continuing in an error might be, she
213:245,01['  ]| was obliged to submit to it.  All that she could hope,
213:245,02['  ]| was that Edward would not often expose her or himself
213:245,03['  ]| to the distress of hearing Marianne's mistaken warmth,
213:245,04['  ]| nor to the repetition of any other part of the pain that
213:245,05['  ]| had attended their recent meeting ~~ and this she had
213:245,06['  ]| every reason to expect.
214:246,01['  ]| Within a few days after this meeting, the newspapers
214:246,02['  ]| announced to the world, that the Lady of Thomas*Palmer*Esq%
214:246,03['  ]| was safely delivered of a son and heir;
214:246,04['  ]| a very interesting and satisfactory paragraph, at least
214:246,05['  ]| to all those intimate connections who knew it before.
214:246,06['  ]| This event, highly important to Mrs%*Jennings's happiness,
214:246,07['  ]| produced a temporary alteration in the disposal of
214:246,08['  ]| her time, and influenced, in a like degree, the engagements
214:246,09['  ]| of her young friends; for as she wished to be as
214:246,10['  ]| much as possible with Charlotte, she went thither every
214:246,11['  ]| morning as soon as she was dressed, and did not return
214:246,12['  ]| till late in the evening; and the Miss*Dashwoods, at
214:246,13['  ]| the particular request of the Middletons, spent the whole
214:246,14['  ]| of every day in Conduit-street.  For their own comfort,
214:246,15['  ]| they would much rather have remained, at least all the
214:246,16['  ]| morning, in Mrs%*Jennings's house; but it was not
214:246,17['  ]| a thing to be urged against the wishes of everybody.
214:246,18['  ]| Their hours were therefore made over to Lady*Middleton
214:246,19['  ]| and the two Miss*Steeles, by whom their company was
214:246,20['  ]| in fact as little valued, as it was professedly sought.
214:246,21['  ]| They had too much sense to be desirable companions
214:246,22['  ]| to the former; and by the latter they were considered
214:246,23['  ]| with a jealous eye, as intruding on \their\ ground, and
214:246,24['  ]| sharing the kindness which they wanted to monopolize.
214:246,25['  ]| Though nothing could be more polite than Lady*Middleton's
214:246,26['  ]| behaviour to Elinor and Marianne, she did not
214:246,27['  ]| really like them at all.  Because they neither flattered
214:246,28['  ]| herself nor her children, she could not believe them
214:246,29['  ]| good-natured; and because they were fond of reading,
214:246,30['  ]| she fancied them satirical:  perhaps without exactly
214:246,31['  ]| knowing what it was to be satirical; but \that\ did not
214:246,32['  ]| signify.  It was censure in common use, and easily
214:246,33['  ]| given.
214:247,01['  ]| Their presence was a restraint both on her and on
214:247,02['  ]| Lucy.  It checked the idleness of one, and the business
214:247,03['  ]| of the other.  Lady*Middleton was ashamed of doing
214:247,04['  ]| nothing before them, and the flattery which Lucy was
214:247,05['  ]| proud to think of and administer at other times, she
214:247,06['  ]| feared they would despise her for offering.  Miss*Steele
214:247,07['  ]| was the least discomposed of the three, by their presence;
214:247,08['  ]| and it was in their power to reconcile her to it entirely.
214:247,09['  ]| Would either of them, only have given her a full and
214:247,10['  ]| minute account of the whole affair between Marianne
214:247,11['  ]| and Mr%*Willoughby, she would have thought herself
214:247,12['  ]| amply rewarded for the sacrifice of the best place by
214:247,13['  ]| the fire after dinner, which their arrival occasioned.
214:247,14['  ]| But this conciliation was not granted; for though she
214:247,15['  ]| often threw out expressions of pity for her sister to
214:247,16['  ]| Elinor, and more than once dropt a reflection on the
214:247,17['  ]| inconstancy of beaux before Marianne, no effect was
214:247,18['  ]| produced, but a look of indifference from the former,
214:247,19['  ]| or of disgust in the latter.  An effort even yet lighter
214:247,20['  ]| might have made her their friend.  Would they only
214:247,21['  ]| have laughed at her about the Doctor!  But so little
214:247,22['  ]| were they, any more than the others, inclined to oblige
214:247,23['  ]| her, that if Sir*John dined from home, she might spend
214:247,24['  ]| a whole day without hearing any other raillery on the
214:247,25['  ]| subject, than what she was kind enough to bestow on
214:247,26['  ]| herself.
214:247,27['  ]| All these jealousies and discontents, however, were so
214:247,28['  ]| totally unsuspected by Mrs%*Jennings, that she thought
214:247,29['  ]| it a delightful thing for the girls to be together; and
214:247,30['  ]| generally congratulated her young friends every night,
214:247,31['  ]| on having escaped the company of a stupid old woman
214:247,32['  ]| so long.  She joined them sometimes at Sir*John's, and
214:247,33['  ]| sometimes at her own house; but wherever it was, she
214:247,34['  ]| always came in excellent spirits, full of delight and
214:247,35['  ]| importance, attributing Charlotte's well*doing to her
214:247,36['  ]| own care, and ready to give so exact, so minute a detail
214:247,37['  ]| of her situation, as only Miss*Steele had curiosity enough
214:247,38['  ]| to desire.  One thing \did\ disturb her; and of that she
214:248,01['  ]| made her daily complaint.  Mr%*Palmer maintained the
214:248,02['  ]| common, but unfatherly opinion among his sex, of all
214:248,03['  ]| infants being alike; and though she could plainly perceive
214:248,04['  ]| at different times, the most striking resemblance
214:248,05['  ]| between this baby and every one of his relations on both
214:248,06['  ]| sides, there was no convincing his father of it; no
214:248,07['  ]| persuading him to believe that it was not exactly like
214:248,08['  ]| every other baby of the same age; nor could he even
214:248,09['  ]| be brought to acknowledge the simple proposition of
214:248,10['  ]| its being the finest child in the world.
214:248,11['  ]| I come now to the relation of a misfortune, which
214:248,12['  ]| about this time befell Mrs%*John*Dashwood.  It so
214:248,13['  ]| happened that while her two sisters with Mrs%*Jennings
214:248,14['  ]| were first calling on her in Harley-street, another of her
214:248,15['  ]| acquaintance had dropt in ~~ a circumstance in itself not
214:248,16['  ]| apparently likely to produce evil to her.  But while the
214:248,17['  ]| imaginations of other people will carry them away to
214:248,18['  ]| form wrong judgments of our conduct, and to decide on
214:248,19['  ]| it by slight appearances, one's happiness must in some
214:248,20['  ]| measure be always at the mercy of chance.  In the
214:248,21['  ]| present instance, this last-arrived lady allowed her fancy
214:248,22['  ]| so far to outrun truth and probability, that on merely
214:248,23['  ]| hearing the name of the Miss*Dashwoods, and understanding
214:248,24['  ]| them to be Mr%*Dashwood's sisters, she immediately
214:248,25['  ]| concluded them to be staying in Harley-street;
214:248,26['  ]| and this misconstruction produced within a day or two
214:248,27['  ]| afterwards, cards of invitation for them as well as for
214:248,28['  ]| their brother and sister, to a small musical party at her
214:248,29['  ]| house.  The consequence of which was, that Mrs%*John*Dashwood
214:248,30['  ]| was obliged to submit not only to the exceedingly
214:248,31['  ]| great inconvenience of sending her carriage for the
214:248,32['  ]| Miss*Dashwoods; but, what was still worse, must be
214:248,33['  ]| subject to all the unpleasantness of appearing to treat
214:248,34['  ]| them with attention:  and who could tell that they
214:248,35['  ]| might not expect to go out with her a second time?
214:248,36['  ]| The power of disappointing them, it was true, must
214:248,37['  ]| always be her's.  But that was not enough; for when
214:248,38['  ]| people are determined on a mode of conduct which they
214:249,01['  ]| know to be wrong, they feel injured by the expectation
214:249,02['  ]| of any*thing better from them.
214:249,03['  ]| Marianne had now been brought by degrees, so much
214:249,04['  ]| into the habit of going out every day, that it was become
214:249,05['  ]| a matter of indifference to her, whether she went or
214:249,06['  ]| not:  and she prepared quietly and mechanically for
214:249,07['  ]| every evening's engagement, though without expecting
214:249,08['  ]| the smallest amusement from any, and very often without
214:249,09['  ]| knowing till the last moment, where it was to
214:249,10['  ]| take her.
214:249,11['  ]| To her dress and appearance she was grown so perfectly
214:249,12['  ]| indifferent, as not to bestow half the consideration
214:249,13['  ]| on it, during the whole of her toilette, which it received
214:249,14['  ]| from Miss*Steele in the first five minutes of their being
214:249,15['  ]| together, when it was finished.  Nothing escaped \her\
214:249,16['  ]| minute observation and general curiosity; she saw every*thing,
214:249,17['  ]| and asked every*thing; was never easy till she
214:249,18['  ]| knew the price of every part of Marianne's dress; could
214:249,19['  ]| have guessed the number of her gowns altogether with
214:249,20['  ]| better judgment than Marianne herself, and was not
214:249,21['  ]| without hopes of finding out before they parted, how
214:249,22['  ]| much her washing cost per week, and how much she
214:249,23['  ]| had every year to spend upon herself.  The impertinence
214:249,24['  ]| of these kind of scrutinies, moreover, was generally concluded
214:249,25['  ]| with a compliment, which though meant as its
214:249,26['  ]| douceur, was considered by Marianne as the greatest
214:249,27['  ]| impertinence of all; for after undergoing an examination
214:249,28['  ]| into the value and make of her gown, the colour of her
214:249,29['  ]| shoes, and the arrangement of her hair, she was almost
214:249,30['  ]| sure of being told that upon
214:249,30[P  ]| "her word she looked
214:249,31[P  ]| vastly smart, and she dared to say would make a great
214:249,32[P  ]| many conquests."
214:249,33['  ]| With such encouragement as this, was she dismissed
214:249,34['  ]| on the present occasion to her brother's carriage; which
214:249,35['  ]| they were ready to enter five minutes after it stopped
214:249,36['  ]| at the door, a punctuality not very agreeable to their
214:249,37['  ]| sister-in-law, who had preceded them to the house of
214:249,38['  ]| her acquaintance, and was there hoping for some delay
214:250,01['  ]| on their part that might inconvenience either herself or
214:250,02['  ]| her coachman.
214:250,03['  ]| The events of the evening were not very remarkable.
214:250,04['  ]| The party, like other musical parties, comprehended
214:250,05['  ]| a great many people who had real taste for the performance,
214:250,06['  ]| and a great many more who had none at all;
214:250,07['  ]| and the performers themselves were, as usual, in their
214:250,08['  ]| own estimation, and that of their immediate friends,
214:250,09['  ]| the first private performers in England.
214:250,10['  ]| As Elinor was neither musical, nor affecting to be
214:250,11['  ]| so, she made no scruple of turning away her eyes
214:250,12['  ]| from the grand pianoforte=, whenever it suited her,
214:250,13['  ]| and unrestrained even by the presence of a harp, and
214:250,14['  ]| a violoncello, would fix them at pleasure on any other
214:250,15['  ]| object in the room.  In one of these excursive glances
214:250,16['  ]| she perceived among a group of young men, the very
214:250,17['  ]| he, who had given them a lecture on toothpick-cases at
214:250,18['  ]| Gray's.  She perceived him soon afterwards looking at
214:250,19['  ]| herself, and speaking familiarly to her brother; and had
214:250,20['  ]| just determined to find out his name from the latter,
214:250,21['  ]| when they both came towards her, and Mr%*Dashwood
214:250,22['  ]| introduced him to her as Mr%*Robert*Ferrars.
214:250,23['  ]| He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his
214:250,24['  ]| head into a bow which assured her as plainly as words
214:250,25['  ]| could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb she
214:250,26['  ]| had heard him described to be by Lucy.  Happy had
214:250,27['  ]| it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended
214:250,28['  ]| less on his own merit, than on the merit of his nearest
214:250,29['  ]| relations!  For then his brother's bow must have given
214:250,30['  ]| the finishing stroke to what the ill-humour of his mother
214:250,31['  ]| and sister would have begun.  But while she wondered
214:250,32['  ]| at the difference of the two young men, she did not
214:250,33['  ]| find that the emptiness and conceit of the one, put her
214:250,34['  ]| at all out of charity with the modesty and worth of
214:250,35['  ]| the other.  Why they \were\ different, Robert explained
214:250,36['  ]| to her himself in the course of a quarter of an hour's
214:250,37['  ]| conversation; for, talking of his brother, and lamenting
214:250,38['  ]| the extreme \gaucherie\ which he really believed kept him
214:251,01['  ]| from mixing in proper society, he candidly and generously
214:251,02['  ]| attributed it much less to any natural deficiency, than to
214:251,03['  ]| the misfortune of a private education; while he himself,
214:251,04['  ]| though probably without any particular, any material
214:251,05['  ]| superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of
214:251,06['  ]| a public school, was as well fitted to mix in the world
214:251,07['  ]| as any other man.
214:251,08[J  ]| "Upon my soul,"
214:251,08['  ]| he added,
214:251,08[J  ]| "I believe it is nothing
214:251,09[J  ]| more; and so I often tell my mother, when she is
214:251,10[J  ]| grieving about it.  ""My dear Madam,"" I always say to
214:251,11[J  ]| her, ""you must make yourself easy.  The evil is now
214:251,12[J  ]| irremediable, and it has been entirely your own doing.
214:251,13[J  ]| Why would you be persuaded by my uncle, Sir*Robert,
214:251,14[J  ]| against your own judgment, to place Edward under
214:251,15[J  ]| private tuition, at the most critical time of his life?
214:251,16[J  ]| If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as
214:251,17[J  ]| myself, instead of sending him to Mr%*Pratt's, all this
214:251,18[J  ]| would have been prevented.""  This is the way in which
214:251,19[J  ]| I always consider the matter, and my mother is perfectly
214:251,20[J  ]| convinced of her error."
214:251,21['  ]| Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because, whatever
214:251,22['  ]| might be her general estimation of the advantage
214:251,23['  ]| of a public school, she could not think of Edward's
214:251,24['  ]| abode in Mr%*Pratt's family, with any satisfaction.
214:251,25[J  ]| "You reside in Devonshire, I think" ~~
214:251,25['  ]| was his next
214:251,26['  ]| observation,
214:251,26[J  ]| "in a cottage near Dawlish."
214:251,27['  ]| Elinor set him right as to its situation, and it seemed
214:251,28['  ]| rather surprising to him that anybody could live in
214:251,29['  ]| Devonshire, without living near Dawlish.  He bestowed
214:251,30['  ]| his hearty approbation however on their species of house.
214:251,31[J  ]| "For my own part,"
214:251,31['  ]| said he,
214:251,31[J  ]| "I am excessively fond
214:251,32[J  ]| of a cottage; there is always so much comfort, so much
214:251,33[J  ]| elegance about them.  And I protest, if I had any money
214:251,34[J  ]| to spare, I should buy a little land and build one myself,
214:251,35[J  ]| within a short distance of London, where I might drive
214:251,36[J  ]| myself down at any time, and collect a few friends about
214:251,37[J  ]| me, and be happy.  I advise every*body who is going
214:251,38[J  ]| to build, to build a cottage.  My friend Lord*Courtland
214:252,01[J  ]| came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice,
214:252,02[J  ]| and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi's.
214:252,03[J  ]| I was to decide on the best of them.  ""My dear Courtland,""
214:252,04[J  ]| said I, immediately throwing them all into the
214:252,05[J  ]| fire, ""do not adopt either of them, but by all means
214:252,06[J  ]| build a cottage.""  And that, I fancy, will be the end of it.
214:252,07[J  ]| "Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations,
214:252,08[J  ]| no space in a cottage; but this is all a mistake.
214:252,09[J  ]| I was last month at my friend Elliott's near
214:252,10[J  ]| Dartford.  Lady*Elliott wished to give a dance.  ""But
214:252,11[J  ]| how can it be done?"" said she; ""my dear Ferrars, do
214:252,12[J  ]| tell me how it is to be managed.  There is not a room
214:252,13[J  ]| in this cottage that will hold ten couple, and where can
214:252,14[J  ]| the supper be?""  \I\ immediately saw that there could
214:252,15[J  ]| be no difficulty in it, so I said, ""My dear Lady*Elliott,
214:252,16[J  ]| do not be uneasy.  The dining*parlour will admit
214:252,17[J  ]| eighteen couple with ease; card-tables may be placed
214:252,18[J  ]| in the drawing-room; the library may be open for tea
214:252,19[J  ]| and other refreshments; and let the supper be set out
214:252,20[J  ]| in the saloon.""  Lady*Elliott was delighted with the
214:252,21[J  ]| thought.  We measured the dining-room, and found it
214:252,22[J  ]| would hold exactly eighteen couple, and the affair was
214:252,23[J  ]| arranged precisely after my plan.  So that, in fact, you
214:252,24[J  ]| see, if people do but know how to set about it, every
214:252,25[J  ]| comfort may be as well enjoyed in a cottage as in the
214:252,26[J  ]| most spacious dwelling."
214:252,27['  ]| Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved
214:252,28['  ]| the compliment of rational opposition.
214:252,29['  ]| As John*Dashwood had no more pleasure in music
214:252,30['  ]| than his eldest sister, his mind was equally at liberty
214:252,31['  ]| to fix on any*thing else; and a thought struck him
214:252,32['  ]| during the evening, which he communicated to his wife,
214:252,33['  ]| for her approbation, when they got home.  The consideration
214:252,34['  ]| of Mrs%*Dennison's mistake, in supposing his
214:252,35['  ]| sisters their guests, had suggested the propriety of their
214:252,36['  ]| being really invited to become such, while Mrs%*Jennings's
214:252,37['  ]| engagements kept her from home.
214:252,37@f   | The expense would
214:252,38@f   | be nothing, the inconvenience not more;
214:252,38['  ]| and it was
214:253,01['  ]| altogether an attention, which the delicacy of his conscience
214:253,02['  ]| pointed out to be requisite to its complete
214:253,03['  ]| enfranchisement from his promise to his father.  Fanny
214:253,04['  ]| was startled at the proposal.
214:253,05[G  ]| "I do not see how it can be done,"
214:253,05['  ]| said she,
214:253,05[G  ]| "without
214:253,06[G  ]| affronting Lady*Middleton, for they spend every day
214:253,07[G  ]| with her; otherwise I should be exceedingly glad to do
214:253,08[G  ]| it.  You know I am always ready to pay them any
214:253,09[G  ]| attention in my power, as my taking them out this
214:253,10[G  ]| evening shews.  But they are Lady*Middleton's visitors.
214:253,11[G  ]| How can I ask them away from her?"
214:253,12['  ]| Her husband, but with great humility, did not see the
214:253,13['  ]| force of her objection.
214:253,13[F  ]| "They had already spent a week
214:253,14[F  ]| in this manner in Conduit-street, and Lady*Middleton
214:253,15[F  ]| could not be displeased at their giving the same number
214:253,16[F  ]| of days to such near relations."
214:253,17['  ]| Fanny paused a moment, and then, with fresh vigour,
214:253,18['  ]| said,
214:253,19[G  ]| "My love, I would ask them with all my heart, if it
214:253,20[G  ]| was in my power.  But I had just settled within myself
214:253,21[G  ]| to ask the Miss*Steeles to spend a few days with us.
214:253,22[G  ]| They are very well*behaved, good kind of girls; and
214:253,23[G  ]| I think the attention is due to them, as their uncle did
214:253,24[G  ]| so very well by Edward.  We can ask your sisters some
214:253,25[G  ]| other year, you know; but the Miss*Steeles may not
214:253,26[G  ]| be in town any more.  I am sure you will like them;
214:253,27[G  ]| indeed, you \do\ like them, you know, very much already,
214:253,28[G  ]| and so does my mother; and they are such favourites
214:253,29[G  ]| with Harry!"
214:253,30['  ]| Mr%*Dashwood was convinced.  He saw the necessity
214:253,31['  ]| of inviting the Miss*Steeles immediately, and his conscience
214:253,32['  ]| was pacified by the resolution of inviting his
214:253,33['  ]| sisters another year; at the same time, however, slyly
214:253,34['  ]| suspecting that another year would make the invitation
214:253,35['  ]| needless, by bringing Elinor to town as Colonel*Brandon's
214:253,36['  ]| wife, and Marianne as \their\ visitor.
214:253,37['  ]| Fanny, rejoicing in her escape, and proud of the ready
214:253,38['  ]| wit that had procured it, wrote the next morning to
214:254,01['  ]| Lucy, to request her company and her sister's, for some
214:254,02['  ]| days, in Harley-street, as soon as Lady*Middleton could
214:254,03['  ]| spare them.  This was enough to make Lucy really and
214:254,04['  ]| reasonably happy.
214:254,04@q   | Mrs%*Dashwood seemed actually
214:254,05@q   | working for her, herself; cherishing all her hopes, and
214:254,06@q   | promoting all her views!  Such an opportunity of being
214:254,07@q   | with Edward and his family was, above all things, the
214:254,08@q   | most material to her interest, and such an invitation
214:254,09@q   | the most gratifying to her feelings!
214:254,09['  ]| It was an advantage
214:254,10['  ]| that could not be too gratefully acknowledged, nor too
214:254,11['  ]| speedily made use of; and the visit to Lady*Middleton,
214:254,12['  ]| which had not before had any precise limits, was
214:254,13['  ]| instantly discovered to have been always meant to end
214:254,14['  ]| in two days time.
214:254,15['  ]| When the note was shewn to Elinor, as it was within
214:254,16['  ]| ten minutes after its arrival, it gave her, for the first
214:254,17['  ]| time, some share in the expectations of Lucy; for
214:254,17@a   | such
214:254,18@a   | a mark of uncommon kindness, vouchsafed on so short
214:254,19@a   | an acquaintance, seemed to declare that the good*will
214:254,20@a   | towards her arose from something more than merely
214:254,21@a   | malice against herself; and might be brought, by time
214:254,22@a   | and address, to do every*thing that Lucy wished.  Her
214:254,23@a   | flattery had already subdued the pride of Lady*Middleton,
214:254,24@a   | and made an entry into the close heart of Mrs%*John*Dashwood;
214:254,25@a   | and these were effects that laid open the
214:254,26@a   | probability of greater.
214:254,27['  ]| The Miss*Steeles removed to Harley-street, and all
214:254,28['  ]| that reached Elinor of their influence there, strengthened
214:254,29['  ]| her expectation of the event.  Sir*John, who called on
214:254,30['  ]| them more than once, brought home such accounts of
214:254,31['  ]| the favour they were in, as must be universally striking.
214:254,32@l   | Mrs%*Dashwood had never been so much pleased with
214:254,33@l   | any young women in her life, as she was with them;
214:254,34@l   | had given each of them a needle*book, made by some
214:254,35@l   | emigrant; called Lucy by her christian name; and did
214:254,36@l   | not know whether she should ever be able to part with
214:254,37@l   | them.
301:257,01['  ]| Mrs%*Palmer was so well at the end of a fortnight, that
301:257,02['  ]| her mother felt it no longer necessary to give up the
301:257,03['  ]| whole of her time to her; and contenting herself with
301:257,04['  ]| visiting her once or twice a day, returned from that period
301:257,05['  ]| to her own home, and her own habits, in which she found
301:257,06['  ]| the Miss*Dashwoods very ready to reassume their former
301:257,07['  ]| share.
301:257,08['  ]| About the third or fourth morning after their being
301:257,09['  ]| thus re-settled in Berkeley-street, Mrs%*Jennings, on returning
301:257,10['  ]| from her ordinary visit to Mrs%*Palmer, entered
301:257,11['  ]| the drawing-room, where Elinor was sitting by herself,
301:257,12['  ]| with an air of such hurrying importance as prepared her
301:257,13['  ]| to hear something wonderful; and giving her time only
301:257,14['  ]| to form that idea, began directly to justify it by saying,
301:257,15[K  ]| "Lord! my dear Miss*Dashwood! have you heard
301:257,16[K  ]| the news!"
301:257,17[A  ]| "No, ma'am.  What is it?"
301:257,18[K  ]| "Something so strange!  But you shall hear it all. ~~
301:257,19[K  ]| When I got to Mr%*Palmer's, I found Charlotte quite in
301:257,20[K  ]| a fuss about the child.  She was sure it was very ill ~~ it
301:257,21[K  ]| cried, and fretted, and was all over pimples.  So I looked
301:257,22[K  ]| at it directly, and, ""Lord! my dear,"" says I, ""it is nothing
301:257,23[K  ]| in the world but the red-gum;"" and nurse said just
301:257,24[K  ]| the same.  But Charlotte, she would not be satisfied, so
301:257,25[K  ]| Mr%*Donavan was sent for; and luckily he happened to
301:257,26[K  ]| be just come in from Harley-street, so he stepped over
301:257,27[K  ]| directly, and as soon as ever he saw the child, he said just
301:257,28[K  ]| as we did, that it was nothing in the world but the red-gum,
301:257,29[K  ]| and then Charlotte was easy.  And so, just as he
301:257,30[K  ]| was going away again, it came into my head, I am sure
301:258,01[K  ]| I do not know how I happened to think of it, but it came
301:258,02[K  ]| into my head to ask him if there was any news.  So
301:258,03[K  ]| upon that, he smirked, and simpered, and looked grave,
301:258,04[K  ]| and seemed to know something or other, and at last he
301:258,05[K  ]| said in a whisper,
301:258,05@w   | ""For fear any unpleasant report should
301:258,06@w   | reach the young ladies under your care as to their sister's
301:258,07@w   | indisposition, I think it advisable to say, that I believe
301:258,08@w   | there is no great reason for alarm; I hope Mrs%*Dashwood
301:258,09@w   | will do very well."""
301:258,10[A  ]| "What! is Fanny ill?"
301:258,11[K  ]| "That is exactly what I said, my dear.  ""Lord!""
301:258,12[K  ]| says I, ""is Mrs%*Dashwood ill?""  So then it all came out;
301:258,13[K  ]| and the long and the short of the matter, by all I can
301:258,14[K  ]| learn, seems to be this.  Mr%*Edward*Ferrars, the very
301:258,15[K  ]| young man I used to joke with you about (but however,
301:258,16[K  ]| as it turns out, I am monstrous glad there never was any*thing
301:258,17[K  ]| in it), Mr%*Edward*Ferrars, it seems, has been
301:258,18[K  ]| engaged above this twelvemonth to my cousin Lucy! ~~
301:258,19[K  ]| There's for you, my dear! ~~ And not a creature knowing
301:258,20[K  ]| a syllable of the matter except Nancy! ~~ Could you have
301:258,21[K  ]| believed such a thing possible? ~~ There is no great
301:258,22[K  ]| wonder in their liking one another; but that matters
301:258,23[K  ]| should be brought so forward between them, and nobody
301:258,24[K  ]| suspect it!  \That\ is strange! ~~ I never happened to see them
301:258,25[K  ]| together, or I am sure I should have found it out directly.
301:258,26[K  ]| Well, and so this was kept a great secret, for fear of
301:258,27[K  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars, and neither she nor your brother or sister
301:258,28[K  ]| suspected a word of the matter; ~~ till this very morning,
301:258,29[K  ]| poor Nancy, who, you know, is a well-meaning creature,
301:258,30[K  ]| but no conjurer, popt it all out.  ""Lord!"" thinks she to
301:258,31[K  ]| herself, ""they are all so fond of Lucy, to be sure they will
301:258,32[K  ]| make no difficulty about it;"" and so, away she went to
301:258,33[K  ]| your sister, who was sitting all alone at her carpet-work,
301:258,34[K  ]| little suspecting what was to come ~~ for she had just been
301:258,35[K  ]| saying to your brother, only five minutes before, that
301:258,36[K  ]| she thought to make a match between Edward and some
301:258,37[K  ]| Lord's daughter or other, I forget who.  So you may
301:258,38[K  ]| think what a blow it was to all her vanity and pride.
301:259,01[K  ]| She fell into violent hysterics immediately, with such
301:259,02[K  ]| screams as reached your brother's ears, as he was sitting
301:259,03[K  ]| in his own dressing-room down*stairs, thinking about
301:259,04[K  ]| writing a letter to his steward in the country.  So up he
301:259,05[K  ]| flew directly, and a terrible scene took place, for Lucy was
301:259,06[K  ]| come to them by that time, little dreaming what was
301:259,07[K  ]| going on.  Poor soul!  I pity \her\.  And I must say, I
301:259,08[K  ]| think she was used very hardly; for your sister scolded
301:259,09[K  ]| like any fury, and soon drove her into a fainting fit.
301:259,10[K  ]| Nancy, she fell upon her knees, and cried bitterly; and
301:259,11[K  ]| your brother, he walked about the room, and said he did
301:259,12[K  ]| not know what to do.  Mrs%*Dashwood declared they
301:259,13[K  ]| should not stay a minute longer in the house, and your
301:259,14[K  ]| brother was forced to go down upon \his\ knees too, to
301:259,15[K  ]| persuade her to let them stay till they had packed up
301:259,16[K  ]| their clothes.  \Then\ she fell into hysterics again, and he
301:259,17[K  ]| was so frightened that he would send for Mr%*Donavan,
301:259,18[K  ]| and Mr%*Donavan found the house in all this uproar.
301:259,19[K  ]| The carriage was at the door ready to take my poor
301:259,20[K  ]| cousins away, and they were just stepping in as he came
301:259,21[K  ]| off; poor Lucy in such a condition, he says, she could
301:259,22[K  ]| hardly walk; and Nancy, she was almost as bad.  I
301:259,23[K  ]| declare, I have no patience with your sister; and I hope,
301:259,24[K  ]| with all my heart, it will be a match in spite of her.
301:259,25[K  ]| Lord! what a taking poor Mr%*Edward will be in when
301:259,26[K  ]| he hears of it!  To have his love used so scornfully! for
301:259,27[K  ]| they say he is monstrous fond of her, as well he may.
301:259,28[K  ]| I should not wonder, if he was to be in the greatest of
301:259,29[K  ]| a passion! ~~ and Mr%*Donavan thinks just the same.  He
301:259,30[K  ]| and I had a great deal of talk about it; and the best of
301:259,31[K  ]| all is, that he is gone back again to Harley-street, that
301:259,32[K  ]| he may be within call when Mrs%*Ferrars is told of it, for
301:259,33[K  ]| she was sent for as soon as ever my cousins left the house,
301:259,34[K  ]| for your sister was sure \she\ would be in hysterics too;
301:259,35[K  ]| and so she may, for what I care.  I have no pity for either
301:259,36[K  ]| of them.  I have no notion of people's making such
301:259,37[K  ]| a to-do about money and greatness.  There is no reason
301:259,38[K  ]| on earth why Mr%*Edward and Lucy should not marry;
301:260,01[K  ]| for I am sure Mrs%*Ferrars may afford to do very well by
301:260,02[K  ]| her son, and though Lucy has next to nothing herself,
301:260,03[K  ]| she knows better than any*body how to make the most
301:260,04[K  ]| of every*thing; and I dare say, if Mrs%*Ferrars would only
301:260,05[K  ]| allow him five hundred a-year, she would make as good
301:260,06[K  ]| an appearance with it as any*body else would with eight.
301:260,07[K  ]| Lord! how snug they might live in such another cottage
301:260,08[K  ]| as yours ~~ or a little bigger ~~ with two maids and two
301:260,09[K  ]| men; and I believe I could help them to a housemaid,
301:260,10[K  ]| for my Betty has a sister out of place, that would fit
301:260,11[K  ]| them exactly."
301:260,12['  ]| Here Mrs%*Jennings ceased, and as Elinor had had
301:260,13['  ]| time enough to collect her thoughts, she was able to give
301:260,14['  ]| such an answer, and make such observations, as the
301:260,15['  ]| subject might naturally be supposed to produce.  Happy
301:260,16['  ]| to find that she was not suspected of any extraordinary
301:260,17['  ]| interest in it; that Mrs%*Jennings (as she had of late
301:260,18['  ]| often hoped might be the case) had ceased to imagine
301:260,19['  ]| her at all attached to Edward; and happy above all the
301:260,20['  ]| rest, in the absence of Marianne, she felt very well able
301:260,21['  ]| to speak of the affair without embarrassment, and to
301:260,22['  ]| give her judgment, as she believed, with impartiality
301:260,23['  ]| on the conduct of every*one concerned in it.
301:260,24['  ]| She could hardly determine what her own expectation
301:260,25['  ]| of its event really was; though she earnestly tried to drive
301:260,26['  ]| away the notion of its being possible to end otherwise at
301:260,27['  ]| last, than in the marriage of Edward and Lucy.  What
301:260,28['  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars would say and do, though there could
301:260,29['  ]| not be a doubt of its nature, she was anxious to hear;
301:260,30['  ]| and still more anxious to know how Edward would conduct
301:260,31['  ]| himself.  For \him\ she felt much compassion; ~~ for
301:260,32['  ]| Lucy very little ~~ and it cost her some pains to procure
301:260,33['  ]| that little; ~~ for the rest of the party none at all.
301:260,34['  ]| As Mrs%*Jennings could talk on no other subject, Elinor
301:260,35['  ]| soon saw the necessity of preparing Marianne for its
301:260,36['  ]| discussion.  No time was to be lost in undeceiving her,
301:260,37['  ]| in making her acquainted with the real truth, and in
301:260,38['  ]| endeavouring to bring her to hear it talked of by others,
301:261,01['  ]| without betraying that she felt any uneasiness for her
301:261,02['  ]| sister, or any resentment against Edward.
301:261,03['  ]| Elinor's office was a painful one. ~~ She was going to
301:261,04['  ]| remove what she really believed to be her sister's chief
301:261,05['  ]| consolation, ~~ to give such particulars of Edward, as she
301:261,06['  ]| feared would ruin him for*ever in her good opinion, ~~ and
301:261,07['  ]| to make Marianne, by a resemblance in their situations,
301:261,08['  ]| which to \her\ fancy would seem strong, feel all her own
301:261,09['  ]| disappointment over again.  But unwelcome as such
301:261,10['  ]| a task must be, it was necessary to be done, and Elinor
301:261,11['  ]| therefore hastened to perform it.
301:261,12['  ]| She was very far from wishing to dwell on her own
301:261,13['  ]| feelings, or to represent herself as suffering much, any
301:261,14['  ]| otherwise than as the self-command she had practised
301:261,15['  ]| since her first knowledge of Edward's engagement,
301:261,16['  ]| might suggest a hint of what was practicable to Marianne.
301:261,17['  ]| Her narration was clear and simple; and though it
301:261,18['  ]| could not be given without emotion, it was not accompanied
301:261,19['  ]| by violent agitation, nor impetuous grief. ~~ \That\
301:261,20['  ]| belonged rather to the hearer, for Marianne listened with
301:261,21['  ]| horror, and cried excessively.  Elinor was to be the
301:261,22['  ]| comforter of others in her own distresses, no less than in
301:261,23['  ]| theirs; and all the comfort that could be given by
301:261,24['  ]| assurances of her own composure of mind, and a very
301:261,25['  ]| earnest vindication of Edward from every charge but
301:261,26['  ]| of imprudence, was readily offered.
301:261,27['  ]| But Marianne for some time would give credit to
301:261,28['  ]| neither.  Edward seemed a second Willoughby; and
301:261,29['  ]| acknowledging as Elinor did, that she \had\ loved him most
301:261,30['  ]| sincerely, could she feel less than herself!  As for Lucy*Steele,
301:261,31['  ]| she considered her so totally unamiable, so
301:261,32['  ]| absolutely incapable of attaching a sensible man, that
301:261,33['  ]| she could not be persuaded at first to believe, and afterwards
301:261,34['  ]| to pardon, any former affection of Edward for
301:261,35['  ]| her.  She would not even admit it to have been natural;
301:261,36['  ]| and Elinor left her to be convinced that it was so, by that
301:261,37['  ]| which only could convince her, a better knowledge of
301:261,38['  ]| mankind.
301:262,01['  ]| Her first communication had reached no farther than
301:262,02['  ]| to state the fact of the engagement, and the length of
301:262,03['  ]| time it had existed. ~~ Marianne's feelings had then broken
301:262,04['  ]| in, and put an end to all regularity of detail; and for
301:262,05['  ]| some time all that could be done was to sooth her distress,
301:262,06['  ]| lessen her alarms, and combat her resentment.  The
301:262,07['  ]| first question on her side, which led to farther particulars,
301:262,08['  ]| was,
301:262,09[C  ]| "How long has this been known to you, Elinor? has
301:262,10[C  ]| he written to you?"
301:262,11[A  ]| "I have known it these four months.  When Lucy first
301:262,12[A  ]| came to Barton-park last November, she told me in
301:262,13[A  ]| confidence of her engagement."
301:262,14['  ]| At these words, Marianne's eyes expressed the
301:262,15['  ]| astonishment, which her lips could not utter.  After a
301:262,16['  ]| pause of wonder, she exclaimed,
301:262,17[C  ]| "Four months! ~~ Have you known of this four
301:262,18[C  ]| months?" ~~
301:262,19['  ]| Elinor confirmed it.
301:262,20[C  ]| "What! ~~ while attending me in all my misery, has
301:262,21[C  ]| this been on your heart? ~~ and I have reproached you
301:262,22[C  ]| for being happy!" ~~
301:262,23[A  ]| "It was not fit that you should then know how much
301:262,24[A  ]| I was the reverse!" ~~
301:262,25[C  ]| "Four months!" ~~
301:262,25['  ]| cried Marianne again. ~~
301:262,25[C  ]| "So calm!
301:262,26[C  ]| ~~ so cheerful! ~~ how have you been supported?" ~~
301:262,27[A  ]| "By feeling that I was doing my duty. ~~ My promise
301:262,28[A  ]| to Lucy, obliged me to be secret.  I owed it to her,
301:262,29[A  ]| therefore, to avoid giving any hint of the truth; and
301:262,30[A  ]| I owed it to my family and friends, not to create in them
301:262,31[A  ]| a solicitude about me, which it could not be in my power
301:262,32[A  ]| to satisfy."
301:262,33['  ]| Marianne seemed much struck. ~~
301:262,34[A  ]| "I have very often wished to undeceive yourself and
301:262,35[A  ]| my mother,"
301:262,35['  ]| added Elinor;
301:262,35[A  ]| "and once or twice I have
301:262,36[A  ]| attempted it; ~~ but without betraying my trust, I never
301:262,37[A  ]| could have convinced you."
301:262,38[C  ]| "Four months! ~~ and yet you loved him!" ~~
301:263,01[A  ]| "Yes.  But I did not love only him; ~~ and while the
301:263,02[A  ]| comfort of others was dear to me, I was glad to spare
301:263,03[A  ]| them from knowing how much I felt.  Now, I can think
301:263,04[A  ]| and speak of it with little emotion.  I would not have
301:263,05[A  ]| you suffer on my account; for I assure you I no
301:263,06[A  ]| longer suffer materially myself.  I have many things to
301:263,07[A  ]| support me.  I am not conscious of having provoked the
301:263,08[A  ]| disappointment by any imprudence of my own, and I
301:263,09[A  ]| have borne it as much as possible without spreading it
301:263,10[A  ]| farther.  I acquit Edward of all essential misconduct.
301:263,11[A  ]| I wish him very happy; and I am so sure of his always
301:263,12[A  ]| doing his duty, that though now he may harbour some
301:263,13[A  ]| regret, in the end he must become so.  Lucy does not
301:263,14[A  ]| want sense, and that is the foundation on which every*thing
301:263,15[A  ]| good may be built. ~~ And after all, Marianne, after
301:263,16[A  ]| all that is bewitching in the idea of a single and constant
301:263,17[A  ]| attachment, and all that can be said of one's happiness
301:263,18[A  ]| depending entirely on any particular person, it is not
301:263,19[A  ]| meant ~~ it is not fit ~~ it is not possible that it should be
301:263,20[A  ]| so. ~~ Edward will marry Lucy; he will marry a woman
301:263,21[A  ]| superior in person and understanding to half her sex;
301:263,22[A  ]| and time and habit will teach him to forget that he ever
301:263,23[A  ]| thought another superior to \her\." ~~
301:263,24[C  ]| "If such is your way of thinking,"
301:263,24['  ]| said Marianne,
301:263,24[C  ]| "if
301:263,25[C  ]| the loss of what is most valued is so easily to be made up
301:263,26[C  ]| by something else, your resolution, your self-command,
301:263,27[C  ]| are, perhaps, a little less to be wondered at. ~~ They are
301:263,28[C  ]| brought more within my comprehension."
301:263,29[A  ]| "I understand you. ~~ You do not suppose that I have
301:263,30[A  ]| ever felt much. ~~ For four months, Marianne, I have had
301:263,31[A  ]| all this hanging on my mind, without being at liberty
301:263,32[A  ]| to speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it would
301:263,33[A  ]| make you and my mother most unhappy whenever it
301:263,34[A  ]| were explained to you, yet unable to prepare you for it
301:263,35[A  ]| in the least. ~~ It was told me, ~~ it was in a manner forced
301:263,36[A  ]| on me by the very person herself, whose prior engagement
301:263,37[A  ]| ruined all my prospects; and told me, as I thought,
301:263,38[A  ]| with triumph. ~~ This person's suspicions, therefore, I
301:264,01[A  ]| have had to oppose, by endeavouring to appear indifferent
301:264,02[A  ]| where I have been most deeply interested; ~~
301:264,03[A  ]| and it has not been only once; ~~ I have had her hopes
301:264,04[A  ]| and exultation to listen to again and again. ~~ I have
301:264,05[A  ]| known myself to be divided from Edward for*ever,
301:264,06[A  ]| without hearing one circumstance that could make
301:264,07[A  ]| me less desire the connection. ~~ Nothing has proved
301:264,08[A  ]| him unworthy; nor has any*thing declared him indifferent
301:264,09[A  ]| to me. ~~ I have had to contend against the
301:264,10[A  ]| unkindness of his sister, and the insolence of his mother;
301:264,11[A  ]| and have suffered the punishment of an attachment,
301:264,12[A  ]| without enjoying its advantages. ~~ And all this has been
301:264,13[A  ]| going on at a time, when, as you too well know, it has
301:264,14[A  ]| not been my only unhappiness. ~~ If you can think me
301:264,15[A  ]| capable of ever feeling ~~ surely you may suppose that
301:264,16[A  ]| I have suffered \now\.  The composure of mind with which
301:264,17[A  ]| I have brought myself at present to consider the matter,
301:264,18[A  ]| the consolation that I have been willing to admit, have
301:264,19[A  ]| been the effect of constant and painful exertion; ~~ they
301:264,20[A  ]| did not spring up of themselves; ~~ they did not occur
301:264,21[A  ]| to relieve my spirits at first ~~ No, Marianne. ~~ \Then\, if
301:264,22[A  ]| I had not been bound to silence, perhaps nothing could
301:264,23[A  ]| have kept me entirely ~~ not even what I owed to my
301:264,24[A  ]| dearest friends ~~ from openly shewing that I was \very\
301:264,25[A  ]| unhappy." ~~
301:264,26['  ]| Marianne was quite subdued. ~~
301:264,27[C  ]| "Oh! Elinor,"
301:264,27['  ]| she cried,
301:264,27[C  ]| "you have made me hate
301:264,28[C  ]| myself for*ever. ~~ How barbarous have I been to you!
301:264,29[C  ]| ~~ you, who have been my only comfort, who have borne
301:264,30[C  ]| with me in all my misery, who have seemed to be only
301:264,31[C  ]| suffering for me! ~~ Is this my gratitude! ~~ Is this the only
301:264,32[C  ]| return I can make you? ~~ Because your merit cries out
301:264,33[C  ]| upon myself, I have been trying to do it away."
301:264,34['  ]| The tenderest caresses followed this confession.  In
301:264,35['  ]| such a frame of mind as she was now in, Elinor had no
301:264,36['  ]| difficulty in obtaining from her whatever promise she required;
301:264,37['  ]| and at her request, Marianne engaged never to
301:264,38['  ]| speak of the affair to any*one with the least appearance
301:265,01['  ]| of bitterness; ~~ to meet Lucy without betraying the
301:265,02['  ]| smallest increase of dislike to her; ~~ and even to see
301:265,03['  ]| Edward himself, if chance should bring them together,
301:265,04['  ]| without any diminution of her usual cordiality. ~~ These
301:265,05['  ]| were great concessions; ~~ but where Marianne felt that
301:265,06['  ]| she had injured, no reparation could be too much for
301:265,07['  ]| her to make.
301:265,08['  ]| She performed her promise of being discreet, to
301:265,09['  ]| admiration. ~~ She attended to all that Mrs%*Jennings had
301:265,10['  ]| to say upon the subject, with an unchanging complexion,
301:265,11['  ]| dissented from her in nothing, and was heard three times
301:265,12['  ]| to say,
301:265,12[C  ]| "Yes, ma'am." ~~
301:265,12['  ]| She listened to her praise of Lucy
301:265,13['  ]| with only moving from one chair to another, and when
301:265,14['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings talked of Edward's affection, it cost her only
301:265,15['  ]| a spasm in her throat. ~~ Such advances towards heroism
301:265,16['  ]| in her sister, made Elinor feel equal to any*thing herself.
301:265,17['  ]| The next morning brought a farther trial of it, in a visit
301:265,18['  ]| from their brother, who came with a most serious aspect
301:265,19['  ]| to talk over the dreadful affair, and bring them news of
301:265,20['  ]| his wife.
301:265,21[F  ]| "You have heard, I suppose,"
301:265,21['  ]| said he with great
301:265,22['  ]| solemnity, as soon as he was seated,
301:265,22[F  ]| "of the very
301:265,23[F  ]| shocking discovery that took place under our roof
301:265,24[F  ]| yesterday."
301:265,25['  ]| They all looked their assent; it seemed too awful
301:265,26['  ]| a moment for speech.
301:265,27[F  ]| "Your sister,"
301:265,27['  ]| he continued,
301:265,27[F  ]| "has suffered dreadfully.
301:265,28[F  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars too ~~ in short it has been a scene of such
301:265,29[F  ]| complicated distress ~~ but I will hope that the storm
301:265,30[F  ]| may be weathered without our being any of us quite
301:265,31[F  ]| overcome.  Poor Fanny! she was in hysterics all
301:265,32[F  ]| yesterday.  But I would not alarm you too much.
301:265,33[F  ]| Donavan says there is nothing materially to be apprehended;
301:265,34[F  ]| her constitution is a good one, and her resolution
301:265,35[F  ]| equal to any*thing.  She has borne it all, with the
301:265,36[F  ]| fortitude of an angel!  She says she never shall think
301:265,37[F  ]| well of anybody again; and one cannot wonder at it,
301:265,38[F  ]| after being so deceived! ~~ meeting with such ingratitude,
301:266,01[F  ]| where so much kindness had been shewn, so much
301:266,02[F  ]| confidence had been placed!  It was quite out of the
301:266,03[F  ]| benevolence of her heart, that she had asked these young
301:266,04[F  ]| women to her house; merely because she thought they
301:266,05[F  ]| deserved some attention, were harmless, well-behaved
301:266,06[F  ]| girls, and would be pleasant companions; for otherwise
301:266,07[F  ]| we both wished very much to have invited you and
301:266,08[F  ]| Marianne to be with us, while your kind friend there, was
301:266,09[F  ]| attending her daughter.  And now to be so rewarded!
301:266,10@g   | ""I wish with all my heart,""
301:266,10[F  ]| says poor Fanny in her
301:266,11[F  ]| affectionate way,
301:266,11@g   | ""that we had asked your sisters instead
301:266,12@g   | of them."""
301:266,13['  ]| Here he stopped to be thanked; which being done,
301:266,14['  ]| he went on.
301:266,15[F  ]| "What poor Mrs%*Ferrars suffered, when first Fanny
301:266,16[F  ]| broke it to her, is not to be described.  While she with
301:266,17[F  ]| the truest affection had been planning a most eligible
301:266,18[F  ]| connection for him, was it to be supposed that he could
301:266,19[F  ]| be all the time secretly engaged to another person! ~~
301:266,20[F  ]| such a suspicion could never have entered her head!
301:266,21[F  ]| If she suspected \any\ prepossession elsewhere, it could
301:266,22[F  ]| not be in \that\ quarter.
301:266,22@i   | ""\There\, to be sure,""
301:266,22[F  ]| said she,
301:266,23@i   | ""I might have thought myself safe.""
301:266,23[F  ]| She was quite in
301:266,24[F  ]| an agony.  We consulted together, however, as to what
301:266,25[F  ]| should be done, and at last she determined to send for
301:266,26[F  ]| Edward.  He came.  But I am sorry to relate what
301:266,27[F  ]| ensued.  All that Mrs%*Ferrars could say to make him
301:266,28[F  ]| put an end to the engagement, assisted too as you may
301:266,29[F  ]| well suppose by my arguments, and Fanny's entreaties,
301:266,30[F  ]| was of no avail.  Duty, affection, every*thing was disregarded.
301:266,31[F  ]| I never thought Edward so stubborn, so
301:266,32[F  ]| unfeeling before.  His mother explained to him her
301:266,33[F  ]| liberal designs, in case of his marrying Miss*Morton;
301:266,34[F  ]| told him that she would settle on him the Norfolk estate,
301:266,35[F  ]| which, clear of land-tax, brings in a good thousand a-year;
301:266,36[F  ]| offered even, when matters grew desperate, to make it
301:266,37[F  ]| twelve hundred; and in opposition to this, if he still
301:266,38[F  ]| persisted in this low connection, represented to him the
301:267,01[F  ]| certain penury that must attend the match.  His own
301:267,02[F  ]| two thousand pounds she protested should be his all;
301:267,03[F  ]| she would never see him again; and so far would she
301:267,04[F  ]| be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if he
301:267,05[F  ]| were to enter into any profession with a view of better
301:267,06[F  ]| support, she would do all in her power to prevent his
301:267,07[F  ]| advancing in it."
301:267,08['  ]| Here Marianne, in an ecstacy of indignation, clapped
301:267,09['  ]| her hands together, and cried,
301:267,09[C  ]| "Gracious God! can
301:267,10[C  ]| this be possible!"
301:267,11[F  ]| "Well may you wonder, Marianne,"
301:267,11['  ]| replied her
301:267,12['  ]| brother,
301:267,12[F  ]| "at the obstinacy which could resist such
301:267,13[F  ]| arguments as these.  Your exclamation is very natural."
301:267,14['  ]| Marianne was going to retort, but she remembered
301:267,15['  ]| her promises, and forbore.
301:267,16[F  ]| "All this, however,"
301:267,16['  ]| he continued,
301:267,16[F  ]| "was urged in
301:267,17[F  ]| vain.  Edward said very little; but what he did say,
301:267,18[F  ]| was in the most determined manner.  Nothing should
301:267,19[F  ]| prevail on him to give up his engagement.  He would
301:267,20[F  ]| stand to it, cost him what it might."
301:267,21[K  ]| "Then,"
301:267,21['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings with blunt sincerity,
301:267,22['  ]| no longer able to be silent,
301:267,22[K  ]| "he has acted like an honest
301:267,23[K  ]| man!  I beg your pardon, Mr%*Dashwood, but if he had
301:267,24[K  ]| done otherwise, I should have thought him a rascal.
301:267,25[K  ]| I have some little concern in the business, as well as yourself,
301:267,26[K  ]| for Lucy*Steele is my cousin, and I believe there
301:267,27[K  ]| is not a better kind of girl in the world, nor one who
301:267,28[K  ]| more deserves a good husband."
301:267,29['  ]| John*Dashwood was greatly astonished; but his
301:267,30['  ]| nature was calm, not open to provocation, and he never
301:267,31['  ]| wished to offend anybody, especially anybody of good
301:267,32['  ]| fortune.  He therefore replied, without any resentment,
301:267,33[F  ]| "I would by no means speak disrespectfully of any
301:267,34[F  ]| relation of yours, madam.  Miss*Lucy*Steele is, I dare
301:267,35[F  ]| say, a very deserving young woman, but in the present
301:267,36[F  ]| case you know, the connection must be impossible.  And
301:267,37[F  ]| to have entered into a secret engagement with a young
301:267,38[F  ]| man under her uncle's care, the son of a woman especially
301:268,01[F  ]| of such very large fortune as Mrs%*Ferrars, is perhaps
301:268,02[F  ]| altogether a little extraordinary.  In short, I do not
301:268,03[F  ]| mean to reflect upon the behaviour of any person whom
301:268,04[F  ]| you have a regard for, Mrs%*Jennings.  We all wish her
301:268,05[F  ]| extremely happy, and Mrs%*Ferrars's conduct throughout
301:268,06[F  ]| the whole, has been such as every conscientious,
301:268,07[F  ]| good mother, in like circumstances, would adopt.  It
301:268,08[F  ]| has been dignified and liberal.  Edward has drawn his
301:268,09[F  ]| own lot, and I fear it will be a bad one."
301:268,10['  ]| Marianne sighed out her similar apprehension; and
301:268,11['  ]| Elinor's heart wrung for the feelings of Edward, while
301:268,12['  ]| braving his mother's threats, for a woman who could not
301:268,13['  ]| reward him.
301:268,14[K  ]| "Well, sir,"
301:268,14['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
301:268,14[K  ]| "and how did it
301:268,15[K  ]| end?"
301:268,16[F  ]| "I am sorry to say, ma'am, in a most unhappy
301:268,17[F  ]| rupture: ~~ Edward is dismissed for*ever from his
301:268,18[F  ]| mother's notice.  He left her house yesterday, but where
301:268,19[F  ]| he is gone, or whether he is still in town, I do not know;
301:268,20[F  ]| for \we\ of course can make no inquiry."
301:268,21[K  ]| "Poor young man! ~~ and what is to become of him?"
301:268,22[F  ]| "What, indeed, ma'am!  It is a melancholy consideration.
301:268,23[F  ]| Born to the prospect of such affluence!  I cannot
301:268,24[F  ]| conceive a situation more deplorable.  The interest of
301:268,25[F  ]| two thousand pounds ~~ how can a man live on it! ~~ and
301:268,26[F  ]| when to that is added the recollection, that he might, but
301:268,27[F  ]| for his own folly, within three months have been in the
301:268,28[F  ]| receipt of two thousand, five hundred a-year, (for Miss*Morton
301:268,29[F  ]| has thirty thousand pounds,) I cannot picture
301:268,30[F  ]| to myself a more wretched condition.  We must all feel
301:268,31[F  ]| for him; and the more so, because it is totally out of our
301:268,32[F  ]| power to assist him."
301:268,33[K  ]| "Poor young man!"
301:268,33['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings,
301:268,33[K  ]| "I am
301:268,34[K  ]| sure he should be very welcome to bed and board at my
301:268,35[K  ]| house; and so I would tell him if I could see him.  It is
301:268,36[K  ]| not fit that he should be living about at his own charge
301:268,37[K  ]| now, at lodgings and taverns."
301:268,38['  ]| Elinor's heart thanked her for such kindness towards
301:269,01['  ]| Edward, though she could not forbear smiling at the
301:269,02['  ]| form of it.
301:269,03[F  ]| "If he would only have done as well by himself,"
301:269,03['  ]| said
301:269,04['  ]| John*Dashwood,
301:269,04[F  ]| "as all his friends were disposed to do
301:269,05[F  ]| by him, he might now have been in his proper situation,
301:269,06[F  ]| and would have wanted for nothing.  But as it is, it must
301:269,07[F  ]| be out of anybody's power to assist him.  And there is
301:269,08[F  ]| one thing more preparing against him, which must be
301:269,09[F  ]| worse than all ~~ his mother has determined, with a very
301:269,10[F  ]| natural kind of spirit, to settle \that\ estate upon Robert
301:269,11[F  ]| immediately, which might have been Edward's, on
301:269,12[F  ]| proper conditions.  I left her this morning with her
301:269,13[F  ]| lawyer, talking over the business."
301:269,14[K  ]| "Well!"
301:269,14['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings,
301:269,14[K  ]| "that is \her\ revenge.
301:269,15[K  ]| Everybody has a way of their own.  But I don't think
301:269,16[K  ]| mine would be, to make one son independent, because
301:269,17[K  ]| another had plagued me."
301:269,18['  ]| Marianne got up, and walked about the room.
301:269,19[F  ]| "Can any*thing be more galling to the spirit of a man,"
301:269,20['  ]| continued John,
301:269,20[F  ]| "than to see his younger brother in
301:269,21[F  ]| possession of an estate which might have been his own?
301:269,22[F  ]| Poor Edward!  I feel for him sincerely."
301:269,23['  ]| A few minutes more spent in the same kind of effusion,
301:269,24['  ]| concluded his visit; and with repeated assurances to
301:269,25['  ]| his sisters that
301:269,25@f   | he really believed there was no material
301:269,26@f   | danger in Fanny's indisposition, and that they need not
301:269,27@f   | therefore be very uneasy about it,
301:269,27['  ]| he went away; leaving
301:269,28['  ]| the three ladies unanimous in their sentiments on the
301:269,29['  ]| present occasion, as far at least as it regarded Mrs%*Ferrars's
301:269,30['  ]| conduct, the Dashwoods' and Edward's.
301:269,31['  ]| Marianne's indignation burst forth as soon as he
301:269,32['  ]| quitted the room; and as her vehemence made reserve
301:269,33['  ]| impossible in Elinor, and unnecessary in Mrs%*Jennings,
301:269,34['  ]| they all joined in a very spirited critique upon the party.
302:270,01['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings was very warm in her praise of Edward's
302:270,02['  ]| conduct, but only Elinor and Marianne understood its
302:270,03['  ]| true merit.  \They\ only knew how little he had had to
302:270,04['  ]| tempt him to be disobedient, and how small was the
302:270,05['  ]| consolation, beyond the consciousness of doing right, that
302:270,06['  ]| could remain to him in the loss of friends and fortune.
302:270,07['  ]| Elinor gloried in his integrity; and Marianne forgave
302:270,08['  ]| all his offences in compassion for his punishment.  But
302:270,09['  ]| though confidence between them was, by this public
302:270,10['  ]| discovery, restored to its proper state, it was not a
302:270,11['  ]| subject on which either of them were fond of dwelling
302:270,12['  ]| when alone.  Elinor avoided it upon principle, as tending
302:270,13['  ]| to fix still more upon her thoughts, by the too warm,
302:270,14['  ]| too positive assurances of Marianne, that belief of
302:270,15['  ]| Edward's continued affection for herself which she rather
302:270,16['  ]| wished to do away; and Marianne's courage soon failed
302:270,17['  ]| her, in trying to converse upon a topic which always
302:270,18['  ]| left her more dissatisfied with herself than ever, by the
302:270,19['  ]| comparison it necessarily produced between Elinor's
302:270,20['  ]| conduct and her own.
302:270,21['  ]| She felt all the force of that comparison; but not as
302:270,22['  ]| her sister had hoped, to urge her to exertion now; she felt
302:270,23['  ]| it with all the pain of continual self-reproach, regretted
302:270,24['  ]| most bitterly that she had never exerted herself before;
302:270,25['  ]| but it brought only the torture of penitence, without
302:270,26['  ]| the hope of amendment.  Her mind was so much
302:270,27['  ]| weakened that she still fancied present exertion impossible,
302:270,28['  ]| and therefore it only dispirited her more.
302:270,29['  ]| Nothing new was heard by them, for a day or two
302:270,30['  ]| afterwards, of affairs in Harley-street, or Bartlett's*Buildings.
302:270,31['  ]| But though so much of the matter was
302:270,32['  ]| known to them already, that Mrs%*Jennings might have
302:270,33['  ]| had enough to do in spreading that knowledge farther,
302:271,01['  ]| without seeking after more, she had resolved from the
302:271,02['  ]| first to pay a visit of comfort and inquiry to her cousins
302:271,03['  ]| as soon as she could; and nothing but the hindrance of
302:271,04['  ]| more visitors than usual, had prevented her going to
302:271,05['  ]| them within that time.
302:271,06['  ]| The third day succeeding their knowledge of the
302:271,07['  ]| particulars, was so fine, so beautiful a Sunday as to draw
302:271,08['  ]| many to Kensington*Gardens, though it was only the
302:271,09['  ]| second week in March.  Mrs%*Jennings and Elinor were
302:271,10['  ]| of the number; but Marianne, who knew that the
302:271,11['  ]| Willoughbys were again in town, and had a constant
302:271,12['  ]| dread of meeting them, chose rather to stay at home,
302:271,13['  ]| than venture into so public a place.
302:271,14['  ]| An intimate acquaintance of Mrs%*Jennings joined
302:271,15['  ]| them soon after they entered the Gardens, and Elinor
302:271,16['  ]| was not sorry that by her continuing with them, and
302:271,17['  ]| engaging all Mrs%*Jennings's conversation, she was herself
302:271,18['  ]| left to quiet reflection.  She saw nothing of the
302:271,19['  ]| Willoughbys, nothing of Edward, and for some time
302:271,20['  ]| nothing of anybody who could by any chance whether
302:271,21['  ]| grave or gay, be interesting to her.  But at last she found
302:271,22['  ]| herself with some surprise, accosted by Miss*Steele, who,
302:271,23['  ]| though looking rather shy, expressed great satisfaction
302:271,24['  ]| in meeting them, and on receiving encouragement from
302:271,25['  ]| the particular kindness of Mrs%*Jennings, left her own
302:271,26['  ]| party for a short time, to join their's.  Mrs%*Jennings
302:271,27['  ]| immediately whispered to Elinor.
302:271,28[K  ]| "Get it all out of her, my dear.  She will tell you any*thing
302:271,29[K  ]| if you ask.  You see I cannot leave Mrs%*Clarke."
302:271,30['  ]| It was lucky, however, for Mrs%*Jennings's curiosity and
302:271,31['  ]| Elinor's too, that she would tell any*thing \without\ being
302:271,32['  ]| asked, for nothing would otherwise have been learnt.
302:271,33[P  ]| "I am so glad to meet you;"
302:271,33['  ]| said Miss*Steele, taking
302:271,34['  ]| her familiarly by the arm ~~
302:271,34[P  ]| "for I wanted to see you of
302:271,35[P  ]| all things in the world."
302:271,35['  ]| And then lowering her voice,
302:271,36[P  ]| "I suppose Mrs%*Jennings has heard all about it.  Is she
302:271,37[P  ]| angry?"
302:271,38[A  ]| "Not at all, I believe, with you."
302:272,01[P  ]| "That is a good thing.  And Lady*Middleton, is \she\
302:272,02[P  ]| angry?"
302:272,03[A  ]| "I cannot suppose it possible that she should."
302:272,04[P  ]| "I am monstrous glad of it.  Good gracious!  I have
302:272,05[P  ]| had such a time of it!  I never saw Lucy in such a rage
302:272,06[P  ]| in my life.  She vowed at first she would never trim me
302:272,07[P  ]| up a new bonnet, nor do any*thing else for me again, so
302:272,08[P  ]| long as she lived; but now she is quite come to, and we
302:272,09[P  ]| are as good friends as ever.  Look, she made me this
302:272,10[P  ]| bow to my hat, and put in the feather last night.  There
302:272,11[P  ]| now, \you\ are going to laugh at me too.  But why should
302:272,12[P  ]| not I wear pink ribbons?  I do not care if it is the
302:272,13[P  ]| Doctor's favourite colour.  I am sure, for my part, I
302:272,14[P  ]| should never have known he \did\ like it better than any
302:272,15[P  ]| other colour, if he had not happened to say so.  My
302:272,16[P  ]| cousins have been so plaguing me! ~~ I declare sometimes
302:272,17[P  ]| I do not know which way to look before them."
302:272,18['  ]| She had wandered away to a subject on which Elinor
302:272,19['  ]| had nothing to say, and therefore soon judged it expedient
302:272,20['  ]| to find her way back again to the first.
302:272,21[P  ]| "Well, but Miss*Dashwood,"
302:272,21['  ]| speaking triumphantly,
302:272,22[P  ]| "people may say what they chuse about Mr%*Ferrars's
302:272,23[P  ]| declaring he would not have Lucy, for it's no such a
302:272,24[P  ]| thing I can tell you; and it's quite a shame for such
302:272,25[P  ]| ill-natured reports to be spread abroad.  Whatever Lucy
302:272,26[P  ]| might think about it herself, you know, it was no business
302:272,27[P  ]| of other people to set it down for certain."
302:272,28[A  ]| "I never heard anything of the kind hinted at before,
302:272,29[A  ]| I assure you,"
302:272,29['  ]| said Elinor.
302:272,30[P  ]| "Oh! did not you?  But it \was\ said, I know, very
302:272,31[P  ]| well, and by more than one; for Miss*Godby told Miss*Sparks,
302:272,32[P  ]| that nobody in their senses could expect Mr%*Ferrars
302:272,33[P  ]| to give up a woman like Miss*Morton, with
302:272,34[P  ]| thirty thousand pounds to her fortune, for Lucy*Steele
302:272,35[P  ]| that had nothing at all; and I had it from Miss*Sparks
302:272,36[P  ]| myself.  And besides that, my cousin Richard said
302:272,37[P  ]| himself, that when it came to the point, he was afraid
302:272,38[P  ]| Mr%*Ferrars would be off; and when Edward did not
302:273,01[P  ]| come near us for three days, I could not tell what to
302:273,02[P  ]| think myself; and I believe in my heart Lucy gave it
302:273,03[P  ]| all up for lost; for we came away from your brother's on
302:273,04[P  ]| Wednesday, and we saw nothing of him not all Thursday,
302:273,05[P  ]| Friday, and Saturday, and did not know what was
302:273,06[P  ]| become with him.  Once Lucy thought to write to him,
302:273,07[P  ]| but then her spirit rose against that.  However this
302:273,08[P  ]| morning he came just as we came home from church;
302:273,09[P  ]| and then it all came out, how he had been sent for
302:273,10[P  ]| Wednesday to Harley-street, and been talked to by
302:273,11[P  ]| his mother and all of them, and how he had declared
302:273,12[P  ]| before them all that he loved nobody but Lucy, and
302:273,13[P  ]| nobody but Lucy would he have.  And how he had been
302:273,14[P  ]| so worried by what passed, that as soon as he had went
302:273,15[P  ]| away from his mother's house, he had got upon his
302:273,16[P  ]| horse, and rid into the country some*where or other;
302:273,17[P  ]| and how he had staid about at an inn all Thursday and
302:273,18[P  ]| Friday, on purpose to get the better of it.  And after
302:273,19[P  ]| thinking it all over and over again, he said, it seemed to
302:273,20[P  ]| him as if, now he had no fortune, and no nothing at all,
302:273,21[P  ]| it would be quite unkind to keep her on to the engagement,
302:273,22[P  ]| because it must be for her loss, for he had nothing
302:273,23[P  ]| but two thousand pounds, and no hope of any*thing
302:273,24[P  ]| else; and if he was to go into orders, as he had some
302:273,25[P  ]| thoughts, he could get nothing but a curacy, and how
302:273,26[P  ]| was they to live upon that? ~~ He could not bear to think
302:273,27[P  ]| of her doing no better, and so he begged, if she had the
302:273,28[P  ]| least mind for it, to put an end to the matter directly,
302:273,29[P  ]| and leave him to shift for himself.  I heard him say all
302:273,30[P  ]| this as plain as could possibly be.  And it was entirely
302:273,31[P  ]| for \her\ sake, and upon \her\ account, that he said a word
302:273,32[P  ]| about being off, and not upon his own.  I will take my
302:273,33[P  ]| oath he never dropt a syllable of being tired of her, or
302:273,34[P  ]| of wishing to marry Miss*Morton, or anything like it.
302:273,35[P  ]| But, to be sure, Lucy would not give ear to such kind of
302:273,36[P  ]| talking; so she told him directly (with a great deal about
302:273,37[P  ]| sweet and love, you know, and all that ~~ Oh, la! one
302:273,38[P  ]| can't repeat such kind of things you know) ~~ she told
302:274,01[P  ]| him directly, she had not the least mind in the world to
302:274,02[P  ]| be off, for she could live with him upon a trifle, and how
302:274,03[P  ]| little so ever he might have, she should be very glad to
302:274,04[P  ]| have it all, you know, or something of the kind.  So then
302:274,05[P  ]| he was monstrous happy, and talked on some time about
302:274,06[P  ]| what they should do, and they agreed he should take
302:274,07[P  ]| orders directly, and they must wait to be married till he
302:274,08[P  ]| got a living.  And just then I could not hear any more,
302:274,09[P  ]| for my cousin called from below to tell me Mrs%*Richardson
302:274,10[P  ]| was come in her coach, and would take one of us to
302:274,11[P  ]| Kensington*Gardens; so I was forced to go into the
302:274,12[P  ]| room and interrupt them, to ask Lucy if she would like
302:274,13[P  ]| to go, but she did not care to leave Edward; so I just
302:274,14[P  ]| run up*stairs and put on a pair of silk stockings, and came
302:274,15[P  ]| off with the Richardsons."
302:274,16[A  ]| "I do not understand what you mean by interrupting
302:274,17[A  ]| them"
302:274,17['  ]| said Elinor;
302:274,17[A  ]| "you were all in the same room
302:274,18[A  ]| together, were not you?"
302:274,19[P  ]| "No, indeed, not us.  La!  Miss*Dashwood, do you
302:274,20[P  ]| think people make love when any*body else is by?  Oh
302:274,21[P  ]| for shame! ~~ To be sure you must know better than that.
302:274,22['  ]| (Laughing affectedly.) ~~
302:274,22[P  ]| No, no; they were shut up in
302:274,23[P  ]| the drawing-room together, and all I heard was only
302:274,24[P  ]| by listening at the door."
302:274,25[A  ]| "How!"
302:274,25['  ]| cried Elinor;
302:274,25[A  ]| "have you been repeating
302:274,26[A  ]| to me what you only learnt yourself by listening at the
302:274,27[A  ]| door?  I am sorry I did not know it before; for I certainly
302:274,28[A  ]| would not have suffered you to give me particulars
302:274,29[A  ]| of a conversation which you ought not to have known
302:274,30[A  ]| yourself.  How could you behave so unfairly by your
302:274,31[A  ]| sister?"
302:274,32[P  ]| "Oh, la! there is nothing in \that\.  I only stood at the
302:274,33[P  ]| door, and heard what I could.  And I am sure Lucy
302:274,34[P  ]| would have done just the same by me; for a year or two
302:274,35[P  ]| back, when Martha*Sharpe and I had so many secrets
302:274,36[P  ]| together, she never made any bones of hiding in a closet,
302:274,37[P  ]| or behind a chimney-board, on purpose to hear what we
302:274,38[P  ]| said."
302:275,01['  ]| Elinor tried to talk of something else; but Miss*Steele
302:275,02['  ]| could not be kept beyond a couple of minutes, from what
302:275,03['  ]| was uppermost in her mind.
302:275,04[P  ]| "Edward talks of going to Oxford soon,"
302:275,04['  ]| said she,
302:275,05[P  ]| "but now he is lodging at No%***, Pall*Mall.  What an
302:275,06[P  ]| ill-natured woman his mother is, an't she?  And your
302:275,07[P  ]| brother and sister were not very kind!  However,
302:275,08[P  ]| I shan't say anything against them to \you\; and to be
302:275,09[P  ]| sure they did send us home in their own chariot, which
302:275,10[P  ]| was more than I looked for.  And for my part, I was all
302:275,11[P  ]| in a fright for fear your sister should ask us for the huswifes
302:275,12[P  ]| she had gave us a day or two before; but however,
302:275,13[P  ]| nothing was said about them, and I took care to keep
302:275,14[P  ]| mine out of sight.  Edward have got some business at
302:275,15[P  ]| Oxford, he says; so he must go there for a time; and
302:275,16[P  ]| after \that\, as soon as he can light upon a Bishop, he will
302:275,17[P  ]| be ordained.  I wonder what curacy he will get! ~~ Good
302:275,18[P  ]| gracious!
302:275,18['  ]| (giggling as she spoke)
302:275,18[P  ]| I'd lay my life I know
302:275,19[P  ]| what my cousins will say, when they hear of it.  They
302:275,20[P  ]| will tell me I should write to the Doctor, to get Edward
302:275,21[P  ]| the curacy of his new living.  I know they will; but I
302:275,22[P  ]| am sure I would not do such a thing for all the world. ~~
302:275,23[P  ]| ""La!"" I shall say directly, ""I wonder how you could
302:275,24[P  ]| think of such a thing.  \I\ write to the Doctor, indeed!"""
302:275,25[A  ]| "Well,"
302:275,25['  ]| said Elinor,
302:275,25[A  ]| "it is a comfort to be prepared
302:275,26[A  ]| against the worst.  You have got your answer ready."
302:275,27['  ]| Miss*Steele was going to reply on the same subject,
302:275,28['  ]| but the approach of her own party made another more
302:275,29['  ]| necessary.
302:275,30[P  ]| "Oh, la! here come the Richardsons.  I had a vast
302:275,31[P  ]| deal more to say to you, but I must not stay away from
302:275,32[P  ]| them not any longer.  I assure you they are very genteel
302:275,33[P  ]| people.  He makes a monstrous deal of money, and
302:275,34[P  ]| they keep their own coach.  I have not time to speak to
302:275,35[P  ]| Mrs%*Jennings about it myself, but pray tell her I am
302:275,36[P  ]| quite happy to hear she is not in anger against us, and
302:275,37[P  ]| Lady*Middleton the same; and if any*thing should
302:275,38[P  ]| happen to take you and your sister away, and Mrs%*Jennings
302:276,01[P  ]| should want company, I am sure we should be
302:276,02[P  ]| very glad to come and stay with her for as long a time
302:276,03[P  ]| as she likes.  I suppose Lady*Middleton won't ask us
302:276,04[P  ]| any more this bout.  Good*bye; I am sorry Miss*Marianne
302:276,05[P  ]| was not here.  Remember me kindly to her.
302:276,06[P  ]| La! if you have not got your spotted muslin on! ~~ I
302:276,07[P  ]| wonder you was not afraid of its being torn."
302:276,08['  ]| Such was her parting concern; for after this, she had
302:276,09['  ]| time only to pay her farewell compliments to Mrs%*Jennings,
302:276,10['  ]| before her company was claimed by Mrs%*Richardson;
302:276,11['  ]| and Elinor was left in possession of knowledge
302:276,12['  ]| which might feed her powers of reflection some
302:276,13['  ]| time, though she had learnt very little more than what
302:276,14['  ]| had been already foreseen and foreplanned in her own
302:276,15['  ]| mind.  Edward's marriage with Lucy was as firmly
302:276,16['  ]| determined on, and the time of its taking place remained
302:276,17['  ]| as absolutely uncertain, as she had concluded it would
302:276,18['  ]| be; ~~ every*thing depended, exactly after her expectation,
302:276,19['  ]| on his getting that preferment, of which, at present,
302:276,20['  ]| there seemed not the smallest chance.
302:276,21['  ]| As soon as they returned to the carriage, Mrs%*Jennings
302:276,22['  ]| was eager for information; but as Elinor wished to
302:276,23['  ]| spread as little as possible intelligence that had in the
302:276,24['  ]| first place been so unfairly obtained, she confined herself
302:276,25['  ]| to the brief repetition of such simple particulars, as she
302:276,26['  ]| felt assured that Lucy, for the sake of her own consequence,
302:276,27['  ]| would chuse to have known.  The continuance
302:276,28['  ]| of their engagement, and the means that were to be taken
302:276,29['  ]| for promoting its end, was all her communication; and
302:276,30['  ]| this produced from Mrs%*Jennings the following natural
302:276,31['  ]| remark.
302:276,32[K  ]| "Wait for his having a living! ~~ aye, we all know
302:276,33[K  ]| how \that\ will end; ~~ they will wait a twelvemonth, and
302:276,34[K  ]| finding no good comes of it, will set down upon a curacy
302:276,35[K  ]| of fifty pounds a-year, with the interest of his two
302:276,36[K  ]| thousand pounds, and what little matter Mr%*Steele and
302:276,37[K  ]| Mr%*Pratt can give her. ~~ Then they will have a child
302:276,38[K  ]| every year! and Lord help 'em! how poor they will be!
302:277,01[K  ]| ~~ I must see what I can give them towards furnishing
302:277,02[K  ]| their house.  Two maids and two men indeed! ~~ as I
302:277,03[K  ]| talked of t'other day. ~~ No, no, they must get a stout
302:277,04[K  ]| girl of all works. ~~ Betty's sister would never do for
302:277,05[K  ]| them \now\."
302:277,06['  ]| The next morning brought Elinor a letter by the
302:277,07['  ]| two-penny post from Lucy herself.  It was as follows:
302:277,08['  ]|
302:277,09[Q  ]| \Bartlett's*Buildings\, \March\.
302:277,10[Q  ]| I hope my dear Miss*Dashwood will excuse the liberty
302:277,11[Q  ]| I take of writing to her; but I know your friendship for
302:277,12[Q  ]| me will make you pleased to hear such a good account
302:277,13[Q  ]| of myself and my dear Edward, after all the troubles
302:277,14[Q  ]| we have went through lately, therefore will make no
302:277,15[Q  ]| more apologies, but proceed to say that, thank God!
302:277,16[Q  ]| though we have suffered dreadfully, we are both quite
302:277,17[Q  ]| well now, and as happy as we must always be in one
302:277,18[Q  ]| another's love.  We have had great trials, and great
302:277,19[Q  ]| persecutions, but however, at the same time, gratefully
302:277,20[Q  ]| acknowledge many friends, yourself not the least among
302:277,21[Q  ]| them, whose great kindness I shall always thankfully
302:277,22[Q  ]| remember, as will Edward too, who I have told of it.
302:277,23[Q  ]| I am sure you will be glad to hear, as likewise dear Mrs%*Jennings,
302:277,24[Q  ]| I spent two happy hours with him yesterday
302:277,25[Q  ]| afternoon, he would not hear of our parting, though
302:277,26[Q  ]| earnestly did I, as I thought my duty required, urge him
302:277,27[Q  ]| to it for prudence sake, and would have parted for*ever
302:277,28[Q  ]| on the spot, would he consent to it; but he said it should
302:277,29[Q  ]| never be, he did not regard his mother's anger, while he
302:277,30[Q  ]| could have my affections; our prospects are not very
302:277,31[Q  ]| bright, to be sure, but we must wait, and hope for the
302:277,32[Q  ]| best; he will be ordained shortly, and should it ever be
302:277,33[Q  ]| in your power to recommend him to any*body that has
302:277,34[Q  ]| a living to bestow, am very sure you will not forget us,
302:277,35[Q  ]| and dear Mrs%*Jennings too, trust she will speak a good
302:277,36[Q  ]| word for us to Sir*John, or Mr%*Palmer, or any friend that
302:277,37[Q  ]| may be able to assist us. ~~ Poor Anne was much to blame
302:277,38[Q  ]| for what she did, but she did it for the best, so I say
302:278,01[Q  ]| nothing; hope Mrs%*Jennings won't think it too much
302:278,02[Q  ]| trouble to give us a call, should she come this way any
302:278,03[Q  ]| morning, 'twould be a great kindness, and my cousins
302:278,04[Q  ]| would be proud to know her. ~~ My paper reminds me to
302:278,05[Q  ]| conclude, and begging to be most gratefully and respectfully
302:278,06[Q  ]| remembered to her, and to Sir*John, and Lady*Middleton,
302:278,07[Q  ]| and the dear children, when you chance to
302:278,08[Q  ]| see them, and love to Miss*Marianne,
302:278,09[Q  ]| I am, &c% &c%
302:278,10[Q  ]|
302:278,11['  ]| As soon as Elinor had finished it, she performed what
302:278,12['  ]| she concluded to be its writer's real design, by placing it
302:278,13['  ]| in the hands of Mrs%*Jennings, who read it aloud with
302:278,14['  ]| many comments of satisfaction and praise.
302:278,15[K  ]| "Very well indeed! ~~ how prettily she writes! ~~ aye,
302:278,16[K  ]| that was quite proper to let him be off if he would.  That
302:278,17[K  ]| was just like Lucy. ~~ Poor soul!  I wish I \could\ get him a
302:278,18[K  ]| living with all my heart. ~~ She calls me dear Mrs%*Jennings,
302:278,19[K  ]| you see.  She is a good-hearted girl as ever lived. ~~ Very
302:278,20[K  ]| well upon my word.  That sentence is very prettily
302:278,21[K  ]| turned.  Yes, yes, I will go and see her, sure enough.
302:278,22[K  ]| How attentive she is, to think of every*body! ~~ Thank
302:278,23[K  ]| you, my dear, for shewing it me.  It is as pretty a letter
302:278,24[K  ]| as ever I saw, and does Lucy's head and heart great
302:278,25[K  ]| credit."
303:279,01['  ]| The Miss*Dashwoods had now been rather more than
303:279,02['  ]| two months in town, and Marianne's impatience to be
303:279,03['  ]| gone increased every day.  She sighed for the air, the
303:279,04['  ]| liberty, the quiet of the country; and fancied that if any
303:279,05['  ]| place could give her ease, Barton must do it.  Elinor was
303:279,06['  ]| hardly less anxious than herself for their removal, and
303:279,07['  ]| only so much less bent on its being effected immediately,
303:279,08['  ]| as that she was conscious of the difficulties of so long
303:279,09['  ]| a journey, which Marianne could not be brought to
303:279,10['  ]| acknowledge.  She began, however, seriously to turn her
303:279,11['  ]| thoughts towards its accomplishment, and had already
303:279,12['  ]| mentioned their wishes to their kind hostess, who resisted
303:279,13['  ]| them with all the eloquence of her good-will, when a plan
303:279,14['  ]| was suggested, which, though detaining them from home
303:279,15['  ]| yet a few weeks longer, appeared to Elinor altogether
303:279,16['  ]| much more eligible than any other.  The Palmers were
303:279,17['  ]| to remove to Cleveland about the end of March, for the
303:279,18['  ]| Easter holidays; and Mrs%*Jennings, with both her
303:279,19['  ]| friends, received a very warm invitation from Charlotte
303:279,20['  ]| to go with them.  This would not, in itself, have been
303:279,21['  ]| sufficient for the delicacy of Miss*Dashwood; ~~ but it
303:279,22['  ]| was inforced with so much real politeness by Mr%*Palmer
303:279,23['  ]| himself, as, joined to the very great amendment of
303:279,24['  ]| his manners towards them since her sister had been
303:279,25['  ]| known to be unhappy, induced her to accept it with
303:279,26['  ]| pleasure.
303:279,27['  ]| When she told Marianne what she had done, however,
303:279,28['  ]| her first reply was not very auspicious.
303:279,29[C  ]| "Cleveland!" ~~
303:279,29['  ]| she cried, with great agitation.
303:279,29[C  ]| "No,
303:279,30[C  ]| I cannot go to Cleveland." ~~
303:279,31[A  ]| "You forget,"
303:279,31['  ]| said Elinor, gently,
303:279,31[A  ]| "that its situation
303:279,32[A  ]| is not ~~ that it is not in the neighbourhood of ~~"
303:279,33[C  ]| "But it is in Somersetshire. ~~ I cannot go into Somersetshire. ~~
303:280,01[C  ]| There, where I looked forward to going ~~
303:280,02[C  ]| No, Elinor, you cannot expect me to go there."
303:280,03['  ]| Elinor would not argue upon the propriety of overcoming
303:280,04['  ]| such feelings; ~~ she only endeavoured to counteract
303:280,05['  ]| them by working on others; ~~ and represented it,
303:280,06['  ]| therefore, as a measure which would fix the time of
303:280,07['  ]| her returning to that dear mother, whom she so much
303:280,08['  ]| wished to see, in a more eligible, more comfortable
303:280,09['  ]| manner, than any other plan could do, and perhaps
303:280,10['  ]| without any greater delay.  From Cleveland, which was
303:280,11['  ]| within a few miles of Bristol, the distance to Barton was
303:280,12['  ]| not beyond one day, though a long day's journey; and
303:280,13['  ]| their mother's servant might easily come there to attend
303:280,14['  ]| them down; and as there could be no occasion for their
303:280,15['  ]| staying above a week at Cleveland, they might now
303:280,16['  ]| be at home in little more than three weeks' time.  As
303:280,17['  ]| Marianne's affection for her mother was sincere, it must
303:280,18['  ]| triumph, with little difficulty, over the imaginary evil
303:280,19['  ]| she had started.
303:280,20['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings was so far from being weary of her
303:280,21['  ]| guests, that she pressed them very earnestly to return
303:280,22['  ]| with her again from Cleveland.  Elinor was grateful for
303:280,23['  ]| the attention, but it could not alter their design; and
303:280,24['  ]| their mother's concurrence being readily gained, every*thing
303:280,25['  ]| relative to their return was arranged as far as it
303:280,26['  ]| could be; ~~ and Marianne found some relief in drawing
303:280,27['  ]| up a statement of the hours, that were yet to divide her
303:280,28['  ]| from Barton.
303:280,29[K  ]| "Ah! Colonel, I do not know what you and I shall
303:280,30[K  ]| do without the Miss*Dashwoods;" ~~
303:280,30['  ]| was Mrs%*Jennings's
303:280,31['  ]| address to him when he first called on her, after their
303:280,32['  ]| leaving her was settled ~~
303:280,32[K  ]| "for they are quite resolved
303:280,33[K  ]| upon going home from the Palmers; ~~ and how forlorn
303:280,34[K  ]| we shall be, when I come back! ~~ Lord! we shall sit and
303:280,35[K  ]| gape at one another as dull as two cats."
303:280,36['  ]| Perhaps Mrs%*Jennings was in hopes, by this vigorous
303:280,37['  ]| sketch of their future ennui, to provoke him to make
303:280,38['  ]| that offer, which might give himself an escape from it; ~~
303:281,01['  ]| and if so, she had soon afterwards good reason to think
303:281,02['  ]| her object gained; for, on Elinor's moving to the window
303:281,03['  ]| to take more expeditiously the dimensions of a print,
303:281,04['  ]| which she was going to copy for her friend, he followed
303:281,05['  ]| her to it with a look of particular meaning, and conversed
303:281,06['  ]| with her there for several minutes.  The effect of his
303:281,07['  ]| discourse on the lady too, could not escape her observation,
303:281,08['  ]| for though she was too honourable to listen, and
303:281,09['  ]| had even changed her seat, on purpose that she might
303:281,10['  ]| \not\ hear, to one close by the piano*forte= on which
303:281,11['  ]| Marianne was playing, she could not keep herself from
303:281,12['  ]| seeing that Elinor changed colour, attended with agitation,
303:281,13['  ]| and was too intent on what he said, to pursue her
303:281,14['  ]| employment.  Still farther in confirmation of her hopes,
303:281,15['  ]| in the interval of Marianne's turning from one lesson to
303:281,16['  ]| another, some words of the Colonel's inevitably reached
303:281,17['  ]| her ear, in which he seemed to be apologizing for the
303:281,18['  ]| badness of his house.
303:281,18@k   | This set the matter beyond a doubt.
303:281,19['  ]| She wondered indeed at his thinking it necessary to do
303:281,20['  ]| so; ~~ but supposed it to be the proper etiquette.  What
303:281,21['  ]| Elinor said in reply she could not distinguish, but judged
303:281,22['  ]| from the motion of her lips that she did not think \that\
303:281,23['  ]| any material objection; ~~ and Mrs%*Jennings commended
303:281,24['  ]| her in her heart for being so honest.  They then talked
303:281,25['  ]| on for a few minutes longer without her catching a
303:281,26['  ]| syllable, when another lucky stop in Marianne's performance
303:281,27['  ]| brought her these words in the Colonel's calm
303:281,28['  ]| voice,
303:281,29[H  ]| "I am afraid it cannot take place very soon."
303:281,30['  ]| Astonished and shocked at so unlover-like a speech,
303:281,31['  ]| she was almost ready to cry out,
303:281,31@k   | "Lord! what should
303:281,32[K  ]| hinder it?" ~~
303:281,32['  ]| but checking her desire, confined herself
303:281,33['  ]| to this silent ejaculation.
303:281,34@k   | "This is very strange! ~~ sure he need not wait to be
303:281,35@k   | older." ~~
303:281,36['  ]| This delay on the Colonel's side, however, did not seem
303:281,37['  ]| to offend or mortify his fair companion in the least, for
303:281,38['  ]| on their breaking up the conference soon afterwards,
303:282,01['  ]| and moving different ways, Mrs%*Jennings very plainly
303:282,02['  ]| heard Elinor say, and with a voice which shewed her to
303:282,03['  ]| feel what she said,
303:282,04[A  ]| "I shall always think myself very much obliged to
303:282,05[A  ]| you."
303:282,06['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings was delighted with her gratitude, and
303:282,07['  ]| only wondered, that after hearing such a sentence, the
303:282,08['  ]| Colonel should be able to take leave of them, as he
303:282,09['  ]| immediately did, with the utmost sang-froid, and go
303:282,10['  ]| away without making her any reply! ~~ She had not
303:282,11['  ]| thought her old friend could have made so indifferent a
303:282,12['  ]| suitor.
303:282,13['  ]| What had really passed between them was to this
303:282,14['  ]| effect.
303:282,15[H  ]| "I have heard,"
303:282,15['  ]| said he, with great compassion,
303:282,15[H  ]| "of
303:282,16[H  ]| the injustice your friend Mr%*Ferrars has suffered from
303:282,17[H  ]| his family; for if I understand the matter right, he has
303:282,18[H  ]| been entirely cast off by them for persevering in his
303:282,19[H  ]| engagement with a very deserving young woman ~~
303:282,20[H  ]| Have I been rightly informed? ~~ Is it so?" ~~
303:282,21['  ]| Elinor told him that it was.
303:282,22[H  ]| "The cruelty, the impolitic cruelty," ~~
303:282,22['  ]| he replied, with
303:282,23['  ]| great feeling ~~
303:282,23[H  ]| "of dividing, or attempting to divide,
303:282,24[H  ]| two young people long attached to each other, is terrible
303:282,25[H  ]| ~~ Mrs%*Ferrars does not know what she may be doing ~~
303:282,26[H  ]| what she may drive her son to.  I have seen Mr%*Ferrars
303:282,27[H  ]| two or three times in Harley-street, and am much pleased
303:282,28[H  ]| with him.  He is not a young man with whom one can
303:282,29[H  ]| be intimately acquainted in a short time, but I have
303:282,30[H  ]| seen enough of him to wish him well for his own sake,
303:282,31[H  ]| and as a friend of yours, I wish it still more.  I understand
303:282,32[H  ]| that he intends to take orders.  Will you be so
303:282,33[H  ]| good as to tell him that the living of Delaford, now just
303:282,34[H  ]| vacant, as I am informed by this day's post, is his, if he
303:282,35[H  ]| think it worth his acceptance ~~ but \that\, perhaps, so
303:282,36[H  ]| unfortunately circumstanced as he is now, it may be
303:282,37[H  ]| nonsense to appear to doubt; I only wish it were more
303:282,38[H  ]| valuable. ~~ It is a rectory, but a small one; the late
303:283,01[H  ]| incumbent, I believe, did not make more than 200\l%\ per*annum,
303:283,02[H  ]| and though it is certainly capable of improvement,
303:283,03[H  ]| I fear, not to such an amount as to afford him
303:283,04[H  ]| a very comfortable income.  Such as it is, however, my
303:283,05[H  ]| pleasure in presenting him to it, will be very great.
303:283,06[H  ]| Pray assure him of it."
303:283,07['  ]| Elinor's astonishment at this commission could hardly
303:283,08['  ]| have been greater, had the Colonel been really making
303:283,09['  ]| her an offer of his hand.  The preferment, which only two
303:283,10['  ]| days before she had considered as hopeless for Edward,
303:283,11['  ]| was already provided to enable him to marry; ~~
303:283,11@a   | and
303:283,12@a   | \she\, of all people in the world, was fixed on to bestow
303:283,13@a   | it! ~~
303:283,13['  ]| Her emotion was such as Mrs%*Jennings had attributed
303:283,14['  ]| to a very different cause; ~~ but whatever minor
303:283,15['  ]| feelings less pure, less pleasing, might have a share in
303:283,16['  ]| that emotion, her esteem for the general benevolence,
303:283,17['  ]| and her gratitude for the particular friendship, which
303:283,18['  ]| together prompted Colonel*Brandon to this act, were
303:283,19['  ]| strongly felt, and warmly expressed.  She thanked him
303:283,20['  ]| for it with all her heart, spoke of Edward's principles
303:283,21['  ]| and disposition with that praise which she knew them
303:283,22['  ]| to deserve; and promised to undertake the commission
303:283,23['  ]| with pleasure, if it were really his wish to put off so
303:283,24['  ]| agreeable an office to another.  But at the same time,
303:283,25['  ]| she could not help thinking that no*one could so well
303:283,26['  ]| perform it as himself.  It was an office in short, from
303:283,27['  ]| which, unwilling to give Edward the pain of receiving
303:283,28['  ]| an obligation from \her\, she would have been very glad
303:283,29['  ]| to be spared herself; ~~ but Colonel*Brandon, on motives
303:283,30['  ]| of equal delicacy, declining it likewise, still seemed so
303:283,31['  ]| desirous of its being given through her means, that she
303:283,32['  ]| would not on any account make farther opposition.
303:283,33['  ]| Edward, she believed, was still in town, and fortunately
303:283,34['  ]| she had heard his address from Miss*Steele.  She could
303:283,35['  ]| undertake therefore to inform him of it, in the course of
303:283,36['  ]| the day.  After this had been settled, Colonel*Brandon
303:283,37['  ]| began to talk of his own advantage in securing so
303:283,38['  ]| respectable and agreeable a neighbour, and \then\ it was
303:284,01['  ]| that he mentioned with regret, that the house was small
303:284,02['  ]| and indifferent; ~~ an evil which Elinor, as Mrs%*Jennings
303:284,03['  ]| had supposed her to do, made very light of, at least as
303:284,04['  ]| far as regarded its size.
303:284,05[A  ]| "The smallness of the house,"
303:284,05['  ]| said she,
303:284,05[A  ]| "I cannot
303:284,06[A  ]| imagine any inconvenience to them, for it will be in
303:284,07[A  ]| proportion to their family and income."
303:284,08['  ]| By which the Colonel was surprised to find that \she\
303:284,09['  ]| was considering Mr%*Ferrars's marriage as the certain
303:284,10['  ]| consequence of the presentation; for he did not suppose
303:284,11['  ]| it possible that Delaford living could supply such an
303:284,12['  ]| income, as any*body in his style of life would venture to
303:284,13['  ]| settle on ~~ and he said so.
303:284,14[H  ]| "This little rectory \can\ do no more than make Mr%*Ferrars
303:284,15[H  ]| comfortable as a bachelor; it cannot enable him
303:284,16[H  ]| to marry.  I am sorry to say that my patronage ends
303:284,17[H  ]| with this; and my interest is hardly more extensive.
303:284,18[H  ]| If, however, by any unforeseen chance it should be in
303:284,19[H  ]| my power to serve him farther, I must think very
303:284,20[H  ]| differently of him from what I now do, if I am not as
303:284,21[H  ]| ready to be useful to him then, as I sincerely wish I
303:284,22[H  ]| could be at present.  What I am now doing indeed,
303:284,23[H  ]| seems nothing at all, since it can advance him so little
303:284,24[H  ]| towards what must be his principal, his only object of
303:284,25[H  ]| happiness.  His marriage must still be a distant good; ~~
303:284,26[H  ]| at least, I am afraid it cannot take place very soon. ~~"
303:284,27['  ]| Such was the sentence which, when misunderstood,
303:284,28['  ]| so justly offended the delicate feelings of Mrs%*Jennings;
303:284,29['  ]| but after this narration of what really passed between
303:284,30['  ]| Colonel*Brandon and Elinor, while they stood at the
303:284,31['  ]| window, the gratitude expressed by the latter on their
303:284,32['  ]| parting, may perhaps appear in general, not less
303:284,33['  ]| reasonably excited, nor less properly worded than if it
303:284,34['  ]| had arisen from an offer of marriage.
304:285,01[K  ]| "Well, Miss*Dashwood,"
304:285,01['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings, sagaciously
304:285,02['  ]| smiling, as soon as the gentleman had withdrawn,
304:285,03[K  ]| "I do not ask you what the Colonel has been saying
304:285,04[K  ]| to you; for though, upon my honour, I \tried\ to keep out
304:285,05[K  ]| of hearing, I could not help catching enough to understand
304:285,06[K  ]| his business.  And I assure you I never was better
304:285,07[K  ]| pleased in my life, and I wish you joy of it with all my
304:285,08[K  ]| heart."
304:285,09[A  ]| "Thank you, ma'am,"
304:285,09['  ]| said Elinor.
304:285,09[A  ]| "It \is\ a matter
304:285,10[A  ]| of great joy to me; and I feel the goodness of Colonel*Brandon
304:285,11[A  ]| most sensibly.  There are not many men who
304:285,12[A  ]| would act as he has done.  Few people who have so compassionate
304:285,13[A  ]| an heart!  I never was more astonished in my
304:285,14[A  ]| life."
304:285,15[K  ]| "Lord! my dear, you are very modest!  I an't the
304:285,16[K  ]| least astonished at it in the world, for I have often
304:285,17[K  ]| thought of late, there was nothing more likely to
304:285,18[K  ]| happen."
304:285,19[A  ]| "You judged from your knowledge of the Colonel's
304:285,20[A  ]| general benevolence; but at least you could not foresee
304:285,21[A  ]| that the opportunity would so very soon occur."
304:285,22[K  ]| "Opportunity!"
304:285,22['  ]| repeated Mrs%*Jennings ~~
304:285,22[K  ]| "Oh! as
304:285,23[K  ]| to that, when a man has once made up his mind to
304:285,24[K  ]| such a thing, somehow or other he will soon find an
304:285,25[K  ]| opportunity.  Well, my dear, I wish you joy of it again
304:285,26[K  ]| and again; and if ever there was a happy couple in the
304:285,27[K  ]| world, I think I shall soon know where to look for
304:285,28[K  ]| them."
304:285,29[A  ]| "You mean to go to Delaford after them I suppose,"
304:285,30['  ]| said Elinor, with a faint smile.
304:285,31[K  ]| "Aye, my dear, that I do, indeed.  And as to the
304:285,32[K  ]| house being a bad one, I do not know what the Colonel
304:285,33[K  ]| would be at, for it is a good a one as ever I saw."
304:286,01[A  ]| "He spoke of its being out of repair."
304:286,02[K  ]| "Well, and whose fault is that?  why don't he
304:286,03[K  ]| repair it? ~~ who should do it but himself?"
304:286,04['  ]| They were interrupted by the servant's coming in
304:286,05['  ]| to announce the carriage being at the door; and Mrs%*Jennings
304:286,06['  ]| immediately preparing to go, said ~~
304:286,07[K  ]| "Well, my dear, I must be gone before I have had
304:286,08[K  ]| half my talk out.  But, however, we may have it all
304:286,09[K  ]| over in the evening, for we shall be quite alone.  I do
304:286,10[K  ]| not ask you to go with me, for I dare say your mind is
304:286,11[K  ]| too full of the matter to care for company; and besides,
304:286,12[K  ]| you must long to tell your sister all about it."
304:286,13['  ]| Marianne had left the room before the conversation
304:286,14['  ]| began.
304:286,15[A  ]| "Certainly, ma'am, I shall tell Marianne of it; but
304:286,16[A  ]| I shall not mention it at present to any*body else."
304:286,17[K  ]| "Oh! very well,"
304:286,17['  ]| said Mrs%*Jennings rather disappointed.
304:286,18[K  ]| "Then you would not have me tell it Lucy,
304:286,19[K  ]| for I think of going as far as Holborn to-day."
304:286,20[A  ]| "No, ma'am, not even Lucy if you please.  One day's
304:286,21[A  ]| delay will not be very material; and till I have written
304:286,22[A  ]| to Mr%*Ferrars, I think it ought not to be mentioned to
304:286,23[A  ]| any*body else.  I shall do \that\ directly.  It is of importance
304:286,24[A  ]| that no time should be lost with him, for he will
304:286,25[A  ]| of course have much to do relative to his ordination."
304:286,26['  ]| This speech at first puzzled Mrs%*Jennings exceedingly.
304:286,27['  ]| Why Mr%*Ferrars was to be written to about it in such
304:286,28['  ]| a hurry, she could not immediately comprehend.  A few
304:286,29['  ]| moments' reflection, however, produced a very happy
304:286,30['  ]| idea, and she exclaimed; ~~
304:286,31[K  ]| "Oh ho! ~~ I understand you.  Mr%*Ferrars is to be
304:286,32[K  ]| the man.  Well, so much the better for him.  Aye, to be
304:286,33[K  ]| sure, he must be ordained in readiness; and I am very
304:286,34[K  ]| glad to find things are so forward between you.  But, my
304:286,35[K  ]| dear, is not this rather out of character?  Should not
304:286,36[K  ]| the Colonel write himself? ~~ sure, he is the proper
304:286,37[K  ]| person."
304:286,38['  ]| Elinor did not quite understand the beginning of Mrs%*Jennings's
304:287,01['  ]| speech; neither did she think it worth
304:287,02['  ]| inquiring into; and therefore only replied to its conclusion.
304:287,03['  ]|
304:287,04[A  ]| "Colonel*Brandon is so delicate a man, that he rather
304:287,05[A  ]| wished any*one to announce his intentions to Mr%*Ferrars
304:287,06[A  ]| than himself."
304:287,07[K  ]| "And so \you\ are forced to do it.  Well, \that\ is an odd
304:287,08[K  ]| kind of delicacy!  However, I will not disturb you
304:287,08['  ]| (seeing
304:287,09['  ]| her preparing to write.)
304:287,09[K  ]| You know your own concerns
304:287,10[K  ]| best.  So good*bye, my dear.  I have not heard of any*thing
304:287,11[K  ]| to please me so well since Charlotte was brought
304:287,12[K  ]| to bed."
304:287,13['  ]| And away she went; but returning again in a moment,
304:287,14[K  ]| "I have just been thinking of Betty's sister, my dear.
304:287,15[K  ]| I should be very glad to get her so good a mistress.  But
304:287,16[K  ]| whether she would do for a lady's maid, I am sure I can't
304:287,17[K  ]| tell.  She is an excellent housemaid, and works very
304:287,18[K  ]| well at her needle.  However, you will think of all that at
304:287,19[K  ]| your leisure."
304:287,20[A  ]| "Certainly, ma'am,"
304:287,20['  ]| replied Elinor, not hearing
304:287,21['  ]| much of what she said, and more anxious to be alone,
304:287,22['  ]| than to be mistress of the subject.
304:287,23@a   | How she should begin ~~ how she should express herself
304:287,24@a   | in her note to Edward, was now all her concern.  The
304:287,25@a   | particular circumstances between them made a difficulty
304:287,26@a   | of that which to any other person would have been the
304:287,27@a   | easiest thing in the world;
304:287,27['  ]| but she equally feared to say
304:287,28['  ]| too much or too little, and sat deliberating over her
304:287,29['  ]| paper, with the pen in her hand, till broken in on by the
304:287,30['  ]| entrance of Edward himself.
304:287,31['  ]| He had met Mrs%*Jennings at the door in her way to
304:287,32['  ]| the carriage, as he came to leave his farewell card; and
304:287,33['  ]| she, after apologising for not returning herself, had
304:287,34['  ]| obliged him to enter, by saying that Miss*Dashwood was
304:287,35['  ]| above, and wanted to speak with him on very particular
304:287,36['  ]| business.
304:287,37['  ]| Elinor had just been congratulating herself, in the
304:287,38['  ]| midst of her perplexity, that
304:287,38@a   | however difficult it might
304:288,01@a   | be to express herself properly by letter, it was at least
304:288,02@a   | preferable to giving the information by word of mouth,
304:288,03['  ]| when her visitor entered, to force her upon this greatest
304:288,04['  ]| exertion of all.  Her astonishment and confusion were
304:288,05['  ]| very great on his so sudden appearance.  She had not
304:288,06['  ]| seen him before since his engagement became public,
304:288,07['  ]| and therefore not since his knowing her to be acquainted
304:288,08['  ]| with it; which, with the consciousness of what she had
304:288,09['  ]| been thinking of, and what she had to tell him, made her
304:288,10['  ]| feel particularly uncomfortable for some minutes.  He
304:288,11['  ]| too was much distressed, and they sat down together
304:288,12['  ]| in a most promising state of embarrassment. ~~ Whether
304:288,13['  ]| he had asked her pardon for his intrusion on first coming
304:288,14['  ]| into the room, he could not recollect; but determining
304:288,15['  ]| to be on the safe side, he made his apology in form as
304:288,16['  ]| soon as he could say any*thing, after taking a chair.
304:288,17[B  ]| "Mrs%*Jennings told me,"
304:288,17['  ]| said he,
304:288,17[B  ]| "that you wished
304:288,18[B  ]| to speak to me, at least I understood her so ~~ or I
304:288,19[B  ]| certainly should not have intruded on you in such
304:288,20[B  ]| a manner; though at the same time, I should have been
304:288,21[B  ]| extremely sorry to leave London without seeing you and
304:288,22[B  ]| your sister; especially as it will most likely be some
304:288,23[B  ]| time ~~ it is not probable that I should soon have the
304:288,24[B  ]| pleasure of meeting you again.  I go to Oxford to-morrow."
304:288,25[B  ]|
304:288,26[A  ]| "You would not have gone, however,"
304:288,26['  ]| said Elinor,
304:288,27['  ]| recovering herself, and determined to get over what she
304:288,28['  ]| so much dreaded as soon as possible,
304:288,28[A  ]| "without receiving
304:288,29[A  ]| our good wishes, even if we had not been able to give
304:288,30[A  ]| them in person.  Mrs%*Jennings was quite right in what
304:288,31[A  ]| she said.  I have something of consequence to inform you
304:288,32[A  ]| of, which I was on the point of communicating by paper.
304:288,33[A  ]| I am charged with a most agreeable office,
304:288,33['  ]| (breathing
304:288,34['  ]| rather faster than usual as she spoke.)
304:288,34[A  ]| Colonel*Brandon,
304:288,35[A  ]| who was here only ten minutes ago, has desired me to
304:288,36[A  ]| say that, understanding you mean to take orders, he
304:288,37[A  ]| has great pleasure in offering you the living of Delaford,
304:288,38[A  ]| now just vacant, and only wishes it were more valuable.
304:289,01[A  ]| Allow me to congratulate you on having so respectable
304:289,02[A  ]| and well-judging a friend, and to join in his wish that
304:289,03[A  ]| the living ~~ it is about two hundred a-year ~~ were much
304:289,04[A  ]| more considerable, and such as might better enable you
304:289,05[A  ]| to ~~ as might be more than a temporary accommodation
304:289,06[A  ]| to yourself ~~ such, in short, as might establish all your
304:289,07[A  ]| views of happiness."
304:289,08['  ]| What Edward felt, as he could not say it himself, it
304:289,09['  ]| cannot be expected that any*one else should say for him.
304:289,10['  ]| He \looked\ all the astonishment which such unexpected,
304:289,11['  ]| such unthought-of information could not fail of exciting;
304:289,12['  ]| but he said only these two words,
304:289,13[B  ]| "Colonel*Brandon!"
304:289,14[A  ]| "Yes,"
304:289,14['  ]| continued Elinor, gathering more resolution,
304:289,15['  ]| as some of the worst was over;
304:289,15[A  ]| "Colonel*Brandon
304:289,16[A  ]| means it as a testimony of his concern for what has lately
304:289,17[A  ]| passed ~~ for the cruel situation in which the unjustifiable
304:289,18[A  ]| conduct of your family has placed you ~~ a concern which
304:289,19[A  ]| I am sure Marianne, myself, and all your friends must
304:289,20[A  ]| share; and likewise as a proof of his high esteem for
304:289,21[A  ]| your general character, and his particular approbation
304:289,22[A  ]| of your behaviour on the present occasion."
304:289,23[B  ]| "Colonel*Brandon give \me\ a living! ~~ Can it be
304:289,24[B  ]| possible?"
304:289,25[A  ]| "The unkindness of your own relations has made you
304:289,26[A  ]| astonished to find friendship any*where."
304:289,27[B  ]| "No,"
304:289,27['  ]| replied he, with sudden consciousness,
304:289,27[B  ]| "not
304:289,28[B  ]| to find it in \you\; for I cannot be ignorant that to you,
304:289,29[B  ]| to your goodness I owe it all ~~ I feel it ~~ I would express
304:289,30[B  ]| it if I could ~~ but, as you well know, I am no orator."
304:289,31[A  ]| "You are very much mistaken.  I do assure you that
304:289,32[A  ]| you owe it entirely, at least almost entirely, to your own
304:289,33[A  ]| merit, and Colonel*Brandon's discernment of it.  I have
304:289,34[A  ]| had no hand in it.  I did not even know, till I understood
304:289,35[A  ]| his design, that the living was vacant; nor had
304:289,36[A  ]| it ever occurred to me that he might have had such a
304:289,37[A  ]| living in his gift.  As a friend of mine, of my family, he
304:289,38[A  ]| may perhaps ~~ indeed I know he \has\, still greater pleasure
304:290,01[A  ]| in bestowing it; but, upon my word, you owe nothing
304:290,02[A  ]| to my solicitation."
304:290,03['  ]| Truth obliged her to acknowledge some small share
304:290,04['  ]| in the action, but she was at the same time so unwilling
304:290,05['  ]| to appear as the benefactress of Edward, that she
304:290,06['  ]| acknowledged it with hesitation; which probably contributed
304:290,07['  ]| to fix that suspicion in his mind which had
304:290,08['  ]| recently entered it.  For a short time he sat deep in
304:290,09['  ]| thought, after Elinor had ceased to speak; ~~ at last, and
304:290,10['  ]| as if it were rather an effort, he said,
304:290,11[B  ]| "Colonel*Brandon seems a man of great worth and
304:290,12[B  ]| respectability.  I have always heard him spoken of as
304:290,13[B  ]| such, and your brother I know esteems him highly.
304:290,14[B  ]| He is undoubtedly a sensible man, and in his manners
304:290,15[B  ]| perfectly the gentleman."
304:290,16[A  ]| "Indeed,"
304:290,16['  ]| replied Elinor,
304:290,16[A  ]| "I believe that you will
304:290,17[A  ]| find him, on farther acquaintance, all that you have heard
304:290,18[A  ]| him to be; and as you will be such very near neighbours,
304:290,19[A  ]| (for I understand the parsonage is almost close to the
304:290,20[A  ]| mansion-house,) it is particularly important that he
304:290,21[A  ]| \should\ be all this."
304:290,22['  ]| Edward made no answer; but when she had turned
304:290,23['  ]| away her head, gave her a look so serious, so earnest, so
304:290,24['  ]| uncheerful, as seemed to say, that he might hereafter
304:290,25['  ]| wish the distance between the parsonage and the mansion-house
304:290,26['  ]| much greater.
304:290,27[B  ]| "Colonel*Brandon, I think, lodges in St%*James's-street,"
304:290,28['  ]| said he, soon afterwards, rising from his chair.
304:290,29['  ]| Elinor told him the number of the house.
304:290,30[B  ]| "I must hurry away then, to give him those thanks
304:290,31[B  ]| which you will not allow me to give \you\; to assure him
304:290,32[B  ]| that he has made me a very ~~ an exceedingly happy man."
304:290,33['  ]| Elinor did not offer to detain him; and they parted,
304:290,34['  ]| with a very earnest assurance on \her\ side of her unceasing
304:290,35['  ]| good wishes for his happiness in every change of situation
304:290,36['  ]| that might befal him; on \his\, with rather an attempt
304:290,37['  ]| to return the same good*will, than the power of expressing
304:290,38['  ]| it.
304:291,01[A  ]| "When I see him again,"
304:291,01['  ]| said Elinor to herself, as the
304:291,02['  ]| door shut him out,
304:291,02[A  ]| "I shall see him the husband of Lucy."
304:291,03['  ]| And with this pleasing anticipation, she sat down to
304:291,04['  ]| re-consider the past, recal the words and endeavour to
304:291,05['  ]| comprehend all the feelings of Edward; and, of course,
304:291,06['  ]| to reflect on her own with discontent.
304:291,07['  ]| When Mrs%*Jennings came home, though she returned
304:291,08['  ]| from seeing people whom she had never seen before, and
304:291,09['  ]| of whom therefore she must have a great deal to say,
304:291,10['  ]| her mind was so much more occupied by the important
304:291,11['  ]| secret in her possession, than by anything else, that she
304:291,12['  ]| reverted to it again as soon as Elinor appeared.
304:291,13[K  ]| "Well, my dear,"
304:291,13['  ]| she cried,
304:291,13[K  ]| "I sent you up the young
304:291,14[K  ]| man.  Did not I do right? ~~ And I suppose you had no
304:291,15[K  ]| great difficulty ~~ You did not find him very unwilling to
304:291,16[K  ]| accept your proposal?"
304:291,17[A  ]| "No, ma'am; \that\ was not very likely."
304:291,18[K  ]| "Well, and how soon will he be ready? ~~ For it seems
304:291,19[K  ]| all to depend upon that."
304:291,20[A  ]| "Really,"
304:291,20['  ]| said Elinor,
304:291,20[A  ]| "I know so little of these kind
304:291,21[A  ]| of forms, that I can hardly even conjecture as to the
304:291,22[A  ]| time, or the preparation necessary; but I suppose two
304:291,23[A  ]| or three months will complete his ordination."
304:291,24[K  ]| "Two or three months!"
304:291,24['  ]| cried Mrs%*Jennings;
304:291,25[K  ]| "Lord! my dear, how calmly you talk of it; and can
304:291,26[K  ]| the Colonel wait two or three months!  Lord bless me! ~~
304:291,27[K  ]| I am sure it would put \me\ quite out of patience! ~~ And
304:291,28[K  ]| though one would be very glad to do a kindness by poor
304:291,29[K  ]| Mr%*Ferrars, I do think it is not worth*while to wait two
304:291,30[K  ]| or three months for him.  Sure, somebody else might
304:291,31[K  ]| be found that would do as well; somebody that is in
304:291,32[K  ]| orders already."
304:291,33[A  ]| "My dear ma'am,"
304:291,33['  ]| said Elinor,
304:291,33[A  ]| "what can you be
304:291,34[A  ]| thinking of? ~~ Why, Colonel*Brandon's only object is to
304:291,35[A  ]| be of use to Mr%*Ferrars."
304:291,36[K  ]| "Lord bless you, my dear! ~~ Sure you do not mean
304:291,37[K  ]| to persuade me that the Colonel only marries you for
304:291,38[K  ]| the sake of giving ten guineas to Mr%*Ferrars!"
304:292,01['  ]| The deception could not continue after this; and
304:292,02['  ]| an explanation immediately took place, by which both
304:292,03['  ]| gained considerable amusement for the moment, without
304:292,04['  ]| any material loss of happiness to either, for Mrs%*Jennings
304:292,05['  ]| only exchanged one form of delight for another, and still
304:292,06['  ]| without forfeiting her expectation of the first.
304:292,07[K  ]| "Aye, aye, the parsonage is but a small one,"
304:292,07['  ]| said
304:292,08['  ]| she, after the first ebullition of surprise and satisfaction
304:292,09['  ]| was over,
304:292,09[K  ]| "and very likely \may\ be out of repair; but
304:292,10[K  ]| to hear a man apologising, as I thought, for a house that
304:292,11[K  ]| to my knowledge has five sitting*rooms on the ground-floor,
304:292,12[K  ]| and I think the housekeeper told me, could make
304:292,13[K  ]| up fifteen beds! ~~ and to you too, that had been used to
304:292,14[K  ]| live in Barton*cottage! ~~ It seemed quite ridiculous.
304:292,15[K  ]| But, my dear, we must touch up the Colonel to do something
304:292,16[K  ]| to the parsonage, and make it comfortable for
304:292,17[K  ]| them, before Lucy goes to it."
304:292,18[A  ]| "But Colonel*Brandon does not seem to have any
304:292,19[A  ]| idea of the living's being enough to allow them to marry."
304:292,20[K  ]| "The Colonel is a ninny, my dear; because he has two
304:292,21[K  ]| thousand a-year himself, he thinks that nobody else can
304:292,22[K  ]| marry on less.  Take my word for it, that, if I am alive,
304:292,23[K  ]| I shall be paying a visit at Delaford*Parsonage before
304:292,24[K  ]| Michaelmas; and I am sure I sha'nt go if Lucy an't
304:292,25[K  ]| there."
304:292,26['  ]| Elinor was quite of her opinion, as to the probability
304:292,27['  ]| of their not waiting for any*thing more.
305:293,01['  ]| Edward, having carried his thanks to Colonel*Brandon,
305:293,02['  ]| proceeded with his happiness to Lucy; and such was the
305:293,03['  ]| excess of it by the time he reached Bartlett's*Buildings,
305:293,04['  ]| that she was able to assure Mrs%*Jennings, who called on
305:293,05['  ]| her again the next day with her congratulations, that
305:293,06@q   | she had never seen him in such spirits before in her
305:293,07@q   | life.
305:293,08['  ]| Her own happiness, and her own spirits, were at least
305:293,09['  ]| very certain; and she joined Mrs%*Jennings most
305:293,10['  ]| heartily in her expectation of their being all comfortably
305:293,11['  ]| together in Delaford*Parsonage before Michaelmas.  So
305:293,12['  ]| far was she, at the same time, from any backwardness
305:293,13['  ]| to give Elinor that credit which Edward \would\ give
305:293,14['  ]| her, that she spoke of her friendship for them both
305:293,15['  ]| with the most grateful warmth, was ready to own all
305:293,16['  ]| their obligation to her, and openly declared that
305:293,16@q   | no
305:293,17@q   | exertion for their good on Miss*Dashwood's part, either
305:293,18@q   | present or future, would ever surprise her, for she believed
305:293,19@q   | her capable of doing anything in the world for those she
305:293,20@q   | really valued.
305:293,20['  ]| As for Colonel*Brandon, she was not only
305:293,21['  ]| ready to worship him as a saint, but was moreover truly
305:293,22['  ]| anxious that he should be treated as one in all worldly
305:293,23['  ]| concerns; anxious that his tythes should be raised to the
305:293,24['  ]| utmost; and secretly resolved to avail herself, at Delaford,
305:293,25['  ]| as far as she possibly could, of his servants, his
305:293,26['  ]| carriage, his cows, and his poultry.
305:293,27['  ]| It was now above a week since John*Dashwood had
305:293,28['  ]| called in Berkeley-street, and as since that time no notice
305:293,29['  ]| had been taken by them of his wife's indisposition, beyond
305:293,30['  ]| one verbal inquiry, Elinor began to feel it necessary to
305:293,31['  ]| pay her a visit. ~~ This was an obligation, however, which
305:293,32['  ]| not only opposed her own inclination, but which had not
305:293,33['  ]| the assistance of any encouragement from her companions.
305:294,01['  ]| Marianne, not contented with absolutely
305:294,02['  ]| refusing to go herself, was very urgent to prevent her
305:294,03['  ]| sister's going at all; and Mrs%*Jennings, though her
305:294,04['  ]| carriage was always at Elinor's service, so very much
305:294,05['  ]| disliked Mrs%*John*Dashwood, that not even her curiosity
305:294,06['  ]| to see how she looked after the late discovery, nor her
305:294,07['  ]| strong desire to affront her by taking Edward's part,
305:294,08['  ]| could overcome her unwillingness to be in her company
305:294,09['  ]| again.  The consequence was, that Elinor set out by
305:294,10['  ]| herself to pay a visit, for which no*one could really have
305:294,11['  ]| less inclination, and to run the risk of a te^te-a`-te^te with
305:294,12['  ]| a woman, whom neither of the others had so much reason
305:294,13['  ]| to dislike.
305:294,14['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood was denied; but before the carriage
305:294,15['  ]| could turn from the house, her husband accidentally
305:294,16['  ]| came out.  He expressed great pleasure in meeting
305:294,17['  ]| Elinor, told her that he had been just going to call in
305:294,18['  ]| Berkeley-street, and assuring her that Fanny would
305:294,19['  ]| be very glad to see her, invited her to come in.
305:294,20['  ]| They walked up*stairs into the drawing-room. ~~ Nobody
305:294,21['  ]| was there.
305:294,22[F  ]| "Fanny is in her own room, I suppose,"
305:294,22['  ]| said he; ~~
305:294,23[F  ]| "I will go to her presently, for I am sure she will not have
305:294,24[F  ]| the least objection in the world to seeing \you\. ~~ Very
305:294,25[F  ]| far from it indeed.  \Now\ especially there cannot be ~~
305:294,26[F  ]| but however, you and Marianne were always great
305:294,27[F  ]| favourites. ~~ Why would not Marianne come?" ~~
305:294,28['  ]| Elinor made what excuse she could for her.
305:294,29[F  ]| "I am not sorry to see you alone,"
305:294,29['  ]| he replied,
305:294,30[F  ]| "for I have a good deal to say to you.  This living
305:294,31[F  ]| of Colonel*Brandon's ~~ can it be true? ~~ has he really
305:294,32[F  ]| given it to Edward? ~~ I heard it yesterday by chance,
305:294,33[F  ]| and was coming to you on purpose to inquire farther
305:294,34[F  ]| about it."
305:294,35[A  ]| "It is perfectly true. ~~ Colonel*Brandon has given
305:294,36[A  ]| the living of Delaford to Edward."
305:294,37[F  ]| "Really! ~~ Well, this is very astonishing! ~~ no relationship! ~~
305:294,38[F  ]| no connection between then! ~~ and now that
305:295,01[F  ]| livings fetch such a price! ~~ what was the value of
305:295,02[F  ]| this?"
305:295,03[A  ]| "About two hundred a-year."
305:295,04[F  ]| "Very well ~~ and for the next presentation to a living
305:295,05[F  ]| of that value ~~ supposing the late incumbent to have been
305:295,06[F  ]| old and sickly, and likely to vacate it soon ~~ he might
305:295,07[F  ]| have got I dare say ~~ fourteen hundred pounds.  And
305:295,08[F  ]| how came he not to have settled that matter before this
305:295,09[F  ]| person's death? ~~ \Now\ indeed it would be too late to
305:295,10[F  ]| sell it, but a man of Colonel*Brandon's sense! ~~ I wonder
305:295,11[F  ]| he should be so improvident in a point of such common,
305:295,12[F  ]| such natural, concern! ~~ Well, I am convinced that
305:295,13[F  ]| there is a vast deal of inconsistency in almost every
305:295,14[F  ]| human character.  I suppose, however ~~ on recollection
305:295,15[F  ]| ~~ that the case may probably be \this\.  Edward is only
305:295,16[F  ]| to hold the living till the person to whom the Colonel
305:295,17[F  ]| has really sold the presentation, is old enough to take
305:295,18[F  ]| it. ~~ Aye, aye, that is the fact, depend upon it."
305:295,19['  ]| Elinor contradicted it, however, very positively; and
305:295,20['  ]| by relating that she had herself been employed in conveying
305:295,21['  ]| the offer from Colonel*Brandon to Edward, and
305:295,22['  ]| therefore must understand the terms on which it was
305:295,23['  ]| given, obliged him to submit to her authority.
305:295,24[F  ]| "It is truly astonishing!" ~~
305:295,24['  ]| he cried, after hearing
305:295,25['  ]| what she said ~~
305:295,25[F  ]| "what could be the Colonel's motive?"
305:295,26[A  ]| "A very simple one ~~ to be of use to Mr%*Ferrars."
305:295,27[F  ]| "Well, well; whatever Colonel*Brandon may be,
305:295,28[F  ]| Edward is a very lucky man! ~~ You will not mention the
305:295,29[F  ]| matter to Fanny, however, for though I have broke it
305:295,30[F  ]| to her, and she bears it vastly well, ~~ she will not like to
305:295,31[F  ]| hear it much talked of."
305:295,32['  ]| Elinor had some difficulty here to refrain from observing,
305:295,33['  ]| that she thought Fanny might have borne
305:295,34['  ]| with composure, an acquisition of wealth to her brother,
305:295,35['  ]| by which neither she nor her child could be possibly
305:295,36['  ]| impoverished.
305:295,37[F  ]| "Mrs%*Ferrars,"
305:295,37['  ]| added he, lowering his voice to the
305:295,38['  ]| tone becoming so important a subject,
305:295,38[F  ]| "knows nothing
305:296,01[F  ]| about it at present, and I believe it will be best to keep
305:296,02[F  ]| it entirely concealed from her as long as may be. ~~ When
305:296,03[F  ]| the marriage takes place, I fear she must hear of it all."
305:296,04[A  ]| "But why should such precaution be used? ~~ Though
305:296,05[A  ]| it is not to be supposed that Mrs%*Ferrars can have the
305:296,06[A  ]| smallest satisfaction in knowing that her son has money
305:296,07[A  ]| enough to live upon, ~~ for \that\ must be quite out of the
305:296,08[A  ]| question; yet why, after her late behaviour, is she
305:296,09[A  ]| supposed to feel at all? ~~ she has done with her son, she
305:296,10[A  ]| has cast him off for*ever, and has made all those over
305:296,11[A  ]| whom she had any influence, cast him off likewise.
305:296,12[A  ]| Surely, after doing so, she cannot be imagined liable to
305:296,13[A  ]| any impression of sorrow or of joy on his account ~~
305:296,14[A  ]| she cannot be interested in any*thing that befalls him. ~~
305:296,15[A  ]| She would not be so weak as to throw away the comfort
305:296,16[A  ]| of a child, and yet retain the anxiety of a parent!"
305:296,17[F  ]| "Ah!  Elinor,"
305:296,17['  ]| said John,
305:296,17[F  ]| "your reasoning is very
305:296,18[F  ]| good, but it is founded on ignorance of human nature.
305:296,19[F  ]| When Edward's unhappy match takes place, depend
305:296,20[F  ]| upon it his mother will feel as much as if she had never
305:296,21[F  ]| discarded him; and therefore every circumstance that
305:296,22[F  ]| may accelerate that dreadful event, must be concealed
305:296,23[F  ]| from her as much as possible.  Mrs%*Ferrars can never
305:296,24[F  ]| forget that Edward is her son."
305:296,25[A  ]| "You surprise me; I should think it must nearly
305:296,26[A  ]| have escaped her memory by \this\ time."
305:296,27[F  ]| "You wrong her exceedingly.  Mrs%*Ferrars is one
305:296,28[F  ]| of the most affectionate mothers in the world."
305:296,29['  ]| Elinor was silent.
305:296,30[F  ]| "We think \now\" ~~
305:296,30['  ]| said Mr%*Dashwood, after a short
305:296,31['  ]| pause,
305:296,31[F  ]| "of \Robert's\ marrying Miss*Morton."
305:296,32['  ]| Elinor, smiling at the grave and decisive importance
305:296,33['  ]| of her brother's tone, calmly replied,
305:296,34[A  ]| "The lady, I suppose, has no choice in the affair."
305:296,35[F  ]| "Choice! ~~ how do you mean?" ~~
305:296,36[A  ]| "I only mean, that I suppose from your manner of
305:296,37[A  ]| speaking, it must be the same to Miss*Morton whether
305:296,38[A  ]| she marry Edward or Robert."
305:297,01[F  ]| "Certainly, there can be no difference; for Robert
305:297,02[F  ]| will now to all intents and purposes be considered as the
305:297,03[F  ]| eldest son; ~~ and as to any*thing else, they are both
305:297,04[F  ]| very agreeable young men, I do not know that one is
305:297,05[F  ]| superior to the other."
305:297,06['  ]| Elinor said no more, and John was also for a short
305:297,07['  ]| time silent. ~~ His reflections ended thus.
305:297,08[F  ]| "Of \one\ thing, my dear sister,"
305:297,08['  ]| kindly taking her hand,
305:297,09['  ]| and speaking in an awful whisper ~~
305:297,09[F  ]| "I may assure you; ~~
305:297,10[F  ]| and I \will\ do it, because I know it must gratify you.
305:297,11[F  ]| I have good reason to think ~~ indeed I have it from the
305:297,12[F  ]| best authority, or I should not repeat it, for otherwise it
305:297,13[F  ]| would be very wrong to say any*thing about it ~~ but
305:297,14[F  ]| I have it from the very best authority ~~ not that I ever
305:297,15[F  ]| precisely heard Mrs%*Ferrars say it herself ~~ but her
305:297,16[F  ]| daughter \did\, and I have it from her ~~ That in short,
305:297,17[F  ]| whatever objections there might be against a certain ~~
305:297,18[F  ]| a certain connection ~~ you understand me ~~ it would
305:297,19[F  ]| have been far preferable to her, it would not have given
305:297,20[F  ]| her half the vexation that \this\ does.  I was exceedingly
305:297,21[F  ]| pleased to hear that Mrs%*Ferrars considered it in that
305:297,22[F  ]| light ~~ a very gratifying circumstance you know to us
305:297,23[F  ]| all.
305:297,23@i   | ""It would have been beyond comparison,""
305:297,23[F  ]| she said,
305:297,24@i   | ""the least evil of the two, and she would be glad to
305:297,25@i   | compound \now\ for nothing worse.""
305:297,25[F  ]| But however, all
305:297,26[F  ]| that is quite out of the question ~~ not to be thought of
305:297,27[F  ]| or mentioned ~~ as to any attachment you know ~~ it
305:297,28[F  ]| never could be ~~ all that is gone by.  But I thought I
305:297,29[F  ]| would just tell you of this, because I knew how much
305:297,30[F  ]| it must please you.  Not that you have any reason to
305:297,31[F  ]| regret, my dear Elinor.  There is no doubt of your doing
305:297,32[F  ]| exceedingly well ~~ quite as well, or better, perhaps, all
305:297,33[F  ]| things considered.  Has Colonel*Brandon been with you
305:297,34[F  ]| lately?"
305:297,35['  ]| Elinor had heard enough, if not to gratify her vanity,
305:297,36['  ]| and raise her self-importance, to agitate her nerves and
305:297,37['  ]| fill her mind; ~~ and she was therefore glad to be spared
305:297,38['  ]| from the necessity of saying much in reply herself, and
305:298,01['  ]| from the danger of hearing any*thing more from her
305:298,02['  ]| brother, by the entrance of Mr%*Robert*Ferrars.  After
305:298,03['  ]| a few moments' chat, John*Dashwood, recollecting that
305:298,04['  ]| Fanny was yet uninformed of his sister's being there,
305:298,05['  ]| quitted the room in quest of her; and Elinor was left
305:298,06['  ]| to improve her acquaintance with Robert, who, by the
305:298,07['  ]| gay unconcern, the happy self-complacency of his
305:298,08['  ]| manner while enjoying so unfair a division of his mother's
305:298,09['  ]| love and liberality, to the prejudice of his banished
305:298,10['  ]| brother, earned only by his own dissipated course of
305:298,11['  ]| life, and that brother's integrity, was confirming her
305:298,12['  ]| most unfavourable opinion of his head and heart.
305:298,13['  ]| They had scarcely been two minutes by themselves,
305:298,14['  ]| before he began to speak of Edward; for he too had
305:298,15['  ]| heard of the living, and was very inquisitive on the
305:298,16['  ]| subject.  Elinor repeated the particulars of it, as she
305:298,17['  ]| had given them to John; and their effect on Robert
305:298,18['  ]| though very different, was not less striking than it had
305:298,19['  ]| been on \him\.  He laughed most immoderately.  The
305:298,20['  ]| idea of Edward's being a clergyman, and living in a small
305:298,21['  ]| parsonage-house, diverted him beyond measure; ~~ and
305:298,22['  ]| when to that was added the fanciful imagery of Edward
305:298,23['  ]| reading prayers in a white surplice, and publishing the
305:298,24['  ]| banns of marriage between John*Smith and Mary*Brown,
305:298,25['  ]| he could conceive nothing more ridiculous.
305:298,26['  ]| Elinor, while she waited in silence, and immovable
305:298,27['  ]| gravity, the conclusion of such folly, could not restrain
305:298,28['  ]| her eyes from being fixed on him with a look that spoke
305:298,29['  ]| all the contempt it excited.  It was a look, however,
305:298,30['  ]| very well bestowed, for it relieved her own feelings, and
305:298,31['  ]| gave no intelligence of him.  He was recalled from wit
305:298,32['  ]| to wisdom, not by any reproof of her's, but by his own
305:298,33['  ]| sensibility.
305:298,34[J  ]| "We may treat it as a joke,"
305:298,34['  ]| said he at last, recovering
305:298,35['  ]| from the affected laugh which had considerably lengthened
305:298,36['  ]| out the genuine gaiety of the moment ~~
305:298,36[J  ]| "but upon
305:298,37[J  ]| my soul, it is a most serious business.  Poor Edward! he
305:298,38[J  ]| is ruined for*ever.  I am extremely sorry for it ~~ for I
305:299,01[J  ]| know him to be a very good-hearted creature; as well-meaning
305:299,02[J  ]| a fellow perhaps, as any in the world.  You
305:299,03[J  ]| must not judge of him, Miss*Dashwood, from \your\
305:299,04[J  ]| slight acquaintance. ~~ Poor Edward! ~~ His manners are
305:299,05[J  ]| certainly not the happiest in nature. ~~ But we are not all
305:299,06[J  ]| born, you know, with the same powers ~~ the same address. ~~
305:299,07[J  ]| Poor fellow! ~~ to see him in a circle of strangers!
305:299,08[J  ]| ~~ to be sure it was pitiable enough! ~~ but, upon my
305:299,09[J  ]| soul, I believe he has as good a heart as any in the
305:299,10[J  ]| kingdom; and I declare and protest to you I never
305:299,11[J  ]| was so shocked in my life, as when it all burst forth.  I
305:299,12[J  ]| could not believe it. ~~ My mother was the first person
305:299,13[J  ]| who told me of it, and I, feeling myself called on to act
305:299,14[J  ]| with resolution, immediately said to her, ""My dear
305:299,15[J  ]| madam, I do not know what you may intend to do on
305:299,16[J  ]| the occasion, but as for myself, I must say, that if
305:299,17[J  ]| Edward does marry this young woman, \I\ never will see
305:299,18[J  ]| him again.""  That was what I said immediately, ~~ I was
305:299,19[J  ]| most uncommonly shocked indeed! ~~ Poor Edward! ~~
305:299,20[J  ]| he has done for himself completely ~~ shut himself out
305:299,21[J  ]| for*ever from all decent society! ~~ but, as I directly
305:299,22[J  ]| said to my mother, I am not in the least surprised at it;
305:299,23[J  ]| from his style of education it was always to be expected.
305:299,24[J  ]| My poor mother was half frantic."
305:299,25[A  ]| "Have you ever seen the lady?"
305:299,26[J  ]| "Yes; once, while she was staying in this house,
305:299,27[J  ]| I happened to drop in for ten minutes; and I saw quite
305:299,28[J  ]| enough of her.  The merest awkward country girl,
305:299,29[J  ]| without style, or elegance, and almost without beauty. ~~
305:299,30[J  ]| I remember her perfectly.  Just the kind of girl I should
305:299,31[J  ]| suppose likely to captivate poor Edward.  I offered
305:299,32[J  ]| immediately, as soon as my mother related the affair
305:299,33[J  ]| to me, to talk to him myself, and dissuade him from the
305:299,34[J  ]| match; but it was too late \then\, I found, to do any*thing,
305:299,35[J  ]| for unluckily, I was not in the way at first, and knew
305:299,36[J  ]| nothing of it till after the breach had taken place, when
305:299,37[J  ]| it was not for me, you know, to interfere.  But had I
305:299,38[J  ]| been informed of it a few hours earlier ~~ I think it is
305:300,01[J  ]| most probable ~~ that something might have been hit
305:300,02[J  ]| on.  I certainly should have represented it to Edward
305:300,03[J  ]| in a very strong light.  ""My dear fellow,"" I should have
305:300,04[J  ]| said, ""consider what you are doing.  You are making
305:300,05[J  ]| a most disgraceful connection, and such a one as your
305:300,06[J  ]| family are unanimous in disapproving.""  I cannot help
305:300,07[J  ]| thinking, in short, that means might have been found.
305:300,08[J  ]| But now it is all too late.  He must be starved, you
305:300,09[J  ]| know; ~~ that is certain; absolutely starved."
305:300,10['  ]| He had just settled this point with great composure,
305:300,11['  ]| when the entrance of Mrs%*John*Dashwood put an end
305:300,12['  ]| to the subject.  But though \she\ never spoke of it out of
305:300,13['  ]| her own family, Elinor could see its influence on her
305:300,14['  ]| mind, in the something like confusion of countenance
305:300,15['  ]| with which she entered, and an attempt at cordiality in
305:300,16['  ]| her behaviour to herself.  She even proceeded so far as
305:300,17['  ]| to be concerned to find that Elinor and her sister were so
305:300,18['  ]| soon to leave town, as she had hoped to see more of
305:300,19['  ]| them; ~~ an exertion in which her husband, who attended
305:300,20['  ]| her into the room, and hung enamoured over her accents,
305:300,21['  ]| seemed to distinguish every*thing that was most affectionate
305:300,22['  ]| and graceful.
306:301,01['  ]| One other short call in Harley-street, in which Elinor
306:301,02['  ]| received her brother's congratulations on their travelling
306:301,03['  ]| so far towards Barton without any expense, and on
306:301,04['  ]| Colonel*Brandon's being to follow them to Cleveland in
306:301,05['  ]| a day or two, completed the intercourse of the brother
306:301,06['  ]| and sisters in town; ~~ and a faint invitation from Fanny,
306:301,07['  ]| to come to Norland whenever it should happen to be in
306:301,08['  ]| their way, which of all things was the most unlikely to
306:301,09['  ]| occur, with a more warm, though less public, assurance,
306:301,10['  ]| from John to Elinor, of the promptitude with which he
306:301,11['  ]| should come to see her at Delaford, was all that foretold
306:301,12['  ]| any meeting in the country.
306:301,13['  ]| It amused her to observe that all her friends seemed
306:301,14['  ]| determined to send her to Delaford; ~~ a place, in which,
306:301,15['  ]| of all others, she would now least chuse to visit, or wish
306:301,16['  ]| to reside; for not only was it considered as her future
306:301,17['  ]| home by her brother and Mrs%*Jennings, but even Lucy,
306:301,18['  ]| when they parted, gave her a pressing invitation to visit
306:301,19['  ]| her there.
306:301,20['  ]| Very early in April, and tolerably early in the day,
306:301,21['  ]| the two parties from Hanover-square and Berkeley-street
306:301,22['  ]| set out from their respective homes, to meet, by appointment,
306:301,23['  ]| on the road.  For the convenience of Charlotte
306:301,24['  ]| and her child, they were to be more than two days on
306:301,25['  ]| their journey, and Mr%*Palmer, travelling more expeditiously
306:301,26['  ]| with Colonel*Brandon, was to join them at
306:301,27['  ]| Cleveland soon after their arrival.
306:301,28['  ]| Marianne, few as had been her hours of comfort in
306:301,29['  ]| London, and eager as she had long been to quit it, could
306:301,30['  ]| not, when it came to the point, bid adieu to the house
306:301,31['  ]| in which she had for the last time enjoyed those hopes,
306:301,32['  ]| and that confidence, in Willoughby, which were now
306:301,33['  ]| extinguished for*ever, without great pain.  Nor could she
306:302,01['  ]| leave the place in which Willoughby remained, busy in
306:302,02['  ]| new engagements, and new schemes, in which \she\ could
306:302,03['  ]| have no share, without shedding many tears.
306:302,04['  ]| Elinor's satisfaction at the moment of removal, was
306:302,05['  ]| more positive.  She had no such object for her lingering
306:302,06['  ]| thoughts to fix on, she left no creature behind, from
306:302,07['  ]| whom it would give her a moment's regret to be divided
306:302,08['  ]| for*ever, she was pleased to be free herself from the
306:302,09['  ]| persecution of Lucy's friendship, she was grateful for
306:302,10['  ]| bringing her sister away unseen by Willoughby since
306:302,11['  ]| his marriage, and she looked forward with hope to what
306:302,12['  ]| a few months of tranquillity at Barton might do towards
306:302,13['  ]| restoring Marianne's peace of mind, and confirming her
306:302,14['  ]| own.
306:302,15['  ]| Their journey was safely performed.  The second day
306:302,16['  ]| brought them into the cherished, or the prohibited,
306:302,17['  ]| county of Somerset, for as such was it dwelt on by turns
306:302,18['  ]| in Marianne's imagination; and in the forenoon of the
306:302,19['  ]| third they drove up to Cleveland.
306:302,20['  ]| Cleveland was a spacious, modern-built house, situated
306:302,21['  ]| on a sloping lawn.  It had no park, but the pleasure-grounds
306:302,22['  ]| were tolerably extensive; and like every other
306:302,23['  ]| place of the same degree of importance, it had its open
306:302,24['  ]| shrubbery, and closer wood walk, a road of smooth gravel
306:302,25['  ]| winding round a plantation, led to the front, the lawn
306:302,26['  ]| was dotted over with timber, the house itself was under
306:302,27['  ]| the guardianship of the fir, the mountain-ash, and the
306:302,28['  ]| acacia, and a thick screen of them altogether, interspersed
306:302,29['  ]| with tall Lombardy poplars, shut out the offices.
306:302,30['  ]| Marianne entered the house with an heart swelling
306:302,31['  ]| with emotion from the consciousness of being only eighty
306:302,32['  ]| miles from Barton, and not thirty from Combe*Magna;
306:302,33['  ]| and before she had been five minutes within its walls,
306:302,34['  ]| while the others were busily helping Charlotte shew her
306:302,35['  ]| child to the housekeeper, she quitted it again, stealing
306:302,36['  ]| away through the winding shrubberies, now just
306:302,37['  ]| beginning to be in beauty, to gain a distant eminence;
306:302,38['  ]| where, from its Grecian temple, her eye, wandering over
306:303,01['  ]| a wide tract of country to the south-east, could fondly
306:303,02['  ]| rest on the farthest ridge of hills in the horizon, and
306:303,03['  ]| fancy that from their summits Combe*Magna might be
306:303,04['  ]| seen.
306:303,05['  ]| In such moments of precious, of invaluable misery,
306:303,06['  ]| she rejoiced in tears of agony to be at Cleveland; and as
306:303,07['  ]| she returned by a different circuit to the house, feeling
306:303,08['  ]| all the happy privilege of country liberty, of wandering
306:303,09['  ]| from place to place in free and luxurious solitude, she
306:303,10['  ]| resolved to spend almost every hour of every day while
306:303,11['  ]| she remained with the Palmers, in the indulgence of
306:303,12['  ]| such solitary rambles.
306:303,13['  ]| She returned just in time to join the others as they
306:303,14['  ]| quitted the house, on an excursion through its more
306:303,15['  ]| immediate premises; and the rest of the morning was
306:303,16['  ]| easily whiled away, in lounging round the kitchen garden,
306:303,17['  ]| examining the bloom upon its walls, and listening to
306:303,18['  ]| the gardener's lamentations upon blights, ~~ in dawdling
306:303,19['  ]| through the green-house, where the loss of her favourite
306:303,20['  ]| plants, unwarily exposed, and nipped by the lingering
306:303,21['  ]| frost, raised the laughter of Charlotte, ~~ and in visiting
306:303,22['  ]| her poultry-yard, where, in the disappointed hopes of
306:303,23['  ]| her dairy-maid, by hens forsaking their nests, or being
306:303,24['  ]| stolen by a fox, or in the rapid decease of a promising
306:303,25['  ]| young brood, she found fresh sources of merriment.
306:303,26['  ]| The morning was fine and dry, and Marianne, in her
306:303,27['  ]| plan of employment abroad, had not calculated for any
306:303,28['  ]| change of weather during their stay at Cleveland.  With
306:303,29['  ]| great surprise therefore, did she find herself prevented by
306:303,30['  ]| a settled rain from going out again after dinner.  She
306:303,31['  ]| had depended on a twilight walk to the Grecian temple,
306:303,32['  ]| and perhaps all over the grounds, and an evening merely
306:303,33['  ]| cold or damp would not have deterred her from it; but
306:303,34['  ]| an heavy and settled rain even \she\ could not fancy dry
306:303,35['  ]| or pleasant weather for walking.
306:303,36['  ]| Their party was small, and the hours passed quietly
306:303,37['  ]| away.  Mrs%*Palmer had her child, and Mrs%*Jennings
306:303,38['  ]| her carpet-work; they talked of the friends they had
306:304,01['  ]| left behind, arranged Lady*Middleton's engagements,
306:304,02['  ]| and wondered whether Mr%*Palmer and Colonel*Brandon
306:304,03['  ]| would get farther than Reading that night.  Elinor,
306:304,04['  ]| however little concerned in it, joined in their discourse,
306:304,05['  ]| and Marianne, who had the knack of finding her way
306:304,06['  ]| in every house to the library, however it might be
306:304,07['  ]| avoided by the family in general, soon procured herself
306:304,08['  ]| a book.
306:304,09['  ]| Nothing was wanting on Mrs%*Palmer's side that constant
306:304,10['  ]| and friendly good-humour could do, to make them
306:304,11['  ]| feel themselves welcome.  The openness and heartiness
306:304,12['  ]| of her manner, more than atoned for that want of
306:304,13['  ]| recollection and elegance, which made her often deficient
306:304,14['  ]| in the forms of politeness; her kindness, recommended
306:304,15['  ]| by so pretty a face, was engaging; her folly, though
306:304,16['  ]| evident, was not disgusting, because it was not conceited;
306:304,17['  ]| and Elinor could have forgiven every*thing but
306:304,18['  ]| her laugh.
306:304,19['  ]| The two gentlemen arrived the next day to a very late
306:304,20['  ]| dinner, affording a pleasant enlargement of the party,
306:304,21['  ]| and a very welcome variety to their conversation, which
306:304,22['  ]| a long morning of the same continued rain had reduced
306:304,23['  ]| very low.
306:304,24['  ]| Elinor had seen so little of Mr%*Palmer, and in that
306:304,25['  ]| little had seen so much variety in his address to her sister
306:304,26['  ]| and herself, that she knew not what to expect to find
306:304,27['  ]| him in his own family.  She found him, however, perfectly
306:304,28['  ]| the gentleman in his behaviour to all his visitors,
306:304,29['  ]| and only occasionally rude to his wife and her mother;
306:304,30['  ]| she found him very capable of being a pleasant companion,
306:304,31['  ]| and only prevented from being so always, by
306:304,32['  ]| too great an aptitude to fancy himself as much superior
306:304,33['  ]| to people in general, as he must feel himself to be to
Mrs%*Jennings
306:304,34['  ]| and Charlotte.  For the rest of his character
306:304,35['  ]| and habits, they were marked, as far as Elinor could
306:304,36['  ]| perceive, with no traits at all unusual in his sex and
306:304,37['  ]| time of life.  He was nice in his eating, uncertain in his
306:304,38['  ]| hours; fond of his child, though affecting to slight it;
306:305,01['  ]| and idled away the mornings at billiards, which ought
306:305,02['  ]| to have been devoted to business.  She liked him,
306:305,03['  ]| however, upon the whole much better than she had
306:305,04['  ]| expected, and in her heart was not sorry that she could
306:305,05['  ]| like him no more; ~~ not sorry to be driven by the
306:305,06['  ]| observation of his Epicurism, his selfishness, and his
306:305,07['  ]| conceit, to rest with complacency on the remembrance
306:305,08['  ]| of Edward's generous temper, simple taste, and diffident
306:305,09['  ]| feelings.
306:305,10['  ]| Of Edward, or at least of some of his concerns, she
306:305,11['  ]| now received intelligence from Colonel*Brandon, who
306:305,12['  ]| had been into Dorsetshire lately; and who, treating
306:305,13['  ]| her at once as the disinterested friend of Mr%*Ferrars, and
306:305,14['  ]| the kind confidante of himself, talked to her a great deal
306:305,15['  ]| of the Parsonage at Delaford, described its deficiencies,
306:305,16['  ]| and told her what he meant to do himself towards
306:305,17['  ]| removing them. ~~ His behaviour to her in this, as well
306:305,18['  ]| as in every other particular, his open pleasure in meeting
306:305,19['  ]| her after an absence of only ten days, his readiness to
306:305,20['  ]| converse with her, and his deference for her opinion,
306:305,21['  ]| might very well justify Mrs%*Jennings's persuasion of his
306:305,22['  ]| attachment, and would have been enough, perhaps,
306:305,23['  ]| had not Elinor still, as from the first, believed Marianne
306:305,24['  ]| his real favourite, to make her suspect it herself.  But
306:305,25['  ]| as it was, such a notion had scarcely ever entered her
306:305,26['  ]| head, except by Mrs%*Jennings's suggestion; and she
306:305,27['  ]| could not help believing herself the nicest observer of
306:305,28['  ]| the two; ~~ she watched his eyes, while Mrs%*Jennings
306:305,29['  ]| thought only of his behaviour; ~~ and while his looks of
306:305,30['  ]| anxious solicitude on Marianne's feeling, in her head
306:305,31['  ]| and throat, the beginning of an heavy cold, because
306:305,32['  ]| unexpressed by words, entirely escaped the latter lady's
306:305,33['  ]| observation; ~~ \she\ could discover in them the quick
306:305,34['  ]| feelings, and needless alarm of a lover.
306:305,35['  ]| Two delightful twilight walks on the third and fourth
306:305,36['  ]| evenings of her being there, not merely on the dry gravel
306:305,37['  ]| of the shrubbery, but all over the grounds, and especially
306:305,38['  ]| in the most distant parts of them, where there was something
306:306,01['  ]| more of wildness than in the rest, where the
306:306,02['  ]| trees were the oldest, and the grass was the longest and
306:306,03['  ]| wettest, had ~~ assisted by the still greater imprudence
306:306,04['  ]| of sitting in her wet shoes and stockings ~~ given Marianne
306:306,05['  ]| a cold so violent, as, though for a day or two trifled with
306:306,06['  ]| or denied, would force itself by increasing ailments, on
306:306,07['  ]| the concern of every*body, and the notice of herself.
306:306,08['  ]| Prescriptions poured in from all quarters, and as usual,
306:306,09['  ]| were all declined.  Though heavy and feverish, with
306:306,10['  ]| a pain in her limbs, a cough, and a sore throat, a good
306:306,11['  ]| night's rest was to cure her entirely; and it was with
306:306,12['  ]| difficulty that Elinor prevailed on her, when she went
306:306,13['  ]| to bed, to try one or two of the simplest of the remedies.
307:307,01['  ]| Marianne got up the next morning at her usual time;
307:307,02['  ]| to every inquiry replied that she was better, and tried to
307:307,03['  ]| prove herself so, by engaging in her accustomary employments.
307:307,04['  ]| But a day spent in sitting shivering over the
307:307,05['  ]| fire with a book in her hand, which she was unable to
307:307,06['  ]| read, or in lying, weary and languid, on a sofa, did not
307:307,07['  ]| speak much in favour of her amendment; and when,
307:307,08['  ]| at last, she went early to bed, more and more indisposed,
307:307,09['  ]| Colonel*Brandon was only astonished at her sister's
307:307,10['  ]| composure, who, though attending and nursing her the
307:307,11['  ]| whole day, against Marianne's inclination, and forcing
307:307,12['  ]| proper medicines on her at night, trusted, like Marianne,
307:307,13['  ]| to the certainty and efficacy of sleep, and felt no real
307:307,14['  ]| alarm.
307:307,15['  ]| A very restless and feverish night, however, disappointed
307:307,16['  ]| the expectation of both; and when Marianne,
307:307,17['  ]| after persisting in rising, confessed herself unable to sit
307:307,18['  ]| up, and returned voluntarily to her bed, Elinor was very
307:307,19['  ]| ready to adopt Mrs%*Jennings's advice, of sending for
307:307,20['  ]| the Palmers' apothecary.
307:307,21['  ]| He came, examined his patient, and though encouraging
307:307,22['  ]| Miss*Dashwood to expect that a very few days
307:307,23['  ]| would restore her sister to health, yet, by pronouncing
307:307,24['  ]| her disorder to have a putrid tendency, and allowing the
307:307,25['  ]| word
307:307,25[W  ]| "infection"
307:307,25['  ]| to pass his lips, gave instant alarm
307:307,26['  ]| to Mrs%*Palmer on her baby's account.  Mrs%*Jennings,
307:307,27['  ]| who had been inclined from the first to think Marianne's
307:307,28['  ]| complaint more serious than Elinor, now looked very
307:307,29['  ]| grave on Mr%*Harris's report, and confirming Charlotte's
307:307,30['  ]| fears and caution, urged the necessity of her immediate
307:307,31['  ]| removal with her infant; and Mr%*Palmer, though
307:307,32['  ]| treating their apprehensions as idle, found the anxiety
307:307,33['  ]| and importunity of his wife too great to be withstood.
307:308,01['  ]| Her departure therefore was fixed on; and, within an
307:308,02['  ]| hour after Mr%*Harris's arrival, she set off, with her
307:308,03['  ]| little boy and his nurse, for the house of a near relation
307:308,04['  ]| of Mr%*Palmer's, who lived a few miles on the other side
307:308,05['  ]| of Bath; whither her husband promised, at her earnest
307:308,06['  ]| entreaty, to join her in a day or two; and whither she
307:308,07['  ]| was almost equally urgent with her mother to accompany
307:308,08['  ]| her.  Mrs%*Jennings, however, with a kindness of
307:308,09['  ]| heart which made Elinor really love her, declared her
307:308,10['  ]| resolution of not stirring from Cleveland as long as
307:308,11['  ]| Marianne remained ill, and of endeavouring, by her own
307:308,12['  ]| attentive care, to supply to her the place of the mother
307:308,13['  ]| she had taken her from; and Elinor found her on every
307:308,14['  ]| occasion a most willing and active helpmate, desirous
307:308,15['  ]| to share in all her fatigues, and often by her better
307:308,16['  ]| experience in nursing, of material use.
307:308,17['  ]| Poor Marianne, languid and low from the nature of
307:308:18['  ]| her malady, and feeling herself universally ill, could no
307:308,19['  ]| longer hope that to-morrow would find her recovered;
307:308,20['  ]| and the idea of what to-morrow would have produced,
307:308,21['  ]| but for this unlucky illness, made every ailment more
307:308,22['  ]| severe; for on that day they were to have begun their
307:308,23['  ]| journey home; and, attended the whole way by a servant
307:308,24['  ]| of Mrs%*Jennings, were to have taken their mother
307:308,25['  ]| by surprise on the following forenoon.  The little that
307:308,26['  ]| she said, was all in lamentation of this inevitable delay;
307:308,27['  ]| though Elinor tried to raise her spirits, and make her
307:308,28['  ]| believe, as she \then\ really believed herself, that it would
307:308,29['  ]| be a very short one.
307:308,30['  ]| The next day produced little or no alteration in the
307:308,31['  ]| state of the patient; she certainly was not better, and
307:308,32['  ]| except that there was no amendment, did not appear
307:308,33['  ]| worse.  Their party was now farther reduced; for
307:308,34['  ]| Mr%*Palmer, though very unwilling to go, as well from
307:308,35['  ]| real humanity and good-nature, as from a dislike of
307:308,36['  ]| appearing to be frightened away by his wife, was persuaded
307:308,37['  ]| at last by Colonel*Brandon to perform his promise
307:308,38['  ]| of following her; and while he was preparing to go,
307:309,01['  ]| Colonel*Brandon himself, with a much greater exertion,
307:309,02['  ]| began to talk of going likewise. ~~ Here, however, the
307:309,03['  ]| kindness of Mrs%*Jennings interposed most acceptably;
307:309,04['  ]| for
307:309,04@k   | to send the Colonel away while his love was in so
307:309,05@k   | much uneasiness on her sister's account, would be to
307:309,06@k   | deprive them both,
307:309,06['  ]| she thought,
307:309,06@k   | of every comfort;
307:309,06['  ]| and
307:309,07['  ]| therefore telling him at once that
307:309,07@k   | his stay at Cleveland
307:309,08@k   | was necessary to herself, that she should want him to
307:309,09@k   | play at piquet of an evening, while Miss*Dashwood was
307:309,10@k   | above with her sister,
307:309,10['  ]| &c% she urged him so strongly
307:309,11['  ]| to remain, that he, who was gratifying the first wish
307:309,12['  ]| of his own heart by a compliance, could not long even
307:309,13['  ]| affect to demur; especially as Mrs%*Jennings's entreaty
307:309,14['  ]| was warmly seconded by Mr%*Palmer, who seemed to feel
307:309,15['  ]| a relief to himself, in leaving behind him a person so well
307:309,16['  ]| able to assist or advise Miss*Dashwood in any emergence.
307:309,17['  ]| Marianne was of course kept in ignorance of all these
307:309,18['  ]| arrangements.  She knew not that she had been the
307:309,19['  ]| means of sending the owners of Cleveland away, in
307:309,20['  ]| about seven days from the time of their arrival.  It gave
307:309,21['  ]| her no surprise that she saw nothing of Mrs%*Palmer;
307:309,22['  ]| and as it gave her likewise no concern, she never mentioned
307:309,23['  ]| her name.
307:309,24['  ]| Two days passed away from the time of Mr%*Palmer's
307:309,25['  ]| departure, and her situation continued, with little variation,
307:309,26['  ]| the same.  Mr%*Harris, who attended her every day,
307:309,27['  ]| still talked boldly of a speedy recovery, and Miss*Dashwood
307:309,28['  ]| was equally sanguine; but the expectation of
307:309,29['  ]| the others was by no means so cheerful.  Mrs%*Jennings
307:309,30['  ]| had determined very early in the seisure that Marianne
307:309,31['  ]| would never get over it, and Colonel*Brandon, who was
307:309,32['  ]| chiefly of use in listening to Mrs%*Jennings's forebodings,
307:309,33['  ]| was not in a state of mind to resist their influence.  He
307:309,34['  ]| tried to reason himself out of fears, which the different
307:309,35['  ]| judgment of the apothecary seemed to render absurd;
307:309,36['  ]| but the many hours of each day in which he was left
307:309,37['  ]| entirely alone, were but too favourable for the admission
307:309,38['  ]| of every melancholy idea, and he could not expel from
307:310,01['  ]| his mind the persuasion that he should see Marianne no
307:310,02['  ]| more.
307:310,03['  ]| On the morning of the third day however, the gloomy
307:310,04['  ]| anticipations of both were almost done away; for when
307:310,05['  ]| Mr%*Harris arrived, he declared his patient materially
307:310,06['  ]| better.  Her pulse was much stronger, and every symptom
307:310,07['  ]| more favourable than on the preceding visit.
307:310,08['  ]| Elinor, confirmed in every pleasant hope, was all cheerfulness;
307:310,09['  ]| rejoicing that in her letters to her mother, she
307:310,10['  ]| had pursued her own judgment rather than her friend's,
307:310,11['  ]| in making very light of the indisposition which delayed
307:310,12['  ]| them at Cleveland; and almost fixing on the time when
307:310,13['  ]| Marianne would be able to travel.
307:310,14['  ]| But the day did not close so auspiciously as it began. ~~
307:310,15['  ]| Towards the evening, Marianne became ill again,
307:310,16['  ]| growing more heavy, restless, and uncomfortable than
307:310,17['  ]| before.  Her sister, however, still sanguine, was willing
307:310,18['  ]| to attribute the change to nothing more than the fatigue
307:310,19['  ]| of having sat up to have her bed made; and carefully
307:310,20['  ]| administering the cordials prescribed, saw her with
307:310,21['  ]| satisfaction sink at last into a slumber, from which she
307:310,22['  ]| expected the most beneficial effects.  Her sleep, though
307:310,23['  ]| not so quiet as Elinor wished to see it, lasted a considerable
307:310,24['  ]| time; and anxious to observe the result of it
307:310,25['  ]| herself, she resolved to sit with her during the whole of
307:310,26['  ]| it.  Mrs%*Jennings, knowing nothing of any change in
307:310,27['  ]| the patient, went unusually early to bed; her maid, who
307:310,28['  ]| was one of the principal nurses, was recreating herself
307:310,29['  ]| in the housekeeper's room, and Elinor remained alone
307:310,30['  ]| with Marianne.
307:310,31['  ]| The repose of the latter became more and more disturbed;
307:310,32['  ]| and her sister, who watched with unremitting
307:310,33['  ]| attention her continual change of posture, and heard
307:310,34['  ]| the frequent but inarticulate sounds of complaint which
307:310,35['  ]| passed her lips, was almost wishing to rouse her from
307:310,36['  ]| so painful a slumber, when Marianne, suddenly awakened
307:310,37['  ]| by some accidental noise in the house, started
307:310,38['  ]| hastily up, and with feverish wildness, cried out ~~
307:311,01[C  ]| "Is mama coming? ~~"
307:311,02[A  ]| "Not yet,"
307:311,02['  ]| replied the other, concealing her terror,
307:311,03['  ]| and assisting Marianne to lie down again,
307:311,03[A  ]| "but she will
307:311,04[A  ]| be here, I hope, before it is long.  It is a great way, you
307:311,05[A  ]| know, from hence to Barton."
307:311,06[C  ]| "But she must not go round by London,"
307:311,06['  ]| cried
307:311,07['  ]| Marianne, in the same hurried manner,
307:311,07[C  ]| "I shall never
307:311,08[C  ]| see her, if she goes by London."
307:311,09['  ]| Elinor perceived with alarm that she was not quite
307:311,10['  ]| herself, and while attempting to sooth her, eagerly felt
307:311,11['  ]| her pulse.  It was lower and quicker than ever! and
307:311,12['  ]| Marianne, still talking wildly of mama, her alarm increased
307:311,13['  ]| so rapidly, as to determine her on sending
307:311,14['  ]| instantly for Mr%*Harris, and dispatching a messenger
307:311,15['  ]| to Barton for her mother.  To consult with Colonel*Brandon
307:311,16['  ]| on the best means of effecting the latter, was
307:311,17['  ]| a thought which immediately followed the resolution of
307:311,18['  ]| its performance; and as soon as she had rung up the
307:311,19['  ]| maid to take her place by her sister, she hastened down
307:311,20['  ]| to the drawing-room, where she knew he was generally
307:311,21['  ]| to be found at a much later hour than the present.
307:311,22['  ]| It was no time for hesitation.  Her fears and her
307:311,23['  ]| difficulties were immediately before him.  Her fears, he
307:311,24['  ]| had no courage, no confidence to attempt the removal
307:311,25['  ]| of; ~~ he listened to them in silent despondence; ~~ but
307:311,26['  ]| her difficulties were instantly obviated, for with a readiness
307:311,27['  ]| that seemed to speak the occasion, and the service
307:311,28['  ]| pre-arranged in his mind, he offered himself as the
307:311,29['  ]| messenger who should fetch Mrs%*Dashwood.  Elinor
307:311,30['  ]| made no resistance that was not easily overcome.  She
307:311,31['  ]| thanked him with brief, though fervent gratitude, and
307:311,32['  ]| while he went to hurry off his servant with a message
307:311,33['  ]| to Mr%*Harris, and an order for post-horses directly, she
307:311,34['  ]| wrote a few lines to her mother.
307:311,35['  ]| The comfort of such a friend at that moment as
307:311,36['  ]| Colonel*Brandon ~~ of such a companion for her mother, ~~
307:311,37['  ]| how gratefully was it felt! ~~a companion whose judgment
307:311,38['  ]| would guide, whose attendance must relieve, and
307:312,01['  ]| whose friendship might sooth her! ~~ as far as the shock
307:312,02['  ]| of such a summons \could\ be lessened to her, his presence,
307:312,03['  ]| his manners, his assistance, would lessen it.
307:312,04['  ]| \He\, meanwhile, whatever he might feel, acted with
307:312,05['  ]| all the firmness of a collected mind, made every necessary
307:312,06['  ]| arrangement with the utmost dispatch, and calculated
307:312,07['  ]| with exactness the time in which she might look for his
307:312,08['  ]| return.  Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind.
307:312,09['  ]| The horses arrived, even before they were expected,
307:312,10['  ]| and Colonel*Brandon only pressing her hand with a
307:312,11['  ]| look of solemnity, and a few words spoken too low
307:312,12['  ]| to reach her ear, hurried into the carriage.  It
307:312,13['  ]| was then about twelve o'clock, and she returned to
307:312,14['  ]| her sister's apartment to wait for the arrival of the
307:312,15['  ]| apothecary, and to watch by her the rest of the night.
307:312,16['  ]| It was a night of almost equal suffering to both.  Hour
307:312,17['  ]| after hour passed away in sleepless pain and delirium on
307:312,18['  ]| Marianne's side, and in the most cruel anxiety on Elinor's,
307:312,19['  ]| before Mr%*Harris appeared.  Her apprehensions once
307:312,20['  ]| raised, paid by their excess for all her former security;
307:312,21['  ]| and the servant who sat up with her, for she would not
307:312,22['  ]| allow Mrs%*Jennings to be called, only tortured her more,
307:312,23['  ]| by hints of what her mistress had always thought.
307:312,24['  ]| Marianne's ideas were still, at intervals, fixed incoherently
307:312,25['  ]| on her mother, and whenever she mentioned
307:312,26['  ]| her name, it gave a pang to the heart of poor Elinor,
307:312,27['  ]| who, reproaching herself for having trifled with so many
307:312,28['  ]| days of illness, and wretched for some immediate relief,
307:312,29['  ]| fancied that all relief might soon be in vain, that every*thing
307:312,30['  ]| had been delayed too long, and pictured to herself
307:312,31['  ]| her suffering mother arriving too late to see this darling
307:312,32['  ]| child, or to see her rational.
307:312,33['  ]| She was on the point of sending again for Mr%*Harris,
307:312,34['  ]| or if \he\ could not come, for some other advice, when the
307:312,35['  ]| former ~~ but not till after five o'clock ~~ arrived.  His
307:312,36['  ]| opinion, however, made some little amends for his delay,
307:312,37['  ]| for though acknowledging a very unexpected and unpleasant
307:312,38['  ]| alteration in his patient, he would not allow
307:313,01['  ]| the danger to be material, and talked of the relief which
307:313,02['  ]| a fresh mode of treatment must procure, with a confidence
307:313,03['  ]| which, in a lesser degree, was communicated to Elinor.
307:313,04['  ]| He promised to call again in the course of three or four
307:313,05['  ]| hours, and left both the patient and her anxious attendant
307:313,06['  ]| more composed than he had found them.
307:313,07['  ]| With strong concern, and with many reproaches for
307:313,08['  ]| not being called to their aid, did Mrs%*Jennings hear in
307:313,09['  ]| the morning of what had passed.  Her former apprehensions,
307:313,10['  ]| now with greater reason restored, left her no
307:313,11['  ]| doubt of the event; and though trying to speak comfort
307:313,12['  ]| to Elinor, her conviction of her sister's danger would
307:313,13['  ]| not allow her to offer the comfort of hope.  Her heart
307:313,14['  ]| was really grieved.  The rapid decay, the early death
307:313,15['  ]| of a girl so young, so lovely as Marianne, must have
307:313,16['  ]| struck a less interested person with concern.  On Mrs%*Jennings's
307:313,17['  ]| compassion she had other claims.  She had
307:313,18['  ]| been for three months her companion, was still under
307:313,19['  ]| her care, and she was known to have been greatly injured,
307:313,20['  ]| and long unhappy.  The distress of her sister too, particularly
307:313,21['  ]| a favourite, was before her; ~~ and as for their
307:313,22['  ]| mother, when Mrs%*Jennings considered that Marianne
307:313,23['  ]| might probably be to \her\ what Charlotte was to herself,
307:313,24['  ]| her sympathy in \her\ sufferings was very sincere.
307:313,25['  ]| Mr%*Harris was punctual in his second visit; ~~ but
307:313,26['  ]| he came to be disappointed in his hopes of what the last
307:313,27['  ]| would produce.  His medicines had failed; ~~ the fever
307:313,28['  ]| was unabated; and Marianne only more quiet ~~ not
307:313,29['  ]| more herself ~~ remained in an heavy stupor.  Elinor,
307:313,30['  ]| catching all, and more than all, his fears in a moment,
307:313,31['  ]| proposed to call in farther advice.  But he judged it
307:313,32['  ]| unnecessary; he had still something more to try, some
307:313,33['  ]| fresh application, of whose success he was almost as
307:313,34['  ]| confident as the last, and his visit concluded with
307:313,35['  ]| encouraging assurances which reached the ear, but
307:313,36['  ]| could not enter the heart, of Miss*Dashwood.  She was
307:313,37['  ]| calm, except when she thought of her mother, but she
307:313,38['  ]| was almost hopeless; and in this state she continued
307:314,01['  ]| till noon, scarcely stirring from her sister's bed, her
307:314,02['  ]| thoughts wandering from one image of grief, one suffering
307:314,03['  ]| friend to another, and her spirits oppressed to the
307:314,04['  ]| utmost by the conversation of Mrs%*Jennings, who
307:314,05['  ]| scrupled not to attribute the severity and danger of
307:314,06['  ]| this attack, to the many weeks of previous indisposition
307:314,07['  ]| which Marianne's disappointment had brought on.
307:314,08['  ]| Elinor felt all the reasonableness of the idea, and it gave
307:314,09['  ]| fresh misery to her reflections.
307:314,10['  ]| About noon, however, she began ~~ but with a caution
307:314,11['  ]| ~~ a dread of disappointment, which for some time kept
307:314,12['  ]| her silent, even to her friend ~~ to fancy, to hope she could
307:314,13['  ]| perceive a slight amendment in her sister's pulse; ~~
307:314,14['  ]| she waited, watched, and examined it again and again; ~~
307:314,15['  ]| and at last, with an agitation more difficult to bury under
307:314,16['  ]| exterior calmness, than all her foregoing distress, ventured
307:314,17['  ]| to communicate her hopes.  Mrs%*Jennings, though
307:314,18['  ]| forced, on examination, to acknowledge a temporary
307:314,19['  ]| revival, tried to keep her young friend from indulging
307:314,20['  ]| a thought of its continuance; ~~ and Elinor, conning over
307:314,21['  ]| every injunction of distrust, told herself likewise not
307:314,22['  ]| to hope.  But it was too late.  Hope had already
307:314,23['  ]| entered; and feeling all its anxious flutter, she bent over
307:314,24['  ]| her sister to watch ~~ she hardly knew for what.  Half
307:314,25['  ]| an hour passed away, and the favourable symptom yet
307:314,26['  ]| blessed her.  Others even arose to confirm it.  Her
307:314,27['  ]| breath, her skin, her lips, all flattered Elinor with signs of
307:314,28['  ]| amendment, and Marianne fixed her eyes on her with
307:314,29['  ]| a rational, though languid, gaze.  Anxiety and hope now
307:314,30['  ]| oppressed her in equal degrees, and left her no moment of
307:314,31['  ]| tranquillity till the arrival of Mr%*Harris at four o'clock;
307:314,32['  ]| ~~ when his assurances, his felicitations on a recovery
307:314,33['  ]| in her sister even surpassing his expectation, gave her
307:314,34['  ]| confidence, comfort, and tears of joy.
307:314,35['  ]| Marianne was in every respect materially better, and
307:314,36['  ]| he declared her entirely out of danger.  Mrs%*Jennings,
307:314,37['  ]| perhaps satisfied with the partial justification of her
307:314,38['  ]| forebodings which had been found in their late alarm,
307:315,01['  ]| allowed herself to trust in his judgment, and admitted
307:315,02['  ]| with unfeigned joy, and soon with unequivocal cheerfulness,
307:315,03['  ]| the probability of an entire recovery.
307:315,04['  ]| Elinor could not be cheerful.  Her joy was of a different
307:315,05['  ]| kind, and led to anything rather than to gaiety.  Marianne
307:315,06['  ]| restored to life, health, friends, and to her doating
307:315,07['  ]| mother, was an idea to fill her heart with sensations of
307:315,08['  ]| exquisite comfort, and expand it in fervent gratitude; ~~
307:315,09['  ]| but it led to no outward demonstrations of joy, no words,
307:315,10['  ]| no smiles.  All within Elinor's breast was satisfaction,
307:315,11['  ]| silent and strong.
307:315,12['  ]| She continued by the side of her sister with little
307:315,13['  ]| intermission the whole afternoon, calming every fear,
307:315,14['  ]| satisfying every inquiry of her enfeebled spirits, supplying
307:315,15['  ]| every succour, and watching almost every look and
307:315,16['  ]| every breath.  The possibility of a relapse would of
307:315,17['  ]| course, in some moments, occur to remind her of what
307:315,18['  ]| anxiety was ~~ but when she saw, on her frequent and
307:315,19['  ]| minute examination, that every symptom of recovery
307:315,20['  ]| continued, and saw Marianne at six o'clock sink into a
307:315,21['  ]| quiet, steady, and to all appearance comfortable, sleep,
307:315,22['  ]| she silenced every doubt.
307:315,23['  ]| The time was now drawing on, when Colonel*Brandon
307:315,24['  ]| might be expected back.  At ten o'clock, she trusted,
307:315,25['  ]| or at least not much later, her mother would be relieved
307:315,26['  ]| from the dreadful suspense in which she must now be
307:315,27['  ]| travelling towards them.
307:315,27@a   | The Colonel too! ~~ perhaps
307:315,28@a   | scarcely less an object of pity! ~~ Oh! ~~ how slow was
307:315,29@a   | the progress of time which yet kept them in ignorance!
307:315,30['  ]| At seven o'clock, leaving Marianne still sweetly asleep,
307:315,31['  ]| she joined Mrs%*Jennings in the drawing-room to tea.
307:315,32['  ]| Of breakfast she had been kept by her fears, and of
307:315,33['  ]| dinner by their sudden reverse, from eating much; ~~
307:315,34['  ]| and the present refreshment, therefore, with such
307:315,35['  ]| feelings of content as she brought to it, was particularly
307:315,36['  ]| welcome.  Mrs%*Jennings would have persuaded her at
307:315,37['  ]| its conclusion to take some rest before her mother's
307:315,38['  ]| arrival, and allow \her\ to take her place by Marianne;
307:316,01['  ]| but Elinor had no sense of fatigue, no capability of sleep
307:316,02['  ]| at that moment about her, and she was not to be kept
307:316,03['  ]| away from her sister an unnecessary instant.  Mrs%*Jennings
307:316,04['  ]| therefore attending her up*stairs into the sick*chamber,
307:316,05['  ]| to satisfy herself that all continued right, left her there
307:316,06['  ]| again to her charge and her thoughts, and retired to
307:316,07['  ]| her own room to write letters and sleep.
307:316,08['  ]| The night was cold and stormy.  The wind roared
307:316,09['  ]| round the house, and the rain beat against the windows;
307:316,10['  ]| but Elinor, all happiness within, regarded it not.  Marianne
307:316,11['  ]| slept through every blast, and the travellers ~~ they had a
307:316,12['  ]| rich reward in store, for every present inconvenience.
307:316,13['  ]| The clock struck eight.  Had it been ten, Elinor would
307:316,14['  ]| have been convinced that at that moment she heard
307:316,15['  ]| a carriage driving up to the house; and so strong was
307:316,16['  ]| the persuasion that she \did\, in spite of the \almost\ impossibility
307:316,17['  ]| of their being already come, that she moved into
307:316,18['  ]| the adjoining dressing-closet and opened a window-shutter,
307:316,19['  ]| to be satisfied of the truth.  She instantly saw
307:316,20['  ]| that her ears had not deceived her.  The flaring lamps
307:316,21['  ]| of a carriage were immediately in view.  By their uncertain
307:316,22['  ]| light she thought she could discern it to be drawn
307:316,23['  ]| by four horses; and this, while it told the excess of her
307:316,24['  ]| poor mother's alarm, gave some explanation to such
307:316,25['  ]| unexpected rapidity.
307:316,26['  ]| Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficult to be
307:316,27['  ]| calm, as at that moment.  The knowledge of what her
307:316,28['  ]| mother must be feeling as the carriage stopt at the
307:316,29['  ]| door, ~~ of her doubt ~~ her dread ~~ perhaps her despair! ~~
307:316,30['  ]| and of what \she\ had to tell! ~~ with such knowledge it
307:316,31['  ]| was impossible to be calm.  All that remained to be done,
307:316,32['  ]| was to be speedy; and therefore staying only till she
307:316,33['  ]| could leave Mrs%*Jennings's maid with her sister, she
307:316,34['  ]| hurried down*stairs.
307:316,35['  ]| The bustle in the vestibule, as she passed along an
307:316,36['  ]| inner lobby, assured her that they were already in the
307:316,37['  ]| house.  She rushed forwards towards the drawing-room,
307:316,38['  ]| ~~ she entered it, ~~ and saw only Willoughby.
308:317,01['  ]| Elinor, starting back with a look of horror at the
308:317,02['  ]| sight of him, obeyed the first impulse of her heart in
308:317,03['  ]| turning instantly to quit the room, and her hand was
308:317,04['  ]| already on the lock, when its action was suspended by
308:317,05['  ]| his hastily advancing, and saying, in a voice rather of
308:317,06['  ]| command than supplication,
308:317,07[R  ]| "Miss*Dashwood, for half an hour ~~ for ten minutes ~~
308:317,08[R  ]| I entreat you to stay."
308:317,09[A  ]| "No, sir,"
308:317,09['  ]| she replied with firmness,
308:317,09[A  ]| "I shall \not\ stay.
308:317,10[A  ]| Your business cannot be with \me\.  The servants, I
308:317,11[A  ]| suppose, forgot to tell you that Mr%*Palmer was not in
308:317,12[A  ]| the house."
308:317,13[R  ]| "Had they told me,"
308:317,13['  ]| he cried with vehemence,
308:317,13[R  ]| "that
308:317,14[R  ]| Mr%*Palmer and all his relations were at the devil, it
308:317,15[R  ]| would not have turned me from the door.  My business
308:317,16[R  ]| is with you, and only you."
308:317,17[A  ]| "With me!" ~~
308:317,17['  ]| in the utmost amazement ~~
308:317,17[A  ]| "well,
308:317,18[A  ]| sir ~~ be quick ~~ and if you can ~~ less violent."
308:317,19[R  ]| "Sit down, and I will be both."
308:317,20['  ]| She hesitated; she knew not what to do.  The
308:317,21['  ]| possibility of Colonel*Brandon's arriving and finding
308:317,22['  ]| him there, came across her.  But she had promised to
308:317,23['  ]| hear him, and her curiosity no less than her honour was
308:317,24['  ]| engaged.  After a moment's recollection, therefore,
308:317,25['  ]| concluding that prudence required dispatch, and that
308:317,26['  ]| her acquiescence would best promote it, she walked
308:317,27['  ]| silently towards the table, and sat down.  He took the
308:317,28['  ]| opposite chair, and for half a minute not a word was
308:317,29['  ]| said by either.
308:317,30[A  ]| "Pray be quick, sir" ~~
308:317,30['  ]| said Elinor impatiently ~~
308:317,31[A  ]| "I have no time to spare."
308:317,32['  ]| He was sitting in an attitude of deep meditation, and
308:317,33['  ]| seemed not to hear her.
308:318,01[R  ]| "Your sister,"
308:318,01['  ]| said he, with abruptness, a moment
308:318,02['  ]| afterwards ~~
308:318,02[R  ]| "is out of danger.  I heard it from the
308:318,03[R  ]| servant.  God be praised! ~~ But is it true? ~~ is it really
308:318,04[R  ]| true?"
308:318,05['  ]| Elinor would not speak.  He repeated the inquiry
308:318,06['  ]| with yet greater eagerness.
308:318,07[R  ]| "For God's sake tell me, is she out of danger, or is
308:318,08[R  ]| she not?"
308:318,09[A  ]| "We hope she is."
308:318,10['  ]| He rose up, and walked across the room.
308:318,11[R  ]| "Had I known as much half an hour ago ~~ But since
308:318,12[R  ]| I \am\ here" ~~
308:318,12['  ]| speaking with a forced vivacity as he
308:318,13['  ]| returned to his seat ~~
308:318,13[R  ]| "what does it signify? ~~ For once,
308:318,14[R  ]| Miss*Dashwood ~~ it will be the last time, perhaps ~~ let
308:318,15[R  ]| us be cheerful together. ~~ I am in a fine mood for gaiety.
308:318,16[R  ]| ~~ Tell me honestly" ~~
308:318,16['  ]| a deeper glow overspreading his
308:318,17['  ]| cheeks ~~
308:318,17[R  ]| "do you think me most a knave or a fool?"
308:318,18['  ]| Elinor looked at him with greater astonishment than
308:318,19['  ]| ever.  She began to think that he must be in liquor; ~~
308:318,20['  ]| the strangeness of such a visit, and of such manners,
308:318,21['  ]| seemed no otherwise intelligible; and with this impression
308:318,22['  ]| she immediately rose, saying,
308:318,23[A  ]| "Mr%*Willoughby, I advise you at present to return
308:318,24[A  ]| to Combe. ~~ I am not at leisure to remain with you
308:318,25[A  ]| longer. ~~ Whatever your business may be with me, it
308:318,26[A  ]| will be better recollected and explained to-morrow."
308:318,27[R  ]| "I understand you,"
308:318,27['  ]| he replied, with an expressive
308:318,28['  ]| smile, and a voice perfectly calm,
308:318,28[R  ]| "yes, I am very
308:318,29[R  ]| drunk. ~~ A pint of porter with my cold beef at Marlborough
308:318,30[R  ]| was enough to over-set me."
308:318,31[A  ]| "At Marlborough!" ~~
308:318,31['  ]| cried Elinor, more and more at
308:318,32['  ]| a loss to understand what he would be at.
308:318,33[R  ]| "Yes ~~ I left London this morning at eight o'clock,
308:318,34[R  ]| and the only ten minutes I have spent out of my chaise
308:318,35[R  ]| since that time, procured me a nuncheon at Marlborough."
308:318,36['  ]| The steadiness of his manner, and the intelligence
308:318,37['  ]| of his eye as he spoke, convincing Elinor, that whatever
308:318,38['  ]| other unpardonable folly might bring him to Cleveland,
308:319,01['  ]| he was not brought there by intoxication, she said, after
308:319,02['  ]| a moment's recollection,
308:319,03[A  ]| "Mr%*Willoughby, you \ought\ to feel, and I certainly
308:319,04[A  ]| \do\ ~~ that after what has passed ~~ your coming here in
308:319,05[A  ]| this manner, and forcing yourself upon my notice,
308:319,06[A  ]| requires a very particular excuse. ~~ What is it, that you
308:319,07[A  ]| mean by it?" ~~
308:319,08[R  ]| "I mean" ~~
308:319,08['  ]| said he, with serious energy ~~
308:319,08[R  ]| "if I can,
308:319,09[R  ]| to make you hate me one degree less than you do \now\.
308:319,10[R  ]| I mean to offer some kind of explanation, some kind of
308:319,11[R  ]| apology, for the past; to open my whole heart to you,
308:319,12[R  ]| and by convincing you, that though I have been always
308:319,13[R  ]| a blockhead, I have not been always a rascal, to obtain
308:319,14[R  ]| something like forgiveness from Ma ~~ from your sister."
308:319,15[A  ]| "Is this the real reason of your coming?"
308:319,16[R  ]| "Upon my soul it is," ~~
308:319,16['  ]| was his answer, with a warmth
308:319,17['  ]| which brought all the former Willoughby to her remembrance,
308:319,18['  ]| and in spite of herself made her think him
308:319,19['  ]| sincere.
308:319,20[A  ]| "If that is all, you may be satisfied already, ~~ for
308:319,21[A  ]| Marianne \does\ ~~ she has \long\ forgiven you."
308:319,22[R  ]| "Has she!" ~~
308:319,22['  ]| he cried, in the same eager tone. ~~
308:319,23[R  ]| "Then she has forgiven me before she ought to have
308:319,24[R  ]| done it.  But she shall forgive me again, and on more
308:319,25[R  ]| reasonable grounds. ~~ \Now\ will you listen to me?"
308:319,26['  ]| Elinor bowed her assent.
308:319,27[R  ]| "I do not know,"
308:319,27['  ]| said he, after a pause of expectation
308:319,28['  ]| on her side, and thoughtfulness on his own, ~~
308:319,28[R  ]| "how
308:319,29[R  ]| \you\ may have accounted for my behaviour to your
308:319,30[R  ]| sister, or what diabolical motive you may have imputed
308:319,31[R  ]| to me. ~~ Perhaps you will hardly think the better of me,
308:319,32[R  ]| ~~ it is worth the trial however, and you shall hear
308:319,33[R  ]| every*thing.  When I first became intimate in your
308:319,34[R  ]| family, I had no other intention, no other view in the
308:319,35[R  ]| acquaintance than to pass my time pleasantly while I
308:319,36[R  ]| was obliged to remain in Devonshire, more pleasantly
308:319,37[R  ]| than I had ever done before.  Your sister's lovely person
308:319,38[R  ]| and interesting manners could not but please me; and her
308:320,01[R  ]| behaviour to me almost from the first, was of a kind ~~
308:320,02[R  ]| It is astonishing, when I reflect on what it was, and what
308:320,03[R  ]| \she\ was, that my heart should have been so insensible! ~~
308:320,04[R  ]| But at first I must confess, my vanity only was elevated
308:320,05[R  ]| by it.  Careless of her happiness, thinking only of my own
308:320,06[R  ]| amusement, giving way to feelings which I had always
308:320,07[R  ]| been too much in the habit of indulging, I endeavoured,
308:320,08[R  ]| by every means in my power, to make myself pleasing to
308:320,09[R  ]| her, without any design of returning her affection."
308:320,10['  ]| Miss*Dashwood at this point, turning her eyes on him
308:320,11['  ]| with the most angry contempt, stopped him, by saying,
308:320,12[A  ]| "It is hardly worth*while, Mr%*Willoughby, for you
308:320,13[A  ]| to relate, or for me to listen any longer.  Such a beginning
308:320,14[A  ]| as this cannot be followed by any*thing. ~~ Do not
308:320,15[A  ]| let me be pained by hearing any*thing more on the
308:320,16[A  ]| subject."
308:320,17[R  ]| "I insist on your hearing the whole of it,"
308:320,17['  ]| he replied.
308:320,18[R  ]| "My fortune was never large, and I had always been
308:320,19[R  ]| expensive, always in the habit of associating with people
308:320,20[R  ]| of better income than myself.  Every year since my
308:320,21[R  ]| coming of age, or even before, I believe, had added to my
308:320,22[R  ]| debts; and though the death of my old cousin, Mrs%*Smith,
308:320,23[R  ]| was to set me free; yet that event being uncertain,
308:320,24[R  ]| and possibly far distant, it had been for some time my
308:320,25[R  ]| intention to re-establish my circumstances by marrying
308:320,26[R  ]| a woman of fortune.  To attach myself to your sister,
308:320,27[R  ]| therefore, was not a thing to be thought of; ~~ and with
308:320,28[R  ]| a meanness, selfishness, cruelty ~~ which no indignant,
308:320,29[R  ]| no contemptuous look, even of yours, Miss*Dashwood,
308:320,30[R  ]| can ever reprobate too much ~~ I was acting in this
308:320,31[R  ]| manner, trying to engage her regard, without a thought
308:320,32[R  ]| of returning it. ~~ But one thing may be said for me,
308:320,33[R  ]| even in that horrid state of selfish vanity, I did not
308:320,34[R  ]| know the extent of the injury I meditated, because I
308:320,35[R  ]| did not \then\ know what it was to love.  But have I ever
308:320,36[R  ]| known it? ~~ Well may it be doubted; for, had I really
308:320,37[R  ]| loved, could I have sacrificed my feelings to vanity,
308:320,38[R  ]| to avarice? ~~ or, what is more, could I have sacrificed
308:321,01[R  ]| her's? ~~ But I have done it.  To avoid a comparative
308:321,02[R  ]| poverty, which her affection and her society would
308:321,03[R  ]| have deprived of all its horrors, I have, by raising
308:321,04[R  ]| myself to affluence, lost every*thing that could make it
308:321,05[R  ]| a blessing."
308:321,06[A  ]| "You did then,"
308:321,06['  ]| said Elinor, a little softened,
308:321,06[A  ]| "believe
308:321,07[A  ]| yourself at one time attached to her."
308:321,08[R  ]| "To have resisted such attractions, to have withstood
308:321,09[R  ]| such tenderness! ~~ Is there a man on earth who could
308:321,10[R  ]| have done it! ~~ Yes, I found myself, by insensible
308:321,11[R  ]| degrees, sincerely fond of her; and the happiest hours
308:321,12[R  ]| of my life were what I spent with her, when I felt my
308:321,13[R  ]| intentions were strictly honourable, and my feelings
308:321,14[R  ]| blameless.  Even \then\, however, when fully determined
308:321,15[R  ]| on paying my addresses to her, I allowed myself most
308:321,16[R  ]| improperly to put off, from day to day, the moment of
308:321,17[R  ]| doing it, from an unwillingness to enter into an engagement
308:321,18[R  ]| while my circumstances were so greatly embarrassed.
308:321,19[R  ]| I will not reason here ~~ nor will I stop for \you\ to expatiate
308:321,20[R  ]| on the absurdity, and the worse than absurdity, of
308:321,21[R  ]| scrupling to engage my faith where my honour was
308:321,22[R  ]| already bound.  The event has proved, that I was
308:321,23[R  ]| a cunning fool, providing with great circumspection for
308:321,24[R  ]| a possible opportunity of making myself contemptible
308:321,25[R  ]| and wretched for*ever.  At last, however, my resolution
308:321,26[R  ]| was taken, and I had determined, as soon as I could
308:321,27[R  ]| engage her alone, to justify the attentions I had so
308:321,28[R  ]| invariably paid her, and openly assure her of an affection
308:321,29[R  ]| which I had already taken such pains to display.  But
308:321,30[R  ]| in the interim ~~ in the interim of the very few hours
308:321,31[R  ]| that were to pass, before I could have an opportunity
308:321,32[R  ]| of speaking with her in private ~~ a circumstance occurred
308:321,33[R  ]| ~~ an unlucky circumstance, to ruin all my resolution, and
308:321,34[R  ]| with it all my comfort.  A discovery took place," ~~
308:321,34['  ]| here
308:321,35['  ]| he hesitated and looked down. ~~
308:321,35[R  ]| "Mrs%*Smith had somehow
308:321,36[R  ]| or other been informed, I imagine by some distant
308:321,37[R  ]| relation, whose interest it was to deprive me of her favour,
308:321,38[R  ]| of an affair, a connection ~~ but I need not explain myself
308:322,01[R  ]| farther,"
308:322,01['  ]| he added, looking at her with an heightened
308:322,02['  ]| colour and an inquiring eye, ~~
308:322,02[R  ]| "your particular intimacy
308:322,03[R  ]| ~~ you have probably heard the whole story long ago."
308:322,04[A  ]| "I have,"
308:322,04['  ]| returned Elinor, colouring likewise, and
308:322,05['  ]| hardening her heart anew against any compassion for
308:322,06['  ]| him,
308:322,06[A  ]| "I have heard it all.  And how you will explain
308:322,07[A  ]| away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business,
308:322,08[A  ]| I confess is beyond my comprehension."
308:322,09[R  ]| "Remember,"
308:322,09['  ]| cried Willoughby,
308:322,09[R  ]| "from whom you
308:322,10[R  ]| received the account.  Could it be an impartial one?
308:322,11[R  ]| I acknowledge that her situation and her character
308:322,12[R  ]| ought to have been respected by me.  I do not mean to
308:322,13[R  ]| justify myself, but at the same time cannot leave you
308:322,14[R  ]| to suppose that I have nothing to urge ~~ that because
308:322,15[R  ]| she was injured she was irreproachable, and because
308:322,16[R  ]| \I\ was a libertine, \she\ must be a saint.  If the violence
308:322,17[R  ]| of her passions, the weakness of her understanding ~~
308:322,18[R  ]| I do not mean, however, to defend myself.  Her affection
308:322,19[R  ]| for me deserved better treatment, and I often, with
308:322,20[R  ]| great self-reproach, recal the tenderness which, for a very
308:322,21[R  ]| short time, had the power of creating any return.  I
308:322,22[R  ]| wish ~~ I heartily wish it had never been.  But I have
308:322,23[R  ]| injured more than herself; and I have injured one,
308:322,24[R  ]| whose affection for me ~~ (may I say it?) was scarcely
308:322,25[R  ]| less warm than her's; and whose mind ~~ Oh! how
308:322,26[R  ]| infinitely superior!" ~~
308:322,27[A  ]| "Your indifference, however, towards that unfortunate
308:322,28[A  ]| girl ~~ I must say it, unpleasant to me as the discussion
308:322,29[A  ]| of such a subject may well be ~~ your indifference
308:322,30[A  ]| is no apology for your cruel neglect of her.  Do not
308:322,31[A  ]| think yourself excused by any weakness, any natural
308:322,32[A  ]| defect of understanding on her side, in the wanton
308:322,33[A  ]| cruelty so evident on yours.  You must have known,
308:322,34[A  ]| that while you were enjoying yourself in Devonshire,
308:322,35[A  ]| pursuing fresh schemes, always gay, always happy, she
308:322,36[A  ]| was reduced to the extremest indigence."
308:322,37[R  ]| "But, upon my soul, I did \not\ know it,"
308:322,37['  ]| he warmly
308:322,38['  ]| replied;
308:322,38[R  ]| "I did not recollect that I had omitted to give
308:323,01[R  ]| her my direction; and common sense might have told
308:323,02[R  ]| her how to find it out."
308:323,03[A  ]| "Well, sir, and what said Mrs%*Smith?"
308:323,04[R  ]| "She taxed me with the offence at once, and my
308:323,05[R  ]| confusion may be guessed.  The purity of her life, the
308:323,06[R  ]| formality of her notions, her ignorance of the world ~~
308:323,07[R  ]| every*thing was against me.  The matter itself I could
308:323,08[R  ]| not deny, and vain was every endeavour to soften it.
308:323,09[R  ]| She was previously disposed, I believe, to doubt the
308:323,10[R  ]| morality of my conduct in general, and was moreover
308:323,11[R  ]| discontented with the very little attention, the very
308:323,12[R  ]| little portion of my time that I had bestowed on her,
308:323,13[R  ]| in my present visit.  In short, it ended in a total breach.
308:323,14[R  ]| By one measure I might have saved myself.  In the
308:323,15[R  ]| height of her morality, good woman! she offered to
308:323,16[R  ]| forgive the past, if I would marry Eliza.  That could not
308:323,17[R  ]| be ~~ and I was formally dismissed from her favour and
308:323,18[R  ]| her house.  The night following this affair ~~ I was to go
308:323,19[R  ]| the next morning ~~ was spent by me in deliberating on
308:323,20[R  ]| what my future conduct should be.  The struggle was
308:323,21[R  ]| great ~~ but it ended too soon.  My affection for Marianne,
308:323,22[R  ]| my thorough conviction of her attachment to me ~~ it
308:323,23[R  ]| was all insufficient to outweigh that dread of poverty,
308:323,24[R  ]| or get the better of those false ideas of the necessity
308:323,25[R  ]| of riches, which I was naturally inclined to feel, and
308:323,26[R  ]| expensive society had increased.  I had reason to believe
308:323,27[R  ]| myself secure of my present wife, if I chose to address
308:323,28[R  ]| her, and I persuaded myself to think that nothing else
308:323,29[R  ]| in common prudence remained for me to do.  An heavy
308:323,30[R  ]| scene however awaited me, before I could leave Devonshire;
308:323,31[R  ]| ~~ I was engaged to dine with you on that very
308:323,32[R  ]| day; some apology was therefore necessary for my
308:323,33[R  ]| breaking the engagement.  But whether I should write
308:323,34[R  ]| this apology, or deliver it in person, was a point of long
308:323,35[R  ]| debate.  To see Marianne, I felt would be dreadful, and
308:323,36[R  ]| I even doubted whether I could see her again, and keep
308:323,37[R  ]| to my resolution.  In that point, however, I undervalued
308:323,38[R  ]| my own magnanimity, as the event declared; for I went,
308:324,01[R  ]| I saw her, and saw her miserable, and left her miserable
308:324,02[R  ]| ~~ and left her hoping never to see her again."
308:324,03[A  ]| "Why did you call, Mr%*Willoughby?"
308:324,03['  ]| said Elinor,
308:324,04['  ]| reproachfully;
308:324,04[A  ]| "a note would have answered every
308:324,05[A  ]| purpose. ~~ Why was it necessary to call?"
308:324,06[R  ]| "It was necessary to my own pride.  I could not bear
308:324,07[R  ]| to leave the country in a manner that might lead you,
308:324,08[R  ]| or the rest of the neighbourhood, to suspect any part
308:324,09[R  ]| of what had really passed between Mrs%*Smith and
308:324,10[R  ]| myself ~~ and I resolved therefore on calling at the cottage,
308:324,11[R  ]| in my way to Honiton.  The sight of your dear sister,
308:324,12[R  ]| however, was really dreadful; and to heighten the
308:324,13[R  ]| matter, I found her alone.  You were all gone I do not
308:324,14[R  ]| know where.  I had left her only the evening before, so
308:324,15[R  ]| fully, so firmly resolved within myself on doing right!
308:324,16[R  ]| A few hours were to have engaged her to me for*ever;
308:324,17[R  ]| and I remember how happy, how gay were my spirits,
308:324,18[R  ]| as I walked from the cottage to Allenham, satisfied with
308:324,19[R  ]| myself, delighted with every*body!  But in this, our last
308:324,20[R  ]| interview of friendship, I approached her with a sense
308:324,21[R  ]| of guilt that almost took from me the power of dissembling.
308:324,22[R  ]| Her sorrow, her disappointment, her deep regret,
308:324,23[R  ]| when I told her that I was obliged to leave Devonshire
308:324,24[R  ]| so immediately ~~ I never shall forget it ~~ united too with
308:324,25[R  ]| such reliance, such confidence in me! ~~ Oh, God! ~~ what
308:324,26[R  ]| an hard-hearted rascal I was!"
308:324,27['  ]| They were both silent for a few moments.  Elinor
308:324,28['  ]| first spoke.
308:324,29[A  ]| "Did you tell her that you should soon return?"
308:324,30[R  ]| "I do not know what I told her,"
308:324,30['  ]| he replied, impatiently;
308:324,31[R  ]| "less than was due to the past, beyond a
308:324,32[R  ]| doubt, and in all likelihood much more than was justified
308:324,33[R  ]| by the future.  I cannot think of it. ~~ It won't do. ~~ Then
308:324,34[R  ]| came your dear mother to torture me farther, with all
308:324,35[R  ]| her kindness and confidence.  Thank Heaven! it \did\
308:324,36[R  ]| torture me.  I was miserable.  Miss*Dashwood, you
308:324,37[R  ]| cannot have an idea of the comfort it gives me to look
308:324,38[R  ]| back on my own misery.  I owe such a grudge to myself
308:325,01[R  ]| for the stupid, rascally folly of my own heart, that all
308:325,02[R  ]| my past sufferings under it are only triumph and exultation
308:325,03[R  ]| to me now.  Well, I went, left all that I loved, and
308:325,04[R  ]| went to those to whom, at best, I was only indifferent.
308:325,05[R  ]| My journey to town ~~ travelling with my own horses,
308:325,06[R  ]| and therefore so tediously ~~ no creature to speak to ~~ my
308:325,07[R  ]| own reflections so cheerful ~~ when I looked forward everything
308:325,08[R  ]| so inviting! ~~ when I looked back at Barton, the
308:325,09[R  ]| picture so soothing! ~~ oh! it was a blessed journey!"
308:325,10['  ]| He stopt.
308:325,11[A  ]| "Well, sir,"
308:325,11['  ]| said Elinor, who, though pitying him,
308:325,12['  ]| grew impatient for his departure,
308:325,12[A  ]| "and this is all?"
308:325,13[R  ]| "All! ~~ no, ~~ have you forgot what passed in town?
308:325,14[R  ]| ~~ That infamous letter ~~ Did she shew it you?"
308:325,15[A  ]| "Yes, I saw every note that passed."
308:325,16[R  ]| "When the first of her's reached me, (as it immediately
308:325,17[R  ]| did, for I was in town the whole time,) what I felt is ~~
308:325,18[R  ]| in the common phrase, not to be expressed; in a more
308:325,19[R  ]| simple one ~~ perhaps too simple to raise any emotion ~~
308:325,20[R  ]| my feelings were very, very painful. ~~ Every line, every
308:325,21[R  ]| word was ~~ in the hackneyed metaphor which their dear
308:325,22[R  ]| writer, were she here, would forbid ~~ a dagger to my
308:325,23[R  ]| heart.  To know that Marianne was in town was ~~ in
308:325,24[R  ]| the same language ~~ a thunderbolt. ~~ Thunderbolts and
308:325,25[R  ]| daggers! ~~ what a reproof would she have given
308:325,26[R  ]| me! ~~ her taste, her opinions ~~ I believe they are better
308:325,27[R  ]| known to me than my own, ~~ and I am sure they are
308:325,28[R  ]| dearer."
308:325,29['  ]| Elinor's heart, which had undergone many changes
308:325,30['  ]| in the course of this extraordinary conversation, was
308:325,31['  ]| now softened again; ~~ yet she felt it her duty to check
308:325,32['  ]| such ideas in her companion as the last.
308:325,33[A  ]| "This is not right, Mr%*Willoughby. ~~ Remember that
308:325,34[A  ]| you are married.  Relate only what in your conscience
308:325,35[A  ]| you think necessary for me to hear."
308:325,36[R  ]| "Marianne's note, by assuring me that I was still as
308:325,37[R  ]| dear to her as in former days, that in spite of the many,
308:325,38[R  ]| many weeks we had been separated, she was as constant
308:326,01[R  ]| in her own feelings, and as full of faith in the constancy
308:326,02[R  ]| of mine as ever, awakened all my remorse.  I say
308:326,03[R  ]| awakened, because time and London, business and
308:326,04[R  ]| dissipation, had in some measure quieted it, and I had
308:326,05[R  ]| been growing a fine hardened villain, fancying myself
308:326,06[R  ]| indifferent to her, and chusing to fancy that she too
308:326,07[R  ]| must have become indifferent to me; talking to myself
308:326,08[R  ]| of our past attachment as a mere idle, trifling, business,
308:326,09[R  ]| shrugging up my shoulders in proof of its being so, and
308:326,10[R  ]| silencing every reproach, overcoming every scruple, by
308:326,11[R  ]| secretly saying now and then, ""I shall be heartily glad
308:326,12[R  ]| to hear she is well married."" ~~ But this note made me
308:326,13[R  ]| know myself better.  I felt that she was infinitely dearer
308:326,14[R  ]| to me than any other woman in the world, and that I was
308:326,15[R  ]| using her infamously.  But everything was then just
308:326,16[R  ]| settled between Miss*Grey and me.  To retreat was impossible.
308:326,17[R  ]| All that I had to do, was to avoid you both.
308:326,18[R  ]| I sent no answer to Marianne, intending by that means
308:326,19[R  ]| to preserve myself from her farther notice; and for
308:326,20[R  ]| some time I was even determined not to call in Berkeley-street;
308:326,21[R  ]| ~~ but at last, judging it wiser to affect the air of
308:326,22[R  ]| a cool, common acquaintance than anything else, I
308:326,23[R  ]| watched you all safely out of the house one morning, and
308:326,24[R  ]| left my name."
308:326,25[A  ]| "Watched us out of the house!"
308:326,26[R  ]| "Even so.  You would be surprised to hear how often
308:326,27[R  ]| I watched you, how often I was on the point of falling
308:326,28[R  ]| in with you.  I have entered many a shop to avoid your
308:326,29[R  ]| sight, as the carriage drove by.  Lodging as I did in
308:326,30[R  ]| Bond-street, there was hardly a day in which I did not
308:326,31[R  ]| catch a glimpse of one or other of you; and nothing
308:326,32[R  ]| but the most constant watchfulness on my side, a most
308:326,33[R  ]| invariably prevailing desire to keep out of your sight,
308:326,34[R  ]| could have separated us so long.  I avoided the Middletons
308:326,35[R  ]| as much as possible, as well as everybody else who
308:326,36[R  ]| was likely to prove an acquaintance in common.  Not
308:326,37[R  ]| aware of their being in town, however, I blundered on
308:326,38[R  ]| Sir*John, I believe, the first day of his coming, and the
308:327,01[R  ]| day after I had called at Mrs%*Jennings's.  He asked me to
308:327,02[R  ]| a party, a dance at his house in the evening. ~~ Had he
308:327,03[R  ]| \not\ told me as an inducement that you and your sister
308:327,04[R  ]| were to be there, I should have felt it too certain a thing,
308:327,05[R  ]| to trust myself near him.  The next morning brought
308:327,06[R  ]| another short note from Marianne ~~ still affectionate,
308:327,07[R  ]| open, artless, confiding ~~ everything that could make
308:327,08[R  ]| \my\ conduct most hateful.  I could not answer it.  I tried
308:327,09[R  ]| ~~ but could not frame a sentence.  But I thought of her,
308:327,10[R  ]| I believe, every moment of the day.  If you \can\ pity me,
308:327,11[R  ]| Miss*Dashwood, pity my situation as it was \then\.  With
308:327,12[R  ]| my head and heart full of your sister, I was forced to play
308:327,13[R  ]| the happy lover to another woman! ~~ Those three or
308:327,14[R  ]| four weeks were worse than all.  Well, at last, as I need
308:327,15[R  ]| not tell you, you were forced on me; and what a sweet
308:327,16[R  ]| figure I cut! ~~ what an evening of agony it was! ~~
308:327,17[R  ]| Marianne, beautiful as an angel on one side, calling me
308:327,18[R  ]| Willoughby in such a tone! ~~ Oh! God! ~~ holding out
308:327,19[R  ]| her hand to me, asking me for an explanation with those
308:327,20[R  ]| bewitching eyes fixed in such speaking solicitude on my
308:327,21[R  ]| face! ~~ and Sophia, jealous as the devil on the other
308:327,22[R  ]| hand, looking all that was ~~ Well, it does not signify;
308:327,23[R  ]| it is over now.  ~~ Such an evening! ~~ I ran away from
308:327,24[R  ]| you all as soon as I could; but not before I had seen
308:327,25[R  ]| Marianne's sweet face as white as death. ~~ \That\ was the
308:327,26[R  ]| last, last look I ever had of her; ~~ the last manner in
308:327,27[R  ]| which she appeared to me.  It was a horrid sight! ~~
308:327,28[R  ]| Yet when I thought of her to-day as really dying, it was
308:327,29[R  ]| a kind of comfort to me to imagine that I knew exactly
308:327,30[R  ]| how she would appear to those, who saw her last in this
308:327,31[R  ]| world.  She was before me, constantly before me, as
308:327,32[R  ]| I travelled, in the same look and hue."
308:327,33['  ]| A short pause of mutual thoughtfulness succeeded.
308:327,34['  ]| Willoughby first rousing himself, broke it thus:
308:327,35[R  ]| "Well, let me make haste and be gone.  Your sister
308:327,36[R  ]| is certainly better, certainly out of danger?"
308:327,37[A  ]| "We are assured of it."
308:327,38[R  ]| "Your poor mother too! ~~ doting on Marianne."
308:328,01[A  ]| "But the letter, Mr%*Willoughby, your own letter;
308:328,02[A  ]| have you anything to say about that?"
308:328,03[R  ]| "Yes, yes, \that\ in particular.  Your sister wrote to
308:328,04[R  ]| me again, you know, the very next morning.  You saw
308:328,05[R  ]| what she said.  I was breakfasting at the Ellisons, ~~ and
308:328,06[R  ]| her letter, with some others, was brought to me there
308:328,07[R  ]| from my lodgings.  It happened to catch Sophia's eye
308:328,08[R  ]| before it caught mine ~~ and its size, the elegance of the
308:328,09[R  ]| paper, the hand-writing altogether, immediately gave
308:328,10[R  ]| her a suspicion.  Some vague report had reached her
308:328,11[R  ]| before of my attachment to some young lady in Devonshire,
308:328,12[R  ]| and what had passed within her observation the
308:328,13[R  ]| preceding evening had marked who the young lady
308:328,14[R  ]| was, and made her more jealous than ever.  Affecting
308:328,15[R  ]| that air of playfulness, therefore, which is delightful in
308:328,16[R  ]| a woman one loves, she opened the letter directly, and
308:328,17[R  ]| read its contents.  She was well paid for her impudence.
308:328,18[R  ]| She read what made her wretched.  Her wretchedness
308:328,19[R  ]| I could have borne, but her passion ~~ her malice ~~ At
308:328,20[R  ]| all events it must be appeased.  And in short ~~ what do
308:328,21[R  ]| you think of my wife's style of letter-writing? ~~ delicate
308:328,22[R  ]| ~~ tender ~~ truly feminine ~~ was it not?"
308:328,23[A  ]| "Your wife! ~~ The letter was in your own hand-writing."
308:328,24[A  ]|
308:328,25[R  ]| "Yes, but I had only the credit of servilely copying such
308:328,26[R  ]| sentences as I was ashamed to put my name to.  The
308:328,27[R  ]| original was all her own ~~ her own happy thoughts and
308:328,28[R  ]| gentle diction.  But what could I do? ~~ we were engaged,
308:328,29[R  ]| every*thing in preparation, the day almost fixed ~~ But I
308:328,30[R  ]| am talking like a fool.  Preparation! ~~ day! ~~ In honest
308:328,31[R  ]| words, her money was necessary to me, and in a situation
308:328,32[R  ]| like mine, any*thing was to be done to prevent a rupture.
308:328,33[R  ]| And after all, what did it signify to my character in the
308:328,34[R  ]| opinion of Marianne and her friends, in what language
308:328,35[R  ]| my answer was couched? ~~ It must have been only to one
308:328,36[R  ]| end.  My business was to declare myself a scoundrel, and
308:328,37[R  ]| whether I did it with a bow or a bluster was of little
308:328,38[R  ]| importance. ~~ ""I am ruined for*ever in their opinion ~~
308:329,01[R  ]| said I to myself ~~ I am shut out for*ever from their
308:329,02[R  ]| society, they already think me an unprincipled fellow,
308:329,03[R  ]| this letter will only make them think me a blackguard
308:329,04[R  ]| one."" Such were my reasonings, as, in a sort of desperate
308:329,05[R  ]| carelessness, I copied my wife's words, and parted with
308:329,06[R  ]| the last relics of Marianne.  Her three notes ~~ unluckily
308:329,07[R  ]| they were all in my pocket-book, or I should have denied
308:329,08[R  ]| their existence, and hoarded them for*ever ~~ I was forced
308:329,09[R  ]| to put them up, and could not even kiss them.  And
308:329,10[R  ]| the lock of hair ~~ that too I had always carried about
308:329,11[R  ]| me in the same pocket-book, which was now searched
308:329,12[R  ]| by Madam with the most ingratiating virulence, ~~ the
308:329,13[R  ]| dear lock ~~ all, every memento was torn from me."
308:329,14[A  ]| "You are very wrong, Mr%*Willoughby, very blameable,"
308:329,15['  ]| said Elinor, while her voice, in spite of herself,
308:329,16['  ]| betrayed her compassionate emotion;
308:329,16[A  ]| "you ought not
308:329,17[A  ]| to speak in this way, either of Mrs%*Willoughby or my
308:329,18[A  ]| sister.  You have made your own choice.  It was not
308:329,19[A  ]| forced on you.  Your wife has a claim to your politeness,
308:329,20[A  ]| to your respect, at least.  She must be attached to you,
308:329,21[A  ]| or she would not have married you.  To treat her with
308:329,22[A  ]| unkindness, to speak of her slightingly is no atonement
308:329,23[A  ]| to Marianne ~~ nor can I suppose it a relief to your own
308:329,24[A  ]| conscience."
308:329,25[R  ]| "Do not talk to me of my wife,"
308:329,25['  ]| said he with an
308:329,26['  ]| heavy sigh. ~~
308:329,26[R  ]| "She does not deserve your compassion. ~~
308:329,27[R  ]| She knew I had no regard for her when we married. ~~
308:329,28[R  ]| Well, married we were, and came down to Combe*Magna
308:329,29[R  ]| to be happy, and afterwards returned to town
308:329,30[R  ]| to be gay. ~~ And now do you pity me, Miss*Dashwood?
308:329,31[R  ]| ~~ or have I said all this to no purpose? ~~ Am I ~~
308:329,32[R  ]| be it only one degree ~~ am I less guilty in your
308:329,33[R  ]| opinion than I was before? ~~ My intentions were not
308:329,34[R  ]| always wrong.  Have I explained away any part of my
308:329,35[R  ]| guilt?"
308:329,36[A  ]| "Yes, you have certainly removed something ~~ a little.
308:329,37[A  ]| ~~ You have proved yourself, on the whole, less faulty
308:329,38[A  ]| than I had believed you.  You have proved your heart
308:330,01[A  ]| less wicked, much less wicked.  But I hardly know ~~
308:330,02[A  ]| the misery that you have inflicted ~~ I hardly know what
308:330,03[A  ]| could have made it worse."
308:330,04[R  ]| "Will you repeat to your sister when she is recovered,
308:330,05[R  ]| what I have been telling you? ~~ Let me be a little
308:330,06[R  ]| lightened too in her opinion as well as in yours.  You
308:330,07[R  ]| tell me that she has forgiven me already.  Let me be
308:330,08[R  ]| able to fancy that a better knowledge of my heart, and
308:330,09[R  ]| of my present feelings, will draw from her a more spontaneous,
308:330,10[R  ]| more natural, more gentle, less dignified, forgiveness.
308:330,11[R  ]| Tell her of my misery and my penitence ~~ tell her
308:330,12[R  ]| that my heart was never inconstant to her, and if you
308:330,13[R  ]| will, that at this moment she is dearer to me than ever."
308:330,14[A  ]| "I will tell her all that is necessary to what may
308:330,15[A  ]| comparatively be called, your justification.  But you
308:330,16[A  ]| have not explained to me the particular reason of your
308:330,17[A  ]| coming now, nor how you heard of her illness."
308:330,18[R  ]| "Last night, in Drury-lane lobby, I ran against Sir*John*Middleton,
308:330,19[R  ]| and when he saw who I was ~~ for the
308:330,20[R  ]| first time these two months ~~ he spoke to me. ~~ That he
308:330,21[R  ]| had cut me ever since my marriage, I had seen without
308:330,22[R  ]| surprise or resentment.  Now, however, his good-natured,
308:330,23[R  ]| honest, stupid soul, full of indignation against
308:330,24[R  ]| me, and concern for your sister, could not resist the
308:330,25[R  ]| temptation of telling me what he knew ought to ~~ though
308:330,26[R  ]| probably he did not think it \would\ ~~ vex me horridly. ~~
308:330,27[R  ]| As bluntly as he could speak it, therefore, he told me that
308:330,28[R  ]| Marianne*Dashwood was dying of a putrid fever at Cleveland ~~
308:330,29[R  ]| a letter that morning received from Mrs%*Jennings
308:330,30[R  ]| declared her danger most imminent ~~ the Palmers all
308:330,31[R  ]| gone off in a fright, &c% ~~ I was too much shocked to
308:330,32[R  ]| be able to pass myself off as insensible even to the
308:330,33[R  ]| undiscerning Sir*John.  His heart was softened in seeing
308:330,34[R  ]| mine suffer; and so much of his ill-will was done away,
308:330,35[R  ]| that when we parted, he almost shook me by the hand
308:330,36[R  ]| while he reminded me of an old promise about a pointer
308:330,37[R  ]| puppy.  What I felt on hearing that your sister was
308:330,38[R  ]| dying ~~ and dying too, believing me the greatest villain
308:331,01[R  ]| upon earth, scorning, hating me in her latest moments ~~
308:331,02[R  ]| for how could I tell what horrid projects might not have
308:331,03[R  ]| been imputed?  \One\ person I was sure would represent
308:331,04[R  ]| me as capable of anything ~~ what I felt was dreadful! ~~
308:331,05[R  ]| My resolution was soon made, and at eight o'clock
308:331,06[R  ]| this morning I was in my carriage.  Now you know
308:331,07[R  ]| all."
308:331,08['  ]| Elinor made no answer.  Her thoughts were silently
308:331,09['  ]| fixed on
308:331,09@a   | the irreparable injury which too early an independence
308:331,10@a   | and its consequent habits of idleness, dissipation,
308:331,11@a   | and luxury, had made in the mind, the character,
308:331,12@a   | the happiness, of a man who, to every advantage of
308:331,13@a   | person and talents, united a disposition naturally open
308:331,14@a   | and honest, and a feeling, affectionate temper.  The
308:331,15@a   | world had made him extravagant and vain ~~ Extravagance
308:331,16@a   | and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish.
308:331,17@a   | Vanity, while seeking its own guilty triumph at the
308:331,18@a   | expense of another, had involved him in a real attachment,
308:331,19@a   | which extravagance, or at least its offspring, necessity,
308:331,20@a   | had required to be sacrificed.  Each faulty propensity
308:331,21@a   | in leading him to evil, had led him likewise to punishment.
308:331,22@a   | The attachment, from which against honour,
308:331,23@a   | against feeling, against every better interest he had
308:331,24@a   | outwardly torn himself, now, when no longer allowable,
308:331,25@a   | governed every thought; and the connection, for the sake
308:331,26@a   | of which he had, with little scruple, left her sister to misery,
308:331,27@a   | was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to himself of a
308:331,28@a   | far more incurable nature.
308:331,28['  ]| From a reverie of this kind she
308:331,29['  ]| was recalled at the end of some minutes by Willoughby,
308:331,30['  ]| who, rousing himself from a reverie at least equally
308:331,31['  ]| painful, started up in preparation for going, and said,
308:331,32[R  ]| "There is no use in staying here; I must be off."
308:331,33[A  ]| "Are you going back to town?"
308:331,34[R  ]| "No ~~ to Combe*Magna.  I have business there;
308:331,35[R  ]| from thence to town in a day or two.  Good*bye."
308:331,36['  ]| He held out his hand.  She could not refuse to give
308:331,37['  ]| him her's; ~~ he pressed it with affection.
308:331,38[R  ]| "And you \do\ think something better of me than you
308:332,01[R  ]| did?" ~~
308:332,01['  ]| said he, letting it fall, and leaning against the
308:332,02['  ]| mantle-piece as if forgetting he was to go.
308:332,03['  ]| Elinor assured him that she did; ~~ that she forgave,
308:332,04['  ]| pitied, wished him well ~~ was even interested in his
308:332,05['  ]| happiness ~~ and added some gentle counsel as to the
308:332,06['  ]| behaviour most likely to promote it.  His answer was
308:332,07['  ]| not very encouraging.
308:332,08[R  ]| "As to that,"
308:332,08['  ]| said he,
308:332,08[R  ]| "I must rub through the world
308:332,09[R  ]| as well as I can.  Domestic happiness is out of the
308:332,10[R  ]| question.  If, however, I am allowed to think that you
308:332,11[R  ]| and yours feel an interest in my fate and actions, it may
308:332,12[R  ]| be the means ~~ it may put me on my guard ~~ at least, it
308:332,13[R  ]| will be something to live for.  Marianne to be sure is
308:332,14[R  ]| lost to me for*ever.  Were I even by any blessed chance
308:332,15[R  ]| at liberty again" ~~
308:332,16['  ]| Elinor stopped him with a reproof.
308:332,17[R  ]| "Well" ~~
308:332,17['  ]| he replied ~~
308:332,17[R  ]| "once more good*bye.  I shall
308:332,18[R  ]| now go away and live in dread of one event."
308:332,19[A  ]| "What do you mean?"
308:332,20[R  ]| "Your sister's marriage."
308:332,21[A  ]| "You are very wrong.  She can never be more lost to
308:332,22[A  ]| you than she is now."
308:332,23[R  ]| "But she will be gained by some*one else.  And if that
308:332,24[R  ]| some*one should be the very he whom, of all others,
308:332,25[R  ]| I could least bear ~~ But I will not stay to rob myself
308:332,26[R  ]| of all your compassionate good-will, by shewing that
308:332,27[R  ]| where I have most injured I can least forgive.  Good*bye, ~~
308:332,28[R  ]| God bless you!"
308:332,29['  ]| And with these words, he almost ran out of the room.
309:333,01['  ]| Elinor, for some time after he left her, for some time
309:333,02['  ]| even after the sound of his carriage had died away,
309:333,03['  ]| remained too much oppressed by a croud of ideas, widely
309:333,04['  ]| differing in themselves, but of which sadness was the
309:333,05['  ]| general result, to think even of her sister.
309:333,06['  ]| Willoughby, he, whom only half an hour ago she had
309:333,07['  ]| abhorred as the most worthless of men, Willoughby, in
309:333,08['  ]| spite of all his faults, excited a degree of commiseration
309:333,09['  ]| for the sufferings produced by them, which made her
309:333,10['  ]| think of him as now separated for*ever from her family
309:333,11['  ]| with a tenderness, a regret, rather in proportion, as she
309:333,12['  ]| soon acknowledged within herself ~~ to his wishes than
309:333,13['  ]| to his merits.  She felt that his influence over her mind
309:333,14['  ]| was heightened by circumstances which ought not in
309:333,15['  ]| reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon
309:333,16['  ]| attraction, that open, affectionate, and lively manner
309:333,17['  ]| which it was no merit to possess; and by that still
309:333,18['  ]| ardent love for Marianne, which it was not even innocent
309:333,19['  ]| to indulge.  But she felt that it was so, long, long before
309:333,20['  ]| she could feel his influence less.
309:333,21['  ]| When at last she returned to the unconscious Marianne,
309:333,22['  ]| she found her just awaking, refreshed by so long and
309:333,23['  ]| sweet a sleep to the extent of her hopes.  Elinor's heart
309:333,24['  ]| was full.  The past, the present, the future, Willoughby's
309:333,25['  ]| visit, Marianne's safety, and her mother's expected
309:333,26['  ]| arrival, threw her altogether into an agitation of spirits
309:333,27['  ]| which kept off every indication of fatigue, and made her
309:333,28['  ]| only fearful of betraying herself to her sister.  Short was
309:333,29['  ]| the time, however, in which that fear could affect her,
309:333,30['  ]| for within half an hour after Willoughby's leaving the
309:333,31['  ]| house, she was again called down*stairs by the sound
309:333,32['  ]| of another carriage. ~~ Eager to save her mother from
309:333,33['  ]| every unnecessary moment's horrible suspense, she ran
309:334,01['  ]| immediately into the hall, and reached the outward door
309:334,02['  ]| just in time to receive and support her as she entered it.
309:334,03['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood, whose terror as they drew near the
309:334,04['  ]| house had produced almost the conviction of Marianne's
309:334,05['  ]| being no more, had no voice to inquire after her, no
309:334,06['  ]| voice even for Elinor; but \she\, waiting neither for salutation
309:334,07['  ]| nor inquiry, instantly gave the joyful relief; ~~ and her
309:334,08['  ]| mother, catching it with all her usual warmth, was in a
309:334,09['  ]| moment as much overcome by her happiness, as she had
309:334,10['  ]| been before by her fears.  She was supported into the
309:334,11['  ]| drawing-room between her daughter and her friend; ~~
309:334,12['  ]| and there, shedding tears of joy, though still unable to
309:334,13['  ]| speak, embraced Elinor again and again, turning from
309:334,14['  ]| her at intervals to press Colonel*Brandon's hand, with
309:334,15['  ]| a look which spoke at once her gratitude, and her conviction
309:334,16['  ]| of his sharing with herself in the bliss of the
309:334,17['  ]| moment.  He shared it, however, in a silence even greater
309:334,18['  ]| than her own.
309:334,19['  ]| As soon as Mrs%*Dashwood had recovered herself, to
309:334,20['  ]| see Marianne was her first desire; and in two minutes
309:334,21['  ]| she was with her beloved child, rendered dearer to her
309:334,22['  ]| than ever by absence, unhappiness, and danger.  Elinor's
309:334,23['  ]| delight, as she saw what each felt in the meeting, was
309:334,24['  ]| only checked by an apprehension of its robbing Marianne
309:334,25['  ]| of farther sleep; ~~ but Mrs%*Dashwood could be calm,
309:334,26['  ]| could be even prudent, when the life of a child was at
309:334,27['  ]| stake, and Marianne, satisfied in knowing her mother
309:334,28['  ]| was near her, and conscious of being too weak for conversation,
309:334,29['  ]| submitted readily to the silence and quiet
309:334,30['  ]| prescribed by every nurse around her.  Mrs%*Dashwood
309:334,31['  ]| \would\ sit up with her all night, and Elinor, in compliance
309:334,32['  ]| with her mother's entreaty, went to bed.  But the rest,
309:334,33['  ]| which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours of
309:334,34['  ]| the most wearing anxiety seemed to make requisite,
309:334,35['  ]| was kept off by irritation of spirits.  Willoughby,
309:334,35@a   | "poor
309:334,36@a   | Willoughby,"
309:334,36['  ]| as she now allowed herself to call him,
309:334,37['  ]| was constantly in her thoughts; she would not but
309:334,38['  ]| have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed,
309:335,01['  ]| now acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly
309:335,02['  ]| before.  But her promise of relating it to her sister was
309:335,03['  ]| invariably painful.  She dreaded the performance of it,
309:335,04['  ]| dreaded what its effect on Marianne might be; doubted
309:335,05['  ]| whether after such an explanation she could ever be
309:335,06['  ]| happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby
309:335,07['  ]| a widower.  Then, remembering Colonel*Brandon,
309:335,08['  ]| reproved herself, felt that to \his\ sufferings and \his\
309:335,09['  ]| constancy far more than to his rival's, the reward of
309:335,10['  ]| her sister was due, and wished any*thing rather than
309:335,11['  ]| Mrs%*Willoughby's death.
309:335,12['  ]| The shock of Colonel*Brandon's errand at Barton had
309:335,13['  ]| been much softened to Mrs%*Dashwood by her own
309:335,14['  ]| previous alarm; for so great was her uneasiness about
309:335,15['  ]| Marianne, that she had already determined to set out
309:335,16['  ]| for Cleveland on that very day, without waiting for any
309:335,17['  ]| farther intelligence, and had so far settled her journey
309:335,18['  ]| before his arrival, that the Careys were then expected
309:335,19['  ]| every moment to fetch Margaret away, as her mother
309:335,20['  ]| was unwilling to take her where there might be infection.
309:335,21['  ]| Marianne continued to mend every day, and the
309:335,22['  ]| brilliant cheerfulness of Mrs%*Dashwood's looks and
309:335,23['  ]| spirits proved her to be, as she repeatedly declared herself,
309:335,24@d   | one of the happiest women in the world.
309:335,24['  ]| Elinor
309:335,25['  ]| could not hear the declaration, nor witness its proofs
309:335,26['  ]| without sometimes wondering whether her mother
309:335,27['  ]| ever recollected Edward.  But Mrs%*Dashwood, trusting
309:335,28['  ]| to the temperate account of her own disappointment
309:335,29['  ]| which Elinor had sent her, was led away by the exuberance
309:335,30['  ]| of her joy to think only of what would increase
309:335,31['  ]| it.  Marianne was restored to her from a danger in
309:335,32['  ]| which, as she now began to feel, her own mistaken
309:335,33['  ]| judgment in encouraging the unfortunate attachment
309:335,34['  ]| to Willoughby, had contributed to place her; ~~ and
309:335,35['  ]| in her recovery she had yet another source of joy unthought
309:335,36['  ]| of by Elinor.  It was thus imparted to her, as
309:335,37['  ]| soon as any opportunity of private conference between
309:335,38['  ]| them occurred.
309:336,01[D  ]| "At last we are alone.  My Elinor, you do not yet
309:336,02[D  ]| know all my happiness.  Colonel*Brandon loves Marianne.
309:336,03[D  ]| He has told me so himself."
309:336,04['  ]| Her daughter, feeling by turns both pleased and
309:336,05['  ]| pained, surprised and not surprised, was all silent
309:336,06['  ]| attention.
309:336,07[D  ]| "You are never like me, dear Elinor, or I should
309:336,08[D  ]| wonder at your composure now.  Had I sat down to
309:336,09[D  ]| wish for any possible good to my family, I should have
309:336,10[D  ]| fixed on Colonel*Brandon's marrying one of you as the
309:336,11[D  ]| object most desirable.  And I believe Marianne will be
309:336,12[D  ]| the most happy with him of the two."
309:336,13['  ]| Elinor was half inclined to ask her reason for thinking
309:336,14['  ]| so, because satisfied that none founded on an impartial
309:336,15['  ]| consideration of their age, characters, or feelings, could
309:336,16['  ]| be given; ~~ but her mother must always be carried away
309:336,17['  ]| by her imagination on any interesting subject, and
309:336,18['  ]| therefore instead of an inquiry, she passed it off with
309:336,19['  ]| a smile.
309:336,20[D  ]| "He opened his whole heart to me yesterday as we
309:336,21[D  ]| travelled.  It came out quite unawares, quite undesignedly.
309:336,22[D  ]| I, you may well believe, could talk of nothing
309:336,23[D  ]| but my child; ~~ he could not conceal his distress; I saw
309:336,24[D  ]| that it equalled my own, and he perhaps, thinking that
309:336,25[D  ]| mere friendship, as the world now goes, would not justify
309:336,26[D  ]| so warm a sympathy ~~ or rather not thinking at all, I
309:336,27[D  ]| suppose ~~ giving way to irresistible feelings, made me
309:336,28[D  ]| acquainted with his earnest, tender, constant, affection
309:336,29[D  ]| for Marianne.  He has loved her, my Elinor, ever since
309:336,30[D  ]| the first moment of  seeing her."
309:336,31['  ]| Here, however, Elinor perceived, ~~ not the language,
309:336,32['  ]| not the professions of Colonel*Brandon, but the natural
309:336,33['  ]| embellishments of her mother's active fancy, which
309:336,34['  ]| fashioned every*thing delightful to her, as it chose.
309:336,35[D  ]| "His regard for her, infinitely surpassing anything
309:336,36[D  ]| that Willoughby ever felt or feigned, as much more
309:336,37[D  ]| warm, as more sincere or constant ~~ which*ever we are
309:336,38[D  ]| to call it ~~ has subsisted through all the knowledge of
309:337,01[D  ]| dear Marianne's unhappy prepossession for that worthless
309:337,02[D  ]| young man! ~~ and without selfishness ~~ without
309:337,03[D  ]| encouraging a hope! ~~ could he have seen her unhappy
309:337,04[D  ]| with another ~~ Such a noble mind! ~~ such openness,
309:337,05[D  ]| such sincerity! ~~ no*one can be deceived in \him\."
309:337,06[A  ]| "Colonel*Brandon's character,"
309:337,06['  ]| said Elinor,
309:337,06[A  ]| "as an
309:337,07[A  ]| excellent man, is well established."
309:337,08[D  ]| "I know it is" ~~
309:337,08['  ]| replied her mother seriously,
309:337,08[D  ]| "or after
309:337,09[D  ]| such a warning, \I\ should be the last to encourage such
309:337,10[D  ]| affection, or even to be pleased by it.  But his coming
309:337,11[D  ]| for me as he did, with such active, such ready friendship,
309:337,12[D  ]| is enough to prove him one of the worthiest of men."
309:337,13[A  ]| "His character, however,"
309:337,13['  ]| answered Elinor,
309:337,13[A  ]| "does
309:337,14[A  ]| not rest on \one\ act of kindness, to which his affection for
309:337,15[A  ]| Marianne, were humanity out of the case, would have
309:337,16[A  ]| prompted him.  To Mrs%*Jennings, to the Middletons,
309:337,17[A  ]| he has been long and intimately known; they equally
309:337,18[A  ]| love and respect him; and even my own knowledge of
309:337,19[A  ]| him, though lately acquired, is very considerable; and
309:337,20[A  ]| so highly do \I\ value and esteem him, that if Marianne
309:337,21[A  ]| can be happy with him, I shall be as ready as yourself
309:337,22[A  ]| to think our connection the greatest blessing to us in the
309:337,23[A  ]| world.  What answer did you give him? ~~ Did you allow
309:337,24[A  ]| him to hope?"
309:337,25[D  ]| "Oh! my love, I could not then talk of hope to him
309:337,26[D  ]| or to myself.  Marianne might at that moment be dying.
309:337,27[D  ]| But he did not ask for hope or encouragement.  His
309:337,28[D  ]| was an involuntary confidence, an irrepressible effusion
309:337,29[D  ]| to a soothing friend ~~ not an application to a parent.
309:337,30[D  ]| Yet after a time I \did\ say, for at first I was quite overcome
309:337,31[D  ]| ~~ that if she lived, as I trusted she might, my
309:337,32[D  ]| greatest happiness would lie in promoting their marriage;
309:337,33[D  ]| and since our arrival, since our delightful security I have
309:337,34[D  ]| repeated it to him more fully, have given him every
309:337,35[D  ]| encouragement in my power.  Time, a very little time,
309:337,36[D  ]| I tell him, will do everything; ~~ Marianne's heart is not
309:337,37[D  ]| to be wasted for*ever on such a man as Willoughby. ~~
309:337,38[D  ]| His own merits must soon secure it."
309:338,01[A  ]| "To judge from the Colonel's spirits, however, you
309:338,02[A  ]| have not yet made him equally sanguine."
309:338,03[D  ]| "No. ~~ He thinks Marianne's affection too deeply
309:338,04[D  ]| rooted for any change in it under a great length of time,
309:338,05[D  ]| and even supposing her heart again free, is too diffident
309:338,06[D  ]| of himself to believe, that with such a difference of age
309:338,07[D  ]| and disposition, he could ever attach her.  There, however,
309:338,08[D  ]| he is quite mistaken.  His age is only so much
309:338,09[D  ]| beyond her's, as to be an advantage, as to make his
309:338,10[D  ]| character and principles fixed; ~~ and his disposition,
309:338,11[D  ]| I am well convinced, is exactly the very one to make
309:338,12[D  ]| your sister happy.  And his person, his manners too,
309:338,13[D  ]| are all in his favour.  My partiality does not blind me;
309:338,14[D  ]| he certainly is not so handsome as Willoughby ~~ but at
309:338,15[D  ]| the same time, there is something much more pleasing
309:338,16[D  ]| in his countenance. ~~ There was always a something, ~~
309:338,17[D  ]| if you remember, ~~ in Willoughby's eyes at times, which
309:338,18[D  ]| I did not like."
309:338,19['  ]| Elinor could \not\ remember it; ~~ but her mother,
309:338,20['  ]| without waiting for her assent, continued,
309:338,21[D  ]| "And his manners, the Colonel's manners are not only
309:338,22[D  ]| more pleasing to me than Willoughby's ever were, but
309:338,23[D  ]| they are of a kind I well know to be more solidly attaching
309:338,24[D  ]| to Marianne.  Their gentleness, their genuine
309:338,25[D  ]| attention to other people, and their manly unstudied
309:338,26[D  ]| simplicity is much more accordant with her real disposition,
309:338,27[D  ]| than the liveliness ~~ often artificial, and often ill-timed
309:338,28[D  ]| of the other.  I am very sure myself, that had
309:338,29[D  ]| Willoughby turned out as really amiable, as he has
309:338,30[D  ]| proved himself the contrary, Marianne would yet never
309:338,31[D  ]| have been so happy with \him\, as she will be with Colonel*Brandon."
309:338,32[D  ]|
309:338,33['  ]| She paused. ~~ Her daughter could not quite agree
309:338,34['  ]| with her, but her dissent was not heard, and therefore
309:338,35['  ]| gave no offence.
309:338,36[D  ]| "At Delaford, she will be within an easy distance of
309:338,37[D  ]| me,"
309:338,37['  ]| added Mrs%*Dashwood,
309:338,37[D  ]| "even if I remain at
309:338,38[D  ]| Barton; and in all probability, ~~ for I hear it is a large
309:339,01[D  ]| village, ~~ indeed there certainly \must\ be some small
309:339,02[D  ]| house or cottage close by, that would suit us quite as
309:339,03[D  ]| well as our present situation."
309:339,04['  ]| Poor Elinor!
309:339,04@a   | ~~ here was a new scheme for getting
309:339,05@a   | her to Delaford! ~~
309:339,05['  ]| but her spirit was stubborn.
309:339,06[A  ]| "His fortune too! ~~ for at my time of life you know,
309:339,07[A  ]| everybody cares about \that\; ~~ and though I neither
309:339,08[A  ]| know, nor desire to know, what it really is, I am sure it
309:339,09[A  ]| must be a good one."
309:339,10['  ]| Here they were interrupted by the entrance of a third
309:339,11['  ]| person, and Elinor withdrew to think it all over in private,
309:339,12['  ]| to wish success to her friend, and yet in wishing it, to feel
309:339,13['  ]| a pang for Willoughby.
310:340,01['  ]| Marianne's illness, though weakening in its kind,
310:340,02['  ]| had not been long enough to make her recovery slow;
310:340,03['  ]| and with youth, natural strength, and her mother's
310:340,04['  ]| presence in aid, it proceeded so smoothly as to enable her
310:340,05['  ]| to remove, within four days after the arrival of the latter,
310:340,06['  ]| into Mrs%*Palmer's dressing-room.  When there, at her
310:340,07['  ]| own particular request, for she was impatient to pour
310:340,08['  ]| forth her thanks to him for fetching her mother, Colonel*Brandon
310:340,09['  ]| was invited to visit her.
310:340,10['  ]| His emotion in entering the room, in seeing her
310:340,11['  ]| altered looks, and in receiving the pale hand which she
310:340,12['  ]| immediately held out to him, was such, as, in Elinor's
310:340,13['  ]| conjecture,
310:340,13@a   | must arise from something more than his
310:340,14@a   | affection for Marianne, or the consciousness of its being
310:340,15@a   | known to others;
310:340,15['  ]| and she soon discovered in his melancholy
310:340,16['  ]| eye and varying complexion as he looked at her
310:340,17['  ]| sister,
310:340,17@a   | the probable recurrence of many past scenes of
310:340,18@a   | misery to his mind, brought back by that resemblance
310:340,19@a   | between Marianne and Eliza already acknowledged, and
310:340,20@a   | now strengthened by the hollow eye, the sickly skin,
310:340,21@a   | the posture of reclining weakness, and the warm acknowledgment
310:340,22@a   | of peculiar obligation.
310:340,23['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood, not less watchful of what passed than
310:340,24['  ]| her daughter, but with a mind very differently influenced,
310:340,25['  ]| and therefore watching to very different effect, saw
310:340,26['  ]| nothing in the Colonel's behaviour but what arose from
310:340,27['  ]| the most simple and self-evident sensations, while in
310:340,28['  ]| the actions and words of Marianne she persuaded herself
310:340,29['  ]| to think that something more than gratitude already
310:340,30['  ]| dawned.
310:340,31['  ]| At the end of another day or two, Marianne growing
310:340,32['  ]| visibly stronger every twelve hours, Mrs%*Dashwood,
310:340,33['  ]| urged equally by her own and her daughter's wishes,
310:341,01['  ]| began to talk of removing to Barton.  On \her\ measures
310:341,02['  ]| depended those of her two friends; Mrs%*Jennings could
310:341,03['  ]| not quit Cleveland during the Dashwoods' stay, and
310:341,04['  ]| Colonel*Brandon was soon brought, by their united
310:341,05['  ]| request, to consider his own abode there as equally
310:341,06['  ]| determinate, if not equally indispensable.  At his and
310:341,07['  ]| Mrs%*Jennings's united request in return, Mrs%*Dashwood
310:341,08['  ]| was prevailed on to accept the use of his carriage
310:341,09['  ]| on her journey back, for the better accommodation of
310:341,10['  ]| her sick child; and the Colonel, at the joint invitation of
310:341,11['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood and Mrs%*Jennings, whose active good-nature
310:341,12['  ]| made her friendly and hospitable for other
310:341,13['  ]| people as well as herself, engaged with pleasure to redeem
310:341,14['  ]| it by a visit at the cottage, in the course of a few
310:341,15['  ]| weeks.
310:341,16['  ]| The day of separation and departure arrived; and
310:341,17['  ]| Marianne, after taking so particular and lengthened a
310:341,18['  ]| leave of Mrs%*Jennings, one so earnestly grateful, so full
310:341,19['  ]| of respect and kind wishes as seemed due to her own
310:341,20['  ]| heart from a secret acknowledgment of past inattention,
310:341,21['  ]| and bidding Colonel*Brandon farewel with the cordiality
310:341,22['  ]| of a friend, was carefully assisted by him into the carriage,
310:341,23['  ]| of which he seemed anxious that she should engross at
310:341,24['  ]| least half.  Mrs%*Dashwood and Elinor then followed,
310:341,25['  ]| and the others were left by themselves, to talk of the
310:341,26['  ]| travellers, and feel their own dulness, till Mrs%*Jennings
310:341,27['  ]| was summoned to her chaise to take comfort in the gossip
310:341,28['  ]| of her maid for the loss of her two young companions;
310:341,29['  ]| and Colonel*Brandon immediately afterwards took his
310:341,30['  ]| solitary way to Delaford.
310:341,31['  ]| The Dashwoods were two days on the road, and
310:341,32['  ]| Marianne bore her journey on both, without essential
310:341,33['  ]| fatigue.  Every*thing that the most zealous affection,
310:341,34['  ]| the most solicitous care could do to render her comfortable,
310:341,35['  ]| was the office of each watchful companion, and each
310:341,36['  ]| found their reward in her bodily ease, and her calmness
310:341,37['  ]| of spirits.  To Elinor, the observation of the latter was
310:341,38['  ]| particularly grateful.  She, who had seen her week after
310:342,01['  ]| week so constantly suffering, oppressed by anguish of
310:342,02['  ]| heart which she had neither courage to speak of, nor
310:342,03['  ]| fortitude to conceal, now saw with a joy, which no other
310:342,04['  ]| could equally share, an apparent composure of mind,
310:342,05['  ]| which, in being the result as she trusted of serious reflection,
310:342,06['  ]| must eventually lead her to contentment and
310:342,07['  ]| cheerfulness.
310:342,08['  ]| As they approached Barton, indeed, and entered on
310:342,09['  ]| scenes, of which every field and every tree brought some
310:342,10['  ]| peculiar, some painful recollection, she grew silent and
310:342,11['  ]| thoughtful, and turning away her face from their notice,
310:342,12['  ]| sat earnestly gazing through the window.  But here,
310:342,13['  ]| Elinor could neither wonder nor blame; and when she
310:342,14['  ]| saw, as she assisted Marianne from the carriage, that
310:342,15['  ]| she had been crying, she saw only an emotion too
310:342,16['  ]| natural in itself to raise anything less tender than pity,
310:342,17['  ]| and in its unobtrusiveness entitled to praise.  In the
310:342,18['  ]| whole of her subsequent manner, she traced the direction
310:342,19['  ]| of a mind awakened to reasonable exertion; for no
310:342,20['  ]| sooner had they entered their common sitting-room,
310:342,21['  ]| than Marianne turned her eyes around it with a look of
310:342,22['  ]| resolute firmness, as if determined at once to accustom
310:342,23['  ]| herself to the sight of every object with which the
310:342,24['  ]| remembrance of Willoughby could be connected. ~~ She
310:342,25['  ]| said little, but every sentence aimed at cheerfulness, and
310:342,26['  ]| though a sigh sometimes escaped her, it never passed
310:342,27['  ]| away without the atonement of a smile.  After dinner
310:342,28['  ]| she would try her piano-forte=.  She went to it; but the
310:342,29['  ]| music on which her eye first rested was an opera, procured
310:342,30['  ]| for her by Willoughby, containing some of their
310:342,31['  ]| favourite duets, and bearing on its outward leaf her
310:342,32['  ]| own name in his hand*writing. ~~ That would not do. ~~
310:342,33['  ]| She shook her head, put the music aside, and after
310:342,34['  ]| running over the keys for a minute complained of
310:342,35['  ]| feebleness in her fingers, and closed the instrument
310:342,36['  ]| again; declaring however with firmness as she did so,
310:342,37['  ]| that she should in future practise much.
310:342,38['  ]| The next morning produced no abatement in these
310:343,01['  ]| happy symptoms.  On the contrary, with a mind and
310:343,02['  ]| body alike strengthened by rest, she looked and spoke
310:343,03['  ]| with more genuine spirit, anticipating the pleasure of
310:343,04['  ]| Margaret's return, and talking of the dear family party
310:343,05['  ]| which would then be restored, of their mutual pursuits
310:343,06['  ]| and cheerful society as the only happiness worth a wish.
310:343,07[C  ]| "When the weather is settled, and I have recovered
310:343,08[C  ]| my strength,"
310:343,08['  ]| said she,
310:343,08[C  ]| "we will take long walks together
310:343,09[C  ]| every day.  We will walk to the farm at the edge
310:343,10[C  ]| of the down, and see how the children go on; we will
310:343,11[C  ]| walk to Sir*John's new plantations at Barton-Cross, and
310:343,12[C  ]| the Abbeyland; and we will often go to the old ruins of
310:343,13[C  ]| the Priory, and try to trace its foundations as far as we
310:343,14[C  ]| are told they once reached.  I know we shall be happy.
310:343,15[C  ]| I know the summer will pass happily away.  I mean
310:343,16[C  ]| never to be later in rising than six, and from that time
310:343,17[C  ]| till dinner I shall divide every moment between music and
310:343,18[C  ]| reading.  I have formed my plan, and am determined
310:343,19[C  ]| to enter on a course of serious study.  Our own library
310:343,20[C  ]| is too well known to me, to be resorted to for anything
310:343,21[C  ]| beyond mere amusement.  But there are many works
310:343,22[C  ]| well worth reading, at the Park; and there are others of
310:343,23[C  ]| more modern production which I know I can borrow
310:343,24[C  ]| of Colonel*Brandon.  By reading only six hours a-day,
310:343,25[C  ]| I shall gain in the course of a twelvemonth a great deal
310:343,26[C  ]| of instruction which I now feel myself to want."
310:343,27['  ]| Elinor honoured her for a plan which originated so
310:343,28['  ]| nobly as this; though smiling to see the same eager
310:343,29['  ]| fancy which had been leading her to the extreme of
310:343,30['  ]| languid indolence and selfish repining, now at work
310:343,31['  ]| in introducing excess into a scheme of such rational
310:343,32['  ]| employment and virtuous self-controul.  Her smile
310:343,33['  ]| however changed to a sigh when she remembered,
310:343,34['  ]| that her promise to Willoughby was yet unfulfilled,
310:343,35['  ]| and feared she had that to communicate which might
310:343,36['  ]| again unsettle the mind of Marianne, and ruin at least
310:343,37['  ]| for a time this fair prospect of busy tranquillity.  Willing
310:343,38['  ]| therefore to delay the evil hour, she resolved to wait till
310:344,01['  ]| her sister's health were more secure, before she appointed
310:344,02['  ]| it.  But the resolution was made only to be broken.
310:344,03['  ]| Marianne had been two or three days at home, before
310:344,04['  ]| the weather was fine enough for an invalid like herself
310:344,05['  ]| to venture out.  But at last a soft, genial morning
310:344,06['  ]| appeared; such as might tempt the daughter's wishes
310:344,07['  ]| and the mother's confidence; and Marianne, leaning
310:344,08['  ]| on Elinor's arm, was authorised to walk as long as she
310:344,09['  ]| could without fatigue, in the lane before the house.
310:344,10['  ]| The sisters set out at a pace, slow as the feebleness
310:344,11['  ]| of Marianne in an exercise hitherto untried since her
310:344,12['  ]| illness required; ~~ and they had advanced only so far
310:344,13['  ]| beyond the house as to admit a full view of the hill,
310:344,14['  ]| the important hill behind, when pausing with her eyes
310:344,15['  ]| turned towards it, Marianne calmly said,
310:344,16[C  ]| "There, exactly there" ~~
310:344,16['  ]| pointing with one hand,
310:344,17[C  ]| "on that projecting mound, ~~ there I fell; and there I
310:344,18[C  ]| first saw Willoughby."
310:344,19['  ]| Her voice sunk with the word, but presently reviving
310:344,20['  ]| she added,
310:344,21[C  ]| "I am thankful to find that I can look with so little
310:344,22[C  ]| pain on the spot! ~~ shall we ever talk on that subject,
310:344,23[C  ]| Elinor?" ~~
310:344,23['  ]| hesitatingly it was said. ~~
310:344,23[C  ]| "Or will it be
310:344,24[C  ]| wrong? ~~ I \can\ talk of it now, I hope, as I ought to do." ~~
310:344,25['  ]| Elinor tenderly invited her to be open.
310:344,26[C  ]| "As for regret,"
310:344,26['  ]| said Marianne,
310:344,26[C  ]| "I have done with
310:344,27[C  ]| that, as far as \he\ is concerned.  I do not mean to talk to
310:344,28[C  ]| you of what my feelings have been for him, but what
310:344,29[C  ]| they are \now\. ~~ At present, if I could be satisfied on one
310:344,30[C  ]| point, if I could be allowed to think that he was not
310:344,31[C  ]| \always\ acting a part, not \always\ deceiving me; ~~ but
310:344,32[C  ]| above all, if I could be assured that he never was so \very\
310:344,33[C  ]| wicked as my fears have sometimes fancied him, since
310:344,34[C  ]| the story of that unfortunate girl" ~~
310:344,35['  ]| She stopt. ~~ Elinor joyfully treasured her words as she
310:344,36['  ]| answered.
310:344,37[A  ]| "If you could be assured of that, you think you should
310:344,38[A  ]| be easy."
310:345,01[C  ]| "Yes.  My peace of mind is doubly involved in it; ~~
310:345,02[C  ]| for not only is it horrible to suspect a person, who has
310:345,03[C  ]| been what \he\ has been to \me\, of such designs, ~~ but what
310:345,04[C  ]| must it make me appear to myself? ~~ What in a situation
310:345,05[C  ]| like mine, but a most shamefully unguarded affection
310:345,06[C  ]| could expose me to" ~~
310:345,07[A  ]| "How then,"
310:345,07['  ]| asked her sister,
310:345,07[A  ]| "would you account
310:345,08[A  ]| for his behaviour?"
310:345,09[C  ]| "I would suppose him, ~~ Oh! how gladly would I
310:345,10[C  ]| suppose him, only fickle, very, very fickle."
310:345,11['  ]| Elinor said no more.  She was debating within herself
310:345,12['  ]| on the eligibility of beginning her story directly, or postponing
310:345,13['  ]| it till Marianne were in stronger health; ~~ and
310:345,14['  ]| they crept on for a few minutes in silence.
310:345,15[C  ]| "I am not wishing him too much good,"
310:345,15['  ]| said Marianne
310:345,16['  ]| at last with a sigh,
310:345,16[C  ]| "when I wish his secret reflections
310:345,17[C  ]| may be no more unpleasant than my own.  He will
310:345,18[C  ]| suffer enough in them."
310:345,19[A  ]| "Do you compare your conduct with his?"
310:345,20[C  ]| "No.  I compare it with what it ought to have been;
310:345,21[C  ]| I compare it with yours."
310:345,22[A  ]| "Our situations have borne little resemblance."
310:345,23[C  ]| "They have borne more than our conduct. ~~ Do not,
310:345,24[C  ]| my dearest Elinor, let your kindness defend what I know
310:345,25[C  ]| your judgment must censure.  My illness has made me
310:345,26[C  ]| think ~~ It has given me leisure and calmness for serious
310:345,27[C  ]| recollection.  Long before I was enough recovered to
310:345,28[C  ]| talk, I was perfectly able to reflect.  I considered the
310:345,29[C  ]| past; I saw in my own behaviour since the beginning
310:345,30[C  ]| of our acquaintance with him last autumn, nothing
310:345,31[C  ]| but a series of imprudence towards myself, and want
310:345,32[C  ]| of kindness to others.  I saw that my own feelings had
310:345,33[C  ]| prepared my sufferings, and that my want of fortitude
310:345,34[C  ]| under them had almost led me to the grave.  My illness,
310:345,35[C  ]| I well knew, had been entirely brought on by myself,
310:345,36[C  ]| by such negligence of my own health, as I had felt even
310:345,37[C  ]| at the time to be wrong.  Had I died, ~~ it would have
310:345,38[C  ]| been self-destruction.  I did not know my danger till
310:346,01[C  ]| the danger was removed; but with such feelings as
310:346,02[C  ]| these reflections gave me, I wonder at my recovery, ~~
310:346,03[C  ]| wonder that the very eagerness of my desire to live, to
310:346,04[C  ]| have time for atonement to my God, and to you all, did
310:346,05[C  ]| not kill me at once.  Had I died, ~~ in what peculiar
310:346,06[C  ]| misery should I have left you, my nurse, my friend, my
310:346,07[C  ]| sister! ~~ You, who had seen all the fretful selfishness
310:346,08[C  ]| of my latter days; who had known all the murmurings
310:346,09[C  ]| of my heart! ~~ How should I have lived in \your\ remembrance!
310:346,10[C  ]| ~~ My mother too!  How could you have consoled
310:346,11[C  ]| her! ~~ I cannot express my own abhorrence of myself.
310:346,12[C  ]| Whenever I looked towards the past, I saw some duty
310:346,13[C  ]| neglected, or some failing indulged.  Every*body seemed
310:346,14[C  ]| injured by me.  The kindness, the unceasing kindness
310:346,15[C  ]| of Mrs%*Jennings, I had repaid with ungrateful contempt.
310:346,16[C  ]| To the Middletons, the Palmers, the Steeles, to every
310:346,17[C  ]| common acquaintance even, I had been insolent and
310:346,18[C  ]| unjust; with an heart hardened against their merits,
310:346,19[C  ]| and a temper irritated by their very attention. ~~ To
310:346,20[C  ]| John, to Fanny, ~~ yes, even to them, little as they
310:346,21[C  ]| deserve, I had given less than their due.  But you, ~~
310:346,22[C  ]| you above all, above my mother, had been wronged by
310:346,23[C  ]| me.  I, and only I, knew your heart and its sorrows;
310:346,24[C  ]| yet, to what did it influence me? ~~ not to any compassion
310:346,25[C  ]| that could benefit you or myself. ~~ Your example was
310:346,26[C  ]| before me:  but to what avail? ~~ Was I more considerate
310:346,27[C  ]| of you and your comfort?  Did I imitate your
310:346,28[C  ]| forbearance, or lessen your restraints, by taking any
310:346,29[C  ]| part in those offices of general complaisance or particular
310:346,30[C  ]| gratitude which you had hitherto been left to discharge
310:346,31[C  ]| alone? ~~ No; ~~ not less when I knew you to be unhappy,
310:346,32[C  ]| than when I had believed you at ease, did I turn away
310:346,33[C  ]| from every exertion of duty or friendship; scarcely
310:346,34[C  ]| allowing sorrow to exist but with me, regretting only
310:346,35[C  ]| \that\ heart which had deserted and wronged me, and
310:346,36[C  ]| leaving you, for whom I professed an unbounded affection,
310:346,37[C  ]| to be miserable for my sake."
310:346,38['  ]| Here ceased the rapid flow of her self-reproving spirit;
310:347,01['  ]| and Elinor, impatient to sooth, though too honest to
310:347,02['  ]| flatter, gave her instantly that praise and support which
310:347,03['  ]| her frankness and her contrition so well deserved.
310:347,04['  ]| Marianne pressed her hand and replied,
310:347,05[C  ]| "You are very good. ~~ The future must be my proof.
310:347,06[C  ]| I have laid down my plan, and if I am capable of
310:347,07[C  ]| adhering to it ~~ my feelings shall be governed and my
310:347,08[C  ]| temper improved.  They shall no longer worry others,
310:347,09[C  ]| nor torture myself.  I shall now live solely for my family.
310:347,10[C  ]| You, my mother, and Margaret, must henceforth be all
310:347,11[C  ]| the world to me; you will share my affections entirely
310:347,12[C  ]| between you.  From you, from my home, I shall never
310:347,13[C  ]| again have the smallest incitement to move; and if
310:347,14[C  ]| I do mix in other society it will be only to shew that my
310:347,15[C  ]| spirit is humbled, my heart amended, and that I can
310:347,16[C  ]| practise the civilities, the lesser duties of life, with
310:347,17[C  ]| gentleness, and forbearance.  As for Willoughby ~~ to
310:347,18[C  ]| say that I shall soon or that I shall ever forget him,
310:347,19[C  ]| would be idle.  His remembrance can be overcome by
310:347,20[C  ]| no change of circumstances or opinions.  But it shall
310:347,21[C  ]| be regulated, it shall be checked by religion, by reason,
310:347,22[C  ]| by constant employment."
310:347,23['  ]| She paused ~~ and added in a lower voice,
310:347,23[C  ]| "If I could
310:347,24[C  ]| but know \his\ heart, everything would become easy."
310:347,25['  ]| Elinor, who had now been for some time reflecting
310:347,26['  ]| on the propriety or impropriety of speedily hazarding
310:347,27['  ]| her narration, without feeling at all nearer decision than
310:347,28['  ]| at first, heard this; and perceiving that as reflection did
310:347,29['  ]| nothing, resolution must do all, soon found herself
310:347,30['  ]| leading to the fact.
310:347,31['  ]| She managed the recital, as she hoped, with address;
310:347,32['  ]| prepared her anxious listener with caution; related
310:347,33['  ]| simply and honestly the chief points on which Willoughby
310:347,34['  ]| grounded his apology; did justice to his repentance,
310:347,35['  ]| and softened only his protestations of present regard.
310:347,36['  ]| Marianne said not a word. ~~ She trembled, her eyes were
310:347,37['  ]| fixed on the ground, and her lips became whiter than
310:347,38['  ]| even sickness had left them.  A thousand inquiries sprung
310:348,01['  ]| up from her heart, but she dared not urge one.  She
310:348,02['  ]| caught every syllable with panting eagerness; her hand,
310:348,03['  ]| unknowingly to herself, closely pressed her sister's, and
310:348,04['  ]| tears covered her cheeks.
310:348,05['  ]| Elinor, dreading her being tired, led her towards home;
310:348,06['  ]| and till they reached the door of the cottage, easily
310:348,07['  ]| conjecturing what her curiosity must be though no
310:348,08['  ]| question was suffered to speak it, talked of nothing but
310:348,09['  ]| Willoughby, and their conversation together; and
310:348,10['  ]| was carefully minute in every particular of speech and
310:348,11['  ]| look, where minuteness could be safely indulged.  As
310:348,12['  ]| soon as they entered the house, Marianne with a kiss
310:348,13['  ]| of gratitude and these two words just articulate through
310:348,14['  ]| her tears,
310:348,14[C  ]| "Tell mama,"
310:348,14['  ]| withdrew from her sister and
310:348,15['  ]| walked slowly up*stairs.  Elinor would not attempt
310:348,16['  ]| to disturb a solitude so reasonable as what she now
310:348,17['  ]| sought; and with a mind anxiously pre-arranging its
310:348,18['  ]| result, and a resolution of reviving the subject again,
310:348,19['  ]| should Marianne fail to do it, she turned into the parlour
310:348,20['  ]| to fulfil her parting injunction.
311:349,01['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood did not hear unmoved the vindication
311:349,02['  ]| of her former favourite.
311:349,02@d   | She rejoiced in his being
311:349,03@d   | cleared from some part of his imputed guilt; ~~ she was
311:349,04@d   | sorry for him; ~~ she wished him happy.  But the feelings
311:349,05@d   | of the past could not be recalled. ~~ Nothing could restore
311:349,06@d   | him with a faith unbroken ~~ a character unblemished,
311:349,07@d   | to Marianne.  Nothing could do away the knowledge
311:349,08@d   | of what the latter had suffered through his means, nor
311:349,09@d   | remove the guilt of his conduct towards Eliza.  Nothing
311:349,10@d   | could replace him, therefore, in her former esteem, nor
311:349,11@d   | injure the interests of Colonel*Brandon.
311:349,12['  ]| Had Mrs%*Dashwood, like her daughter, heard
311:349,13['  ]| Willoughby's story from himself ~~ had she witnessed his
311:349,14['  ]| distress, and been under the influence of his countenance
311:349,15['  ]| and his manner, it is probable that her compassion
311:349,16['  ]| would have been greater.  But it was neither in Elinor's
311:349,17['  ]| power, nor in her wish, to rouse such feelings in another,
311:349,18['  ]| by her retailed explanation, as had at first been called
311:349,19['  ]| forth in herself.  Reflection had given calmness to her
311:349,20['  ]| judgment, and sobered her own opinion of Willoughby's
311:349,21['  ]| deserts; ~~ she wished, therefore, to declare only the
311:349,22['  ]| simple truth, and lay open such facts as were really due
311:349,23['  ]| to his character, without any embellishment of tenderness
311:349,24['  ]| to lead the fancy astray.
311:349,25['  ]| In the evening, when they were all three together,
311:349,26['  ]| Marianne began voluntarily to speak of him again; ~~
311:349,27['  ]| but that it was not without an effort, the restless, unquiet
311:349,28['  ]| thoughtfulness in which she had been for some time
311:349,29['  ]| previously sitting ~~ her rising colour, as she spoke ~~ and
311:349,30['  ]| her unsteady voice, plainly shewed.
311:349,31[C  ]| "I wish to assure you both,"
311:349,31['  ]| said she,
311:349,31[C  ]| "that I see
311:349,32[C  ]| every*thing ~~ as you can desire me to do."
311:349,33['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood would have interrupted her instantly
311:350,01['  ]| with soothing tenderness, had not Elinor, who really
311:350,02['  ]| wished to hear her sister's unbiassed opinion, by an
311:350,03['  ]| eager sign, engaged her silence.  Marianne slowly continued ~~
311:350,04['  ]|
311:350,05[C  ]| "It is a great relief to me ~~ what Elinor told me this
311:350,06[C  ]| morning ~~ I have now heard exactly what I wished to
311:350,07[C  ]| hear." ~~
311:350,07['  ]| For some moments her voice was lost; but
311:350,08['  ]| recovering herself, she added, and with greater calmness
311:350,09['  ]| than before ~~
311:350,09[C  ]| "I am now perfectly satisfied, I wish for
311:350,10[C  ]| no change.  I never could have been happy with him,
311:350,11[C  ]| after knowing, as sooner or later I must have known,
311:350,12[C  ]| all this. ~~ I should have had no confidence, no esteem.
311:350,13[C  ]| Nothing could have done it away to my feelings."
311:350,14[D  ]| "I know it ~~ I know it,"
311:350,14['  ]| cried her mother.
311:350,14[D  ]| "Happy
311:350,15[D  ]| with a man of libertine practices! ~~ With one who had
311:350,16[D  ]| so injured the peace of the dearest of our friends, and
311:350,17[D  ]| the best of men! ~~ No ~~ my Marianne has not a heart to
311:350,18[D  ]| be made happy with such a man! ~~ Her conscience, her
311:350,19[D  ]| sensitive conscience, would have felt all that the conscience
311:350,20[D  ]| of her husband ought to have felt."
311:350,21['  ]| Marianne sighed, and repeated ~~
311:350,21[C  ]| "I wish for no
311:350,22[C  ]| change."
311:350,23[A  ]| "You consider the matter,"
311:350,23['  ]| said Elinor,
311:350,23[A  ]| "exactly as
311:350,24[A  ]| a good mind and a sound understanding must consider
311:350,25[A  ]| it; and I dare say, you perceive, as well as myself, not
311:350,26[A  ]| only in this, but in many other circumstances, reason
311:350,27[A  ]| enough to be convinced that your marriage must have
311:350,28[A  ]| involved you in many certain troubles and disappointments,
311:350,29[A  ]| in which you would have been poorly supported
311:350,30[A  ]| by an affection, on his side, much less certain.  Had you
311:350,31[A  ]| married, you must have been always poor.  His expensiveness
311:350,32[A  ]| is acknowledged even by himself, and his whole
311:350,33[A  ]| conduct declares that self-denial is a word hardly
311:350,34[A  ]| understood by him.  His demands and your inexperience
311:350,35[A  ]| together on a small, very small income, must have
311:350,36[A  ]| brought on distresses which would not be the \less\
311:350,37[A  ]| grievous to you, from having been entirely unknown
311:350,38[A  ]| and unthought of before.  \Your\ sense of honour and
311:351,01[A  ]| honesty would have led you, I know, when aware of
311:351,02[A  ]| your situation, to attempt all the economy that would
311:351,03[A  ]| appear to you possible; and perhaps, as long as your
311:351,04[A  ]| frugality retrenched only on your own comfort, you
311:351,05[A  ]| might have been suffered to practise it, but beyond that
311:351,06[A  ]| ~~ and how little could the utmost of your single management
311:351,07[A  ]| do to stop the ruin which had begun before your
311:351,08[A  ]| marriage? ~~ Beyond \that\, had you endeavoured, however
311:351,09[A  ]| reasonably, to abridge \his\ enjoyments, is it not to
311:351,10[A  ]| be feared, that instead of prevailing on feelings so selfish
311:351,11[A  ]| to consent to it, you would have lessened your own
311:351,12[A  ]| influence on his heart, and made him regret the connection
311:351,13[A  ]| which had involved him in such difficulties?"
311:351,14['  ]| Marianne's lips quivered, and she repeated the word
311:351,15[C  ]| "Selfish?"
311:351,15['  ]| in a tone that implied ~~
311:351,15@c   | "do you really
311:351,16@c   | think him selfish?"
311:351,17[A  ]| "The whole of his behaviour,"
311:351,17['  ]| replied Elinor,
311:351,17[A  ]| "from
311:351,18[A  ]| the beginning to the end of the affair, has been grounded
311:351,19[A  ]| on selfishness.  It was selfishness which first made him
311:351,20[A  ]| sport with your affections; which afterwards, when his
311:351,21[A  ]| own were engaged, made him delay the confession of it,
311:351,22[A  ]| and which finally carried him from Barton.  His own
311:351,23[A  ]| enjoyment, or his own ease, was, in every particular,
311:351,24[A  ]| his ruling principle."
311:351,25[C  ]| "It is very true.  \My\ happiness never was his object."
311:351,26[A  ]| "At present,"
311:351,26['  ]| continued Elinor,
311:351,26[A  ]| "he regrets what he
311:351,27[A  ]| has done.  And why does he regret it? ~~ Because he finds
311:351,28[A  ]| it has not answered towards himself.  It has not made
311:351,29[A  ]| him happy.  His circumstances are now unembarrassed
311:351,30[A  ]| ~~ he suffers from no evil of that kind; and he thinks
311:351,31[A  ]| only that he has married a woman of a less amiable
311:351,32[A  ]| temper than yourself.  But does it thence follow that
311:351,33[A  ]| had he married you, he would have been happy? ~~ The
311:351,34[A  ]| inconveniencies would have been different.  He would
311:351,35[A  ]| then have suffered under the pecuniary distresses which,
311:351,36[A  ]| because they are removed, he now reckons as nothing.
311:351,37[A  ]| He would have had a wife of whose temper he could
311:351,38[A  ]| make no complaint, but he would have been always
311:352,01[A  ]| necessitous ~~ always poor; and probably would soon
311:352,02[A  ]| have learnt to rank the innumerable comforts of a clear
311:352,03[A  ]| estate and good income as of far more importance, even
311:352,04[A  ]| to domestic happiness, than the mere temper of a wife."
311:352,05[C  ]| "I have not a doubt of it,"
311:352,05['  ]| said Marianne;
311:352,05[C  ]| "and
311:352,06[C  ]| I have nothing to regret ~~ nothing but my own folly."
311:352,07[D  ]| "Rather say your mother's imprudence, my child,"
311:352,08['  ]| said Mrs%*Dashwood;
311:352,08[D  ]| "\she\ must be answerable."
311:352,09['  ]| Marianne would not let her proceed; ~~ and Elinor,
311:352,10['  ]| satisfied that each felt their own error, wished to avoid
311:352,11['  ]| any survey of the past that might weaken her sister's
311:352,12['  ]| spirits; she therefore, pursuing the first subject,
311:352,13['  ]| immediately continued,
311:352,14[A  ]| "\One\ observation may, I think, be fairly drawn from
311:352,15[A  ]| the whole of the story ~~ that all Willoughby's difficulties
311:352,16[A  ]| have arisen from the first offence against virtue, in his
311:352,17[A  ]| behaviour to Eliza*Williams.  That crime has been the
311:352,18[A  ]| origin of every lesser one, and of all his present discontents."
311:352,19[A  ]|
311:352,20['  ]| Marianne assented most feelingly to the remark; and
311:352,21['  ]| her mother was led by it to an enumeration of Colonel*Brandon's
311:352,22['  ]| injuries and merits, warm as friendship and
311:352,23['  ]| design could unitedly dictate.  Her daughter did not
311:352,24['  ]| look, however, as if much of it were heard by her.
311:352,25['  ]| Elinor, according to her expectation, saw on the two
311:352,26['  ]| or three following days, that Marianne did not continue
311:352,27['  ]| to gain strength as she had done; but while her resolution
311:352,28['  ]| was unsubdued, and she still tried to appear cheerful
311:352,29['  ]| and easy, her sister could safely trust to the effect of
311:352,30['  ]| time upon her health.
311:352,31['  ]| Margaret returned, and the family were again all
311:352,32['  ]| restored to each other, again quietly settled at the
311:352,33['  ]| cottage, and if not pursuing their usual studies with quite
311:352,34['  ]| so much vigour as when they first came to Barton, at
311:352,35['  ]| least planning a vigorous prosecution of them in future.
311:352,36['  ]| Elinor grew impatient for some tidings of Edward.
311:352,37['  ]| She had heard nothing of him since her leaving London,
311:352,38['  ]| nothing new of his plans, nothing certain even of his
311:353,01['  ]| present abode.  Some letters had passed between her
311:353,02['  ]| and her brother, in consequence of Marianne's illness;
311:353,03['  ]| and in the first of John's, there had been this sentence:
311:353,04[F  ]| ~~ "We know nothing of our unfortunate Edward, and
311:353,05[F  ]| can make no inquiries on so prohibited a subject, but
311:353,06[F  ]| conclude him to be still at Oxford;"
311:353,06['  ]| which was all the
311:353,07['  ]| intelligence of Edward afforded her by the correspondence,
311:353,08['  ]| for his name was not even mentioned in any of
311:353,09['  ]| the succeeding letters.  She was not doomed, however,
311:353,10['  ]| to be long in ignorance of his measures.
311:353,11['  ]| Their man-servant had been sent one morning to
311:353,12['  ]| Exeter on business; and when, as he waited at table,
311:353,13['  ]| he had satisfied the inquiries of his mistress as to the
311:353,14['  ]| event of his errand, this was his voluntary communication ~~
311:353,15['  ]|
311:353,16[W  ]| "I suppose you know ma'am, that Mr%*Ferrars is
311:353,17[W  ]| married."
311:353,18['  ]| Marianne gave a violent start, fixed her eyes upon
311:353,19['  ]| Elinor, saw her turning pale, and fell back in her
311:353,20['  ]| chair in hysterics.  Mrs%*Dashwood, whose eyes, as she
311:353,21['  ]| answered the servant's inquiry, had intuitively taken
311:353,22['  ]| the same direction, was shocked to perceive by Elinor's
311:353,23['  ]| countenance how much she really suffered, and in a
311:353,24['  ]| moment afterwards, alike distressed by Marianne's
311:353,25['  ]| situation, knew not on which child to bestow her
311:353,26['  ]| principal attention.
311:353,27['  ]| The servant, who saw only that Miss*Marianne was
311:353,28['  ]| taken ill, had sense enough to call one of the maids, who,
311:353,29['  ]| with Mrs%*Dashwood's assistance, supported her into
311:353,30['  ]| the other room.  By that time, Marianne was rather
311:353,31['  ]| better, and her mother leaving her to the care of Margaret
311:353,32['  ]| and the maid, returned to Elinor, who, though still much
311:353,33['  ]| disordered, had so far recovered the use of her reason
311:353,34['  ]| and voice as to be just beginning an inquiry of Thomas,
311:353,35['  ]| as to the source of his intelligence.  Mrs%*Dashwood
311:353,36['  ]| immediately took all that trouble on herself; and
311:353,37['  ]| Elinor had the benefit of the information without the
311:353,38['  ]| exertion of seeking it.
311:354,01[D  ]| "Who told you that Mr%*Ferrars was married,
311:354,02[D  ]| Thomas?"
311:354,03[W  ]| "I see Mr%*Ferrars myself, ma'am, this morning in
311:354,04[W  ]| Exeter, and his lady too, Miss*Steele as was.  They was
311:354,05[W  ]| stopping in a chaise at the door of the New*London*Inn,
311:354,06[W  ]| as I went there with a message from Sally at the Park
311:354,07[W  ]| to her brother, who is one of the post-boys.  I happened
311:354,08[W  ]| to look up as I went by the chaise, and so I see directly
311:354,09[W  ]| it was the youngest Miss*Steele; so I took off my hat, and
311:354,10[W  ]| she knew me and called to me, and inquired after you,
311:354,11[W  ]| ma'am, and the young ladies, especially Miss*Marianne,
311:354,12[W  ]| and bid me I should give her compliments and Mr%*Ferrars's,
311:354,13[W  ]| their best compliments and service, and how
311:354,14[W  ]| sorry they was they had not time to come on and see you,
311:354,15[W  ]| but they was in a great hurry to go forwards, for they
311:354,16[W  ]| was going further down for a little while, but howsever,
311:354,17[W  ]| when they come back, they'd make sure to come and
311:354,18[W  ]| see you."
311:354,19[D  ]| "But did she tell you she was married, Thomas?"
311:354,20[W  ]| "Yes, ma'am.  She smiled, and said how she had
311:354,21[W  ]| changed her name since she was in these parts.  She was
311:354,22[W  ]| always a very affable and free-spoken young lady, and
311:354,23[W  ]| very civil behaved.  So, I made free to wish her joy."
311:354,24[D  ]| "Was Mr%*Ferrars in the carriage with her?"
311:354,25[W  ]| "Yes, ma'am, I just see him leaning back in it, but
311:354,26[W  ]| he did not look up; ~~ he never was a gentleman much
311:354,27[W  ]| for talking."
311:354,28['  ]| Elinor's heart could easily account for his not putting
311:354,29['  ]| himself forward; and Mrs%*Dashwood probably found
311:354,30['  ]| the same explanation.
311:354,31[D  ]| "Was there no*one else in the carriage?"
311:354,32[W  ]| "No, ma'am, only they two."
311:354,33[D  ]| "Do you know where they came from?"
311:354,34[W  ]| "They come straight from town, as Miss*Lucy ~~ Mrs%*Ferrars
311:354,35[W  ]| told me."
311:354,36[D  ]| "And are going farther westward?"
311:354,37[W  ]| "Yes, ma'am ~~ but not to bide long.  They will soon
311:354,38[W  ]| be back again, and then they'd be sure and call here."
311:355,01['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood now looked at her daughter; but
311:355,02['  ]| Elinor knew better than to expect them.  She recognised
311:355,03['  ]| the whole of Lucy in the message, and was very confident
311:355,04['  ]| that Edward would never come near them.  She observed,
311:355,05['  ]| in a low voice, to her mother, that they were probably
311:355,06['  ]| going down to Mr%*Pratt's, near Plymouth.
311:355,07['  ]| Thomas's intelligence seemed over.  Elinor looked as
311:355,08['  ]| if she wished to hear more.
311:355,09[D  ]| "Did you see them off, before you came away?"
311:355,10[W  ]| "No, ma'am ~~ the horses was just coming out, but
311:355,11[W  ]| I could not bide any longer; I was afraid of being late."
311:355,12[D  ]| "Did Mrs%*Ferrars look well?"
311:355,13[W  ]| "Yes, ma'am, she said how she was very well; and
311:355,14[W  ]| to my mind she was always a very handsome young
311:355,15[W  ]| lady ~~ and she seemed vastly contented."
311:355,16['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood could think of no other question, and
311:355,17['  ]| Thomas and the table-cloth, now alike needless, were
311:355,18['  ]| soon afterwards dismissed.  Marianne had already
311:355,19['  ]| sent to say that she should eat nothing more.  Mrs%*Dashwood's
311:355,20['  ]| and Elinor's appetites were equally lost,
311:355,21['  ]| and Margaret might think herself very well off, that
311:355,22['  ]| with so much uneasiness as both her sisters had lately
311:355,23['  ]| experienced, so much reason as they had often had to
311:355,24['  ]| be careless of their meals, she had never been obliged
311:355,25['  ]| to go without her dinner before.
311:355,26['  ]| When the dessert and the wine were arranged, and
311:355,27['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood and Elinor were left by themselves,
311:355,28['  ]| they remained long together in a similarity of thoughtfulness
311:355,29['  ]| and silence.  Mrs%*Dashwood feared to hazard
311:355,30['  ]| any remark, and ventured not to offer consolation.
311:355,31['  ]| She now found that she had erred in relying on Elinor's
311:355,32['  ]| representation of herself; and justly concluded that
311:355,33['  ]| every*thing had been expressly softened at the time,
311:355,34['  ]| to spare her from an increase of unhappiness, suffering
311:355,35['  ]| as she then had suffered for Marianne.  She found that
311:355,36['  ]| she had been misled by the careful, the considerate
311:355,37['  ]| attention of her daughter, to think the attachment,
311:355,38['  ]| which once she had so well understood, much slighter
311:356,01['  ]| in reality, than she had been wont to believe, or than it
311:356,02['  ]| was now proved to be.  She feared that under this
311:356,03['  ]| persuasion she had been unjust, inattentive, nay, almost
311:356,04['  ]| unkind, to her Elinor; ~~ that Marianne's affliction,
311:356,05['  ]| because more acknowledged, more immediately before
311:356,06['  ]| her, had too much engrossed her tenderness, and led her
311:356,07['  ]| away to forget that in Elinor she might have a daughter
311:356,08['  ]| suffering almost as much, certainly with less self-provocation,
311:356,09['  ]| and greater fortitude.
312:357,01['  ]| Elinor now found the difference between the expectation
312:357,02['  ]| of an unpleasant event, however certain the mind
312:357,03['  ]| may be told to consider it, and certainty itself.  She
312:357,04['  ]| now found, that in spite of herself,
312:357,04@a   | she had always
312:357,05@a   | admitted a hope, while Edward remained single, that
312:357,06@a   | something would occur to prevent his marrying Lucy;
312:357,07@a   | that some resolution of his own, some mediation of
312:357,08@a   | friends, or some more eligible opportunity of establishment
312:357,09@a   | for the lady, would arise to assist the happiness
312:357,10@a   | of all.
312:357,10['  ]| But he was now married, and she condemned her
312:357,11['  ]| heart for the lurking flattery, which so much heightened
312:357,12['  ]| the pain of the intelligence.
312:357,13['  ]| That he should be married so soon, before (as she
312:357,14['  ]| imagined) he could be in orders, and consequently before
312:357,15['  ]| he could be in possession of the living, surprised her
312:357,16['  ]| a little at first.  But she soon saw how likely it was that
312:357,17['  ]| Lucy, in her self-provident care, in her haste to secure
312:357,18['  ]| him, should overlook every*thing but the risk of delay.
312:357,19@a   | They were married, married in town, and now hastening
312:357,20@a   | down to her uncle's.  What had Edward felt on being
312:357,21@a   | within four miles of Barton, on seeing her mother's
312:357,22@a   | servant, on hearing Lucy's message!
312:357,23@a   | They would soon,
312:357,23['  ]| she supposed,
312:357,23@a   | be settled at Delaford.
312:357,24@a   | ~~ Delaford, ~~ that place in which so much conspired to
312:357,25@a   | give her an interest; which she wished to be acquainted
312:357,26@a   | with, and yet desired to avoid.  She saw them in an instant
312:357,27@a   | in their parsonage-house; saw in Lucy, the active,
312:357,28@a   | contriving manager, uniting at once a desire of smart
312:357,29@a   | appearance, with the utmost frugality, and ashamed
312:357,30@a   | to be suspected of half her economical practices; ~~
312:357,31@a   | pursuing her own interest in every thought, courting
312:357,32@a   | the favour of Colonel*Brandon, of Mrs%*Jennings, and
312:357,33@a   | of every wealthy friend.
312:357,33['  ]| In Edward ~~ she knew not
312:358,01['  ]| what she saw, nor what she wished to see; ~~ happy or
312:358,02['  ]| unhappy, ~~ nothing pleased her; she turned away her
312:358,03['  ]| head from every sketch of him.
312:358,04['  ]| Elinor flattered herself that some one of their connections
312:358,05['  ]| in London would write to them to announce the
312:358,06['  ]| event, and give farther particulars, ~~ but day after day
312:358,07['  ]| passed off, and brought no letter, no tidings.  Though
312:358,08['  ]| uncertain that any*one were to blame, she found fault
312:358,09['  ]| with every absent friend.
312:358,09@a   | They were all thoughtless or
312:358,10@a   | indolent.
312:358,11[A  ]| "When do you write to Colonel*Brandon, ma'am?"
312:358,12['  ]| was an inquiry which sprung from the impatience of
312:358,13['  ]| her mind to have something going on.
312:358,14[D  ]| "I wrote to him, my love, last week, and rather
312:358,15[D  ]| expect to see, than to hear from him again.  I earnestly
312:358,16[D  ]| pressed his coming to us, and should not be surprised to
312:358,17[D  ]| see him walk in to-day or to-morrow, or any day."
312:358,18['  ]| This was gaining something, something to look forward
312:358,19['  ]| to.  Colonel*Brandon \must\ have some information to give.
312:358,20['  ]| Scarcely had she so determined it, when the figure
312:358,21['  ]| of a man on horseback drew her eyes to the window.  He
312:358,22['  ]| stopt at their gate.
312:358,22@a   | It was a gentleman, it was Colonel*Brandon
312:358,23@a   | himself.  Now she should hear more; and she
312:358,24@a   | trembled in expectation of it.  But ~~ it was \not\ Colonel*Brandon
312:358,25@a   | ~~ neither his air ~~ nor his height.  Were it
312:358,26@a   | possible, she should say it must be Edward.
312:358,26['  ]| She
312:358,27['  ]| looked again.
312:358,27@a   | He had just dismounted; ~~ she could
312:358,28@a   | not be mistaken; ~~ it \was\ Edward.
312:358,28['  ]| She moved away
312:358,29['  ]| and sat down.
312:358,29[A  ]| "He comes from Mr%*Pratt's purposely
312:358,30[A  ]| to see us.  I \will\ be calm; I \will\ be mistress of myself."
312:358,31['  ]| In a moment she perceived that the others were
312:358,32['  ]| likewise aware of the mistake.  She saw her mother and
312:358,33['  ]| Marianne change colour; saw them look at herself, and
312:358,34['  ]| whisper a few sentences to each other.  She would have
312:358,35['  ]| given the world to be able to speak ~~ and to make them
312:358,36['  ]| understand that she hoped no coolness, no slight, would
312:358,37['  ]| appear in their behaviour to him; ~~ but she had no utterance,
312:358,38['  ]| and was obliged to leave all to their own discretion.
312:359,01['  ]| Not a syllable passed aloud.  They all waited in silence
312:359,02['  ]| for the appearance of their visitor.  His footsteps were
312:359,03['  ]| heard along the gravel path; in a moment he was in
312:359,04['  ]| the passage; and in another, he was before them.
312:359,05['  ]| His countenance, as he entered the room, was not
312:359,06['  ]| too happy, even for Elinor.  His complexion was white
312:359,07['  ]| with agitation, and he looked as if fearful of his reception,
312:359,08['  ]| and conscious that he merited no kind one.  Mrs%*Dashwood,
312:359,09['  ]| however, conforming, as she trusted, to the
312:359,10['  ]| wishes of that daughter, by whom she then meant in
312:359,11['  ]| the warmth of her heart to be guided in everything,
312:359,12['  ]| met him with a look of forced complacency, gave him
312:359,13['  ]| her hand, and wished him joy.
312:359,14['  ]| He coloured, and stammered out an unintelligible
312:359,15['  ]| reply.  Elinor's lips had moved with her mother's, and
312:359,16['  ]| when the moment of action was over, she wished that
312:359,17['  ]| she had shaken hands with him too.  But it was then too
312:359,18['  ]| late, and with a countenance meaning to be open, she
312:359,19['  ]| sat down again and talked of the weather.
312:359,20['  ]| Marianne had retreated as much as possible out of
312:359,21['  ]| sight, to conceal her distress; and Margaret, understanding
312:359,22['  ]| some part, but not the whole, of the case,
312:359,23['  ]| thought it incumbent on her to be dignified, and therefore
312:359,24['  ]| took a seat as far from him as she could, and
312:359,25['  ]| maintained a strict silence.
312:359,26['  ]| When Elinor had ceased to rejoice in the dryness of
312:359,27['  ]| the season, a very awful pause took place.  It was put
312:359,28['  ]| an end to by Mrs%*Dashwood, who felt obliged
312:359,28@d   | to hope
312:359,29@d   | that he had left Mrs%*Ferrars very well.
312:359,29['  ]| In an hurried
312:359,30['  ]| manner, he replied in the affirmative.
312:359,31['  ]| Another pause.
312:359,32['  ]| Elinor, resolving to exert herself, though fearing the
312:359,33['  ]| sound of her own voice, now said,
312:359,34[A  ]| "Is Mrs%*Ferrars at Longstaple?"
312:359,35[B  ]| "At Longstaple!"
312:359,35['  ]| he replied, with an air of surprise ~~
312:359,36[B  ]| "No, my mother is in town."
312:359,37[A  ]| "I meant,"
312:359,37['  ]| said Elinor, taking up some work from
312:359,38['  ]| the table,
312:359,38[A  ]| "to inquire after Mrs%*\Edward\*Ferrars."
312:360,01['  ]| She dared not look up; ~~ but her mother and Marianne
312:360,02['  ]| both turned their eyes on him.  He coloured, seemed
312:360,03['  ]| perplexed, looked doubtingly, and after some hesitation,
312:360,04['  ]| said,
312:360,05[B  ]| "Perhaps you mean ~~ my brother ~~ you mean Mrs%
312:360,06[B  ]| ~~ Mrs%*\Robert\*Ferrars."
312:360,07[Y  ]| "Mrs%*Robert*Ferrars!" ~~
312:360,07['  ]| was repeated by Marianne
312:360,08['  ]| and her mother, in an accent of the utmost amazement;
312:360,09['  ]| ~~ and though Elinor could not speak, even \her\ eyes
312:360,10['  ]| were fixed on him with the same impatient wonder.  He
312:360,11['  ]| rose from his seat and walked to the window, apparently
312:360,12['  ]| from not knowing what to do; took up a pair of scissars
312:360,13['  ]| that lay there, and while spoiling both them and their
312:360,14['  ]| sheath by cutting the latter to pieces as he spoke, said,
312:360,15['  ]| in an hurried voice,
312:360,16[B  ]| "Perhaps you do not know ~~ you may not have
312:360,17[B  ]| heard that my brother is lately married to ~~ to the
312:360,18[B  ]| youngest ~~ to Miss*Lucy*Steele."
312:360,19['  ]| His words were echoed with unspeakable astonishment
312:360,20['  ]| by all but Elinor, who sat with her head leaning
312:360,21['  ]| over her work, in a state of such agitation as made her
312:360,22['  ]| hardly know where she was.
312:360,23[B  ]| "Yes,"
312:360,23['  ]| said he,
312:360,23[B  ]| "they were married last week, and
312:360,24[B  ]| are now at Dawlish."
312:360,25['  ]| Elinor could sit it no longer.  She almost ran out of
312:360,26['  ]| the room, and as soon as the door was closed, burst into
312:360,27['  ]| tears of joy, which at first she thought would never cease.
312:360,28['  ]| Edward, who had till then looked any*where, rather
312:360,29['  ]| than at her, saw her hurry away, and perhaps saw ~~
312:360,30['  ]| or even heard, her emotion; for immediately afterwards
312:360,31['  ]| he fell into a reverie, which no remarks, no inquiries,
312:360,32['  ]| no affectionate address of Mrs%*Dashwood could penetrate,
312:360,33['  ]| and at last, without saying a word, quitted the room,
312:360,34['  ]| and walked out towards the village ~~ leaving the others
312:360,35['  ]| in the greatest astonishment and perplexity on a change
312:360,36['  ]| in his situation, so wonderful and so sudden; ~~ a perplexity
312:360,37['  ]| which they had no means of lessening but by
312:360,38['  ]| their own conjectures.
313:361,01['  ]| Unaccountable, however, as the circumstances of
313:361,02['  ]| his release might appear to the whole family, it was
313:361,03['  ]| certain that Edward was free:  and to what purpose
313:361,04['  ]| that freedom would be employed was easily pre-determined
313:361,05['  ]| by all; ~~ for after experiencing the blessings of
313:361,06['  ]| \one\ imprudent engagement, contracted without his
313:361,07['  ]| mother's consent, as he had already done for more than
313:361,08['  ]| four years, nothing less could be expected of him in the
313:361,09['  ]| failure of \that\, than the immediate contraction of another.
313:361,10['  ]| His errand at Barton, in fact, was a simple one.  It
313:361,11['  ]| was only to ask Elinor to marry him; ~~ and considering
313:361,12['  ]| that he was not altogether inexperienced in such a
313:361,13['  ]| question, it might be strange that he should feel so
313:361,14['  ]| uncomfortable in the present case as he really did, so
313:361,15['  ]| much in need of encouragement and fresh air.
313:361,16['  ]| How soon he had walked himself into the proper
313:361,17['  ]| resolution, however, how soon an opportunity of exercising
313:361,18['  ]| it occurred, in what manner he expressed himself,
313:361,19['  ]| and how he was received, need not be particularly told.
313:361,20['  ]| This only need be said; ~~ that when they all sat down
313:361,21['  ]| to table at four o'clock, about three hours after his arrival,
313:361,22['  ]| he had secured his lady, engaged her mother's consent,
313:361,23['  ]| and was not only in the rapturous profession of the lover,
313:361,24['  ]| but in the reality of reason and truth, one of the happiest
313:361,25['  ]| of men.  His situation indeed was more than commonly
313:361,26['  ]| joyful.  He had more than the ordinary triumph of
313:361,27['  ]| accepted love to swell his heart, and raise his spirits.
313:361,28['  ]| He was released without any reproach to himself, from
313:361,29['  ]| an entanglement which had long formed his misery,
313:361,30['  ]| from a woman whom he had long ceased to love; ~~ and
313:361,31['  ]| elevated at once to that security with another, which
313:361,32['  ]| he must have thought of almost with despair, as soon as
313:361,33['  ]| he had learnt to consider it with desire.  He was brought,
313:361,34['  ]| not from doubt or suspense, but from misery to happiness;
313:362,01['  ]| ~~ and the change was openly spoken in such
313:362,02['  ]| a genuine, flowing, grateful cheerfulness, as his friends
313:362,03['  ]| had never witnessed in him before.
313:362,04['  ]| His heart was now open to Elinor, all its weaknesses,
313:362,05['  ]| all its errors confessed, and his first boyish attachment
313:362,06['  ]| to Lucy treated with all the philosophic dignity of
313:362,07['  ]| twenty-four.
313:362,08[B  ]| "It was a foolish, idle inclination on my side,"
313:362,08['  ]| said
313:362,09['  ]| he,
313:362,09[B  ]| "the consequence of ignorance of the world ~~ and
313:362,10[B  ]| want of employment.  Had my mother given me some
313:362,11[B  ]| active profession when I was removed at eighteen from
313:362,12[B  ]| the care of Mr%*Pratt, I think ~~ nay, I am sure, it would
313:362,13[B  ]| never have happened; for though I left Longstaple
313:362,14[B  ]| with what I thought, at the time, a most unconquerable
313:362,15[B  ]| preference for his niece, yet had I then had any pursuit,
313:362,16[B  ]| any object to engage my time and keep me at a distance
313:362,17[B  ]| from her for a few months, I should very soon have
313:362,18[B  ]| outgrown the fancied attachment, especially by mixing
313:362,19[B  ]| more with the world, as in such a case I must have done.
313:362,20[B  ]| But instead of having anything to do, instead of having
313:362,21[B  ]| any profession chosen for me, or being allowed to chuse
313:362,22[B  ]| any myself, I returned home to be completely idle;
313:362,23[B  ]| and for the first twelvemonth afterwards, I had not
313:362,24[B  ]| even the nominal employment, which belonging to
313:362,25[B  ]| the university would have given me, for I was not
313:362,26[B  ]| entered at Oxford till I was nineteen.  I had therefore
313:362,27[B  ]| nothing in the world to do, but to fancy myself in love;
313:362,28[B  ]| and as my mother did not make my home in every
313:362,29[B  ]| respect comfortable, as I had no friend, no companion
313:362,30[B  ]| in my brother, and disliked new acquaintance, it was
313:362,31[B  ]| not unnatural for me to be very often at Longstaple,
313:362,32[B  ]| where I always felt myself at home, and was always sure
313:362,33[B  ]| of a welcome; and accordingly I spent the greatest part
313:362,34[B  ]| of my time there from eighteen to nineteen:  Lucy
313:362,35[B  ]| appeared everything that was amiable and obliging.
313:362,36[B  ]| She was pretty too ~~ at least I thought so \then\, and I had
313:362,37[B  ]| seen so little of other women, that I could make no
313:362,38[B  ]| comparisons, and see no defects.  Considering everything,
313:362,39[B  ]| therefore, I hope, foolish as our engagement was, foolish as
313:363,01[B  ]| it has since in every way been proved, it was not at the
313:363,02[B  ]| time an unnatural, or an inexcusable piece of folly."
313:363,03['  ]| The change which a few hours had wrought in the
313:363,04['  ]| minds and the happiness of the Dashwoods, was such ~~
313:363,05['  ]| so great ~~ as promised them all, the satisfaction of a
313:363,06['  ]| sleepless night.  Mrs%*Dashwood, too happy to be comfortable,
313:363,07['  ]| knew not how to love Edward, nor praise Elinor
313:363,08['  ]| enough, how to be enough thankful for his release
313:363,09['  ]| without wounding his delicacy, nor how at once to give
313:363,10['  ]| them leisure for unrestrained conversation together, and
313:363,11['  ]| yet enjoy, as she wished, the sight and society of both.
313:363,12['  ]| Marianne could speak \her\ happiness only by tears.
313:363,13['  ]| Comparisons would occur ~~ regrets would arise; ~~ and
313:363,14['  ]| her joy, though sincere as her love for her sister, was of
313:363,15['  ]| a kind to give her neither spirits nor language.
313:363,16['  ]| But Elinor ~~ How are \her\ feelings to be described? ~~
313:363,17['  ]| From the moment of learning that Lucy was married
313:363,18['  ]| to another, that Edward was free, to the moment of his
313:363,19['  ]| justifying the hopes which had so instantly followed,
313:363,20['  ]| she was everything by turns but tranquil.  But when
313:363,21['  ]| the second moment had passed, when she found every
313:363,22['  ]| doubt, every solicitude removed, compared her situation
313:363,23['  ]| with what so lately it had been, ~~ saw him honourably
313:363,24['  ]| released from his former engagement, saw him instantly
313:363,25['  ]| profiting by the release, to address herself and declare
313:363,26['  ]| an affection as tender, as constant as she had ever supposed
313:363,27['  ]| it to be, ~~ she was oppressed, she was overcome
313:363,28['  ]| by her own felicity; ~~ and happily disposed as is the
313:363,29['  ]| human mind to be easily familiarized with any change
313:363,30['  ]| for the better, it required several hours to give sedateness
313:363,31['  ]| to her spirits, or any degree of tranquillity to her heart.
313:363,32['  ]| Edward was now fixed at the cottage at least for a
313:363,33['  ]| week; ~~ for whatever other claims might be made on
313:363,34['  ]| him, it was impossible that less than a week should be
313:363,35['  ]| given up to the enjoyment of Elinor's company, or suffice
313:363,36['  ]| to say half that was to be said of the past, the present,
313:363,37['  ]| and the future; ~~ for though a very few hours spent
313:363,38['  ]| in the hard labour of incessant talking will dispatch
313:363,39['  ]| more subjects than can really be in common between
313:364,01['  ]| any two rational creatures, yet with lovers it is different.
313:364,02['  ]| Between \them\ no subject is finished, no communication is
313:364,03['  ]| even made, till it has been made at least twenty times over.
313:364,04['  ]| Lucy's marriage, the unceasing and reasonable wonder
313:364,05['  ]| among them all, formed of course one of the earliest
313:364,06['  ]| discussions of the lovers; ~~ and Elinor's particular knowledge
313:364,07['  ]| of each party made it appear to her in every view,
313:364,08['  ]| as one of the most extraordinary and unaccountable
313:364,09['  ]| circumstances she had ever heard.  How they could be
313:364,10['  ]| thrown together, and by what attraction Robert could
313:364,11['  ]| be drawn on to marry a girl, of whose beauty she had
313:364,12['  ]| herself heard him speak without any admiration, ~~ a girl
313:364,13['  ]| too already engaged to his brother, and on whose account
313:364,14['  ]| that brother had been thrown off by his family ~~ it was
313:364,15['  ]| beyond her comprehension to make out.  To her own
313:364,16['  ]| heart it was a delightful affair, to her imagination it was
313:364,17['  ]| even a ridiculous one, but to her reason, her judgment,
313:364,18['  ]| it was completely a puzzle.
313:364,19['  ]| Edward could only attempt an explanation by supposing,
313:364,20['  ]| that perhaps at first accidentally meeting, the
313:364,21['  ]| vanity of the one had been so worked on by the flattery
313:364,22['  ]| of the other, as to lead by degrees to all the rest.  Elinor
313:364,23['  ]| remembered what Robert had told her in Harley-street,
313:364,24['  ]| of his opinion of what his own mediation in his brother's
313:364,25['  ]| affairs might have done, if applied to in time.  She
313:364,26['  ]| repeated it to Edward.
313:364,27[B  ]| "\That\ was exactly like Robert," ~~
313:364,27['  ]| was his immediate
313:364,28['  ]| observation. ~~
313:364,28[B  ]| "And \that\,"
313:364,28['  ]| he presently added,
313:364,28[B  ]| "might
313:364,29[B  ]| perhaps be in \his\ head when the acquaintance between
313:364,30[B  ]| them first began.  And Lucy perhaps at first might think
313:364,31[B  ]| only of procuring his good offices in my favour.  Other
313:364,32[B  ]| designs might afterwards arise."
313:364,33['  ]| How long it had been carrying on between them,
313:364,34['  ]| however, he was equally at a loss with herself to make
313:364,35['  ]| out; for at Oxford, where he had remained by choice
313:364,36['  ]| ever since his quitting London, he had had no means
313:364,37['  ]| of hearing of her but from herself, and her letters to
313:364,38['  ]| the very last were neither less frequent, nor less affectionate
313:364,39['  ]| than usual.  Not the smallest suspicion, therefore,
313:365,01['  ]| had ever occurred to prepare him for what followed; ~~
313:365,02['  ]| and when at last it burst on him in a letter from Lucy
313:365,03['  ]| herself, he had been for some time, he believed, half
313:365,04['  ]| stupified between the wonder, the horror, and the joy of
313:365,05['  ]| such a deliverance.  He put the letter into Elinor's hands.
313:365,06[Q  ]| "Dear Sir,
313:365,07[Q  ]| Being very sure I have long lost your affections,
313:365,08[Q  ]| I have thought myself at liberty to bestow my own on
313:365,09[Q  ]| another, and have no doubt of being as happy with him
313:365,10[Q  ]| as I once used to think I might be with you; but I scorn
313:365,11[Q  ]| to accept a hand while the heart was another's.  Sincerely
313:365,12[Q  ]| wish you happy in your choice, and it shall not be my fault
313:365,13[Q  ]| if we are not always good friends, as our near relationship
313:365,14[Q  ]| now makes proper.  I can safely say I owe you no ill-will,
313:365,15[Q  ]| and am sure you will be too generous to do us any ill
313:365,16[Q  ]| offices.  Your brother has gained my affections entirely,
313:365,17[Q  ]| and as we could not live without one another, we are
313:365,18[Q  ]| just returned from the altar, and are now on our way to
313:365,19[Q  ]| Dawlish for a few weeks, which place your dear brother
313:365,20[Q  ]| has great curiosity to see, but thought I would first
313:365,21[Q  ]| trouble you with these few lines, and shall always remain,
313:365,22[Q  ]| Your sincere well-wisher, friend, and sister,
313:365,23[Q  ]| LUCY*FERRARS.
313:365,24[Q  ]| I have burnt all your letters, and will return your
313:365,25[Q  ]| picture the first opportunity.  Please to destroy my
313:365,26[Q  ]| scrawls ~~ but the ring with my hair you are very welcome
313:365,27[Q  ]| to keep."
313:365,28[Q  ]|
313:365,29['  ]| Elinor read and returned it without any comment.
313:365,30[B  ]| "I will not ask your opinion of it as a composition,"
313:365,31['  ]| said Edward. ~~
313:365,31[B  ]| "For worlds would not I have had
313:365,32[B  ]| a letter of her's seen by \you\ in former days. ~~ In a sister
313:365,33[B  ]| it is bad enough, but in a wife! ~~ how I have blushed
313:365,34[B  ]| over the pages of her writing! ~~ and I believe I may
313:365,35[B  ]| say that since the first half year of our foolish ~~ business
313:365,36[B  ]| ~~ this is the only letter I ever received from her, of which
313:365,37[B  ]| the substance made me any amends for the defect of the
313:365,38[B  ]| style."
313:366,01[A  ]| "However it may have come about,"
313:366,01['  ]| said Elinor,
313:366,02['  ]| after a pause ~~
313:366,02[A  ]| "they are certainly married.  And your
313:366,03[A  ]| mother has brought on herself a most appropriate
313:366,04[A  ]| punishment.  The independence she settled on Robert,
313:366,05[A  ]| through resentment against you, has put it in his power
313:366,06[A  ]| to make his own choice; and she has actually been
313:366,07[A  ]| bribing one son with a thousand a-year, to do the very
313:366,08[A  ]| deed which she disinherited the other for intending to
313:366,09[A  ]| do.  She will hardly be less hurt, I suppose, by Robert's
313:366,10[A  ]| marrying Lucy, than she would have been by your
313:366,11[A  ]| marrying her."
313:366,12[B  ]| "She will be more hurt by it, for Robert always was
313:366,13[B  ]| her favourite. ~~ She will be more hurt by it, and on the
313:366,14[B  ]| same principle will forgive him much sooner."
313:366,15['  ]| In what state the affair stood at present between
313:366,16['  ]| them, Edward knew not, for no communication with any
313:366,17['  ]| of his family had yet been attempted by him.  He had
313:366,18['  ]| quitted Oxford within four*and*twenty hours after
313:366,19['  ]| Lucy's letter arrived, and with only one object before
313:366,20['  ]| him, the nearest road to Barton, had had no leisure to
313:366,21['  ]| form any scheme of conduct, with which that road did not
313:366,22['  ]| hold the most intimate connection.  He could do nothing
313:366,23['  ]| till he were assured of his fate with Miss*Dashwood; and
313:366,24['  ]| by his rapidity in seeking \that\ fate, it is to be supposed,
313:366,25['  ]| in spite of the jealousy with which he had once thought
313:366,26['  ]| of Colonel*Brandon, in spite of the modesty with which
313:366,27['  ]| he rated his own deserts, and the politeness with which
313:366,28['  ]| he talked of his doubts, he did not, upon the whole,
313:366,29['  ]| expect a very cruel reception.  It was his business, however,
313:366,30['  ]| to say that he \did\, and he said it very prettily.
313:366,31['  ]| What he might say on the subject a twelvemonth after,
313:366,32['  ]| must be referred to the imagination of husbands and
313:366,33['  ]| wives.
313:366,34['  ]| That Lucy had certainly meant to deceive, to go off
313:366,35['  ]| with a flourish of malice against him in her message
313:366,36['  ]| by Thomas, was perfectly clear to Elinor; and Edward
313:366,37['  ]| himself, now thoroughly enlightened on her character,
313:366,38['  ]| had no scruple in believing her capable of the utmost
313:366,39['  ]| meanness of wanton ill-nature.  Though his eyes had
313:367,01['  ]| been long opened, even before his acquaintance with
313:367,02['  ]| Elinor began, to her ignorance and a want of liberality
313:367,03['  ]| in some of her opinions ~~ they had been equally imputed,
313:367,04['  ]| by him, to her want of education; and till her last letter
313:367,05['  ]| reached him, he had always believed her to be a well-disposed,
313:367,06['  ]| good-hearted girl, and thoroughly attached
313:367,07['  ]| to himself.  Nothing but such a persuasion could have
313:367,08['  ]| prevented his putting an end to an engagement, which,
313:367,09['  ]| long before the discovery of it laid him open to his
313:367,10['  ]| mother's anger, had been a continual source of disquiet
313:367,11['  ]| and regret to him.
313:367,12[B  ]| "I thought it my duty,"
313:367,12['  ]| said he,
313:367,12[B  ]| "independent of
313:367,13[B  ]| my feelings, to give her the option of continuing the
313:367,14[B  ]| engagement or not, when I was renounced by my mother,
313:367,15[B  ]| and stood to all appearance without a friend in the
313:367,16[B  ]| world to assist me.  In such a situation as that, where
313:367,17[B  ]| there seemed nothing to tempt the avarice or the vanity
313:367,18[B  ]| of any living creature, how could I suppose, when she
313:367,19[B  ]| so earnestly, so warmly insisted on sharing my fate,
313:367,20[B  ]| whatever it might be, that any*thing but the most
313:367,21[B  ]| disinterested affection was her inducement?  And
313:367,22[B  ]| even now, I cannot comprehend on what motive she
313:367,23[B  ]| acted, or what fancied advantage it could be to her, to
313:367,24[B  ]| be fettered to a man for whom she had not the smallest
313:367,25[B  ]| regard, and who had only two thousand pounds in the
313:367,26[B  ]| world.  She could not foresee that Colonel*Brandon
313:367,27[B  ]| would give me a living."
313:367,28[A  ]| "No, but she might suppose that something would
313:367,29[A  ]| occur in your favour; that your own family might in time
313:367,30[A  ]| relent.  And at any rate, she lost nothing by continuing
313:367,31[A  ]| the engagement, for she has proved that it fettered
313:367,32[A  ]| neither her inclination nor her actions.  The connection
313:367,33[A  ]| was certainly a respectable one, and probably gained
313:367,34[A  ]| her consideration among her friends; and, if nothing
313:367,35[A  ]| more advantageous occurred, it would be better for her
313:367,36[A  ]| to marry \you\ than be single."
313:367,37['  ]| Edward was of course immediately convinced that
313:367,38['  ]| nothing could have been more natural than Lucy's conduct,
313:367,39['  ]| nor more self-evident than the motive of it.
313:368,01['  ]| Elinor scolded him, harshly as ladies always scold the
313:368,02['  ]| imprudence which compliments themselves, for having
313:368,03['  ]| spent so much time with them at Norland, when he
313:368,04['  ]| must have felt his own inconstancy.
313:368,05[A  ]| "Your behaviour was certainly very wrong,"
313:368,05['  ]| said she,
313:368,06[A  ]| "because ~~ to say nothing of my own conviction, our
313:368,07[A  ]| relations were all led away by it to fancy and expect
313:368,08[A  ]| \what\, as you were \then\ situated, could never be."
313:368,09['  ]| He could only plead an ignorance of his own heart,
313:368,10['  ]| and a mistaken confidence in the force of his engagement.
313:368,11[B  ]| "I was simple enough to think, that because my \faith\
313:368,12[B  ]| was plighted to another, there could be no danger in
313:368,13[B  ]| my being with you; and that the consciousness of my
313:368,14[B  ]| engagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred as
313:368,15[B  ]| my honour.  I felt that I admired you, but I told myself
313:368,16[B  ]| it was only friendship; and till I began to make comparisons
313:368,17[B  ]| between yourself and Lucy, I did not know how
313:368,18[B  ]| far I was got.  After that, I suppose, I \was\ wrong in
313:368,19[B  ]| remaining so much in Sussex, and the arguments with
313:368,20[B  ]| which I reconciled myself to the expediency of it, were
313:368,21[B  ]| no better than these: ~~ The danger is my own; I am
313:368,22[B  ]| doing no injury to anybody but myself."
313:368,23['  ]| Elinor smiled, and shook her head.
313:368,24['  ]| Edward heard with pleasure of Colonel*Brandon's
313:368,25['  ]| being expected at the Cottage, as he really wished not
313:368,26['  ]| only to be better acquainted with him, but to have
313:368,27['  ]| an opportunity of convincing him that he no longer
313:368,28['  ]| resented his giving him the living of Delaford ~~
313:368,28[B  ]| "Which,
313:368,29[B  ]| at present,"
313:368,29['  ]| said he,
313:368,29[B  ]| "after thanks so ungraciously
313:368,30[B  ]| delivered as mine were on the occasion, he must think
313:368,31[B  ]| I have never forgiven him for offering."
313:368,32['  ]| \Now\ he felt astonished himself that he had never yet
313:368,33['  ]| been to the place.  But so little interest had he taken
313:368,34['  ]| in the matter, that he owed all his knowledge of the
313:368,35['  ]| house, garden, and glebe, extent of the parish, condition
313:368,36['  ]| of the land, and rate of the tythes, to Elinor herself,
313:368,37['  ]| who had heard so much of it from Colonel*Brandon,
313:368,38['  ]| and heard it with so much attention, as to be entirely
313:368,39['  ]| mistress of the subject.
313:369,01['  ]| One question after this only remained undecided,
313:369,02['  ]| between them, one difficulty only was to be overcome.
313:369,03['  ]| They were brought together by mutual affection, with
313:369,04['  ]| the warmest approbation of their real friends, their
313:369,05['  ]| intimate knowledge of each other seemed to make their
313:369,06['  ]| happiness certain ~~ and they only wanted something
313:369,07['  ]| to live upon.  Edward had two thousand pounds, and
313:369,08['  ]| Elinor one, which, with Delaford living, was all that they
313:369,09['  ]| could call their own; for it was impossible that Mrs%*Dashwood
313:369,10['  ]| should advance anything, and they were
313:369,11['  ]| neither of them quite enough in love to think that three
313:369,12['  ]| hundred and fifty pounds a-year would supply them
313:369,13['  ]| with the comforts of life.
313:369,14['  ]| Edward was not entirely without hopes of some
313:369,15['  ]| favourable change in his mother towards him; and on
313:369,16['  ]| \that\ he rested for the residue of their income.  But Elinor
313:369,17['  ]| had no such dependance; for since Edward would still
313:369,18['  ]| be unable to marry Miss*Morton, and his chusing herself
313:369,19['  ]| had been spoken of in Mrs%*Ferrars's flattering language
313:369,20['  ]| as only a lesser evil than his chusing Lucy*Steele, she
313:369,21['  ]| feared that Robert's offence would serve no other
313:369,22['  ]| purpose than to enrich Fanny.
313:369,23['  ]| About four days after Edward's arrival, Colonel*Brandon
313:369,24['  ]| appeared, to complete Mrs%*Dashwood's satisfaction,
313:369,25['  ]| and to give her the dignity of having, for the
313:369,26['  ]| first time since her living at Barton, more company with
313:369,27['  ]| her than her house would hold.  Edward was allowed
313:369,28['  ]| to retain the privilege of first comer, and Colonel*Brandon
313:369,29['  ]| therefore walked every night to his old quarters at the
313:369,30['  ]| Park; from whence he usually returned in the morning,
313:369,31['  ]| early enough to interrupt the lovers' first te^te-a`-te^te
313:369,32['  ]| before breakfast.
313:369,33['  ]| A three weeks' residence at Delaford, where, in his
313:369,34['  ]| evening hours at least, he had little to do but to calculate
313:369,35['  ]| the disproportion between thirty-six and seventeen,
313:369,36['  ]| brought him to Barton in a temper of mind which
313:369,37['  ]| needed all the improvement in Marianne's looks, all
313:369,38['  ]| the kindness of her welcome, and all the encouragement
313:369,39['  ]| of her mother's language, to make it cheerful.
313:370,01['  ]| Among such friends, however, and such flattery, he did
313:370,02['  ]| revive.  No rumour of Lucy's marriage had yet reached
313:370,03['  ]| him; ~~ he knew nothing of what had passed; and the
313:370,04['  ]| first hours of his visit were consequently spent in hearing
313:370,05['  ]| and in wondering.  Every*thing was explained to him
313:370,06['  ]| by Mrs%*Dashwood, and he found fresh reason to rejoice
313:370,07['  ]| in what he had done for Mr%*Ferrars, since eventually it
313:370,08['  ]| promoted the interest of Elinor.
313:370,09['  ]| It would be needless to say, that the gentlemen
313:370,10['  ]| advanced in the good opinion of each other, as they
313:370,11['  ]| advanced in each other's acquaintance, for it could not
313:370,12['  ]| be otherwise.  Their resemblance in good principles and
313:370,13['  ]| good sense, in disposition and manner of thinking, would
313:370,14['  ]| probably have been sufficient to unite them in friendship,
313:370,15['  ]| without any other attraction; but their being in love
313:370,16['  ]| with two sisters, and two sisters fond of each other,
313:370,17['  ]| made that mutual regard inevitable and immediate,
313:370,18['  ]| which might otherwise have waited the effect of time
313:370,19['  ]| and judgment.
313:370,20['  ]| The letters from town, which a few days before would
313:370,21['  ]| have made every nerve in Elinor's body thrill with transport,
313:370,22['  ]| now arrived to be read with less emotion than
313:370,23['  ]| mirth.  Mrs%*Jennings wrote to tell the wonderful tale,
313:370,24['  ]| to vent her honest indignation against the jilting girl,
313:370,25['  ]| and pour forth her compassion towards
313:370,25@k   | poor Mr%*Edward,
313:370,26@k   | who, she was sure, had quite doted upon the worthless
313:370,27@k   | hussey, and was now, by all accounts, almost broken-hearted,
313:370,28@k   | at Oxford. ~~
313:370,28[K  ]| "I do think,"
313:370,28['  ]| she continued,
313:370,29[K  ]| "nothing was ever carried on so sly; for it was but two
313:370,30[K  ]| days before Lucy called and sat a couple of hours with
313:370,31[K  ]| me.  Not a soul suspected anything of the matter, not
313:370,32[K  ]| even Nancy, who, poor soul! came crying to me the day
313:370,33[K  ]| after, in a great fright for fear of Mrs%*Ferrars, as well
313:370,34[K  ]| as not knowing how to get to Plymouth; for Lucy it
313:370,35[K  ]| seems borrowed all her money before she went off to
313:370,36[K  ]| be married, on purpose we suppose to make a shew with,
313:370,37[K  ]| and poor Nancy had not seven shillings in the world; ~~
313:370,38[K  ]| so I was very glad to give her five guineas to take her
313:370,39[K  ]| down to Exeter, where she thinks of staying three or
313:371,01[K  ]| four weeks with Mrs%*Burgess, in hopes, as I tell her, to
313:371,02[K  ]| fall in with the Doctor again.  And I must say that
313:371,03[K  ]| Lucy's crossness not to take her along with them in the
313:371,04[K  ]| chaise is worse than all.  Poor Mr%*Edward!  I cannot
313:371,05[K  ]| get him out of my head, but you must send for him to
313:371,06[K  ]| Barton, and Miss*Marianne must try to comfort him."
313:371,07['  ]| Mr%*Dashwood's strains were more solemn.
313:371,07@f   | Mrs%*Ferrars
313:371,08@f   | was the most unfortunate of women ~~ poor
313:371,09@f   | Fanny had suffered agonies of sensibility ~~ and he
313:371,10@f   | considered the existence of each, under such a blow,
313:371,11@f   | with grateful wonder.  Robert's offence was unpardonable,
313:371,12@f   | but Lucy's was infinitely worse.  Neither of them
313:371,13@f   | was ever again to be mentioned to Mrs%*Ferrars; and
313:371,14@f   | even, if she might hereafter be induced to forgive her
313:371,15@f   | son, his wife should never be acknowledged as her
313:371,16@f   | daughter, nor be permitted to appear in her presence.
313:371,17['  ]| The secrecy with which every*thing had been carried on
313:371,18['  ]| between them, was rationally treated as enormously
313:371,19['  ]| heightening the crime, because, had any suspicion of it
313:371,20['  ]| occurred to the others, proper measures would have
313:371,21['  ]| been taken to prevent the marriage; and he called on
313:371,22['  ]| Elinor to join with him in regretting that Lucy's engagement
313:371,23['  ]| with Edward had not rather been fulfilled, than
313:371,24['  ]| that she should thus be the means of spreading misery
313:371,25['  ]| farther in the family. ~~ He thus continued:
313:371,26[F  ]| "Mrs%*Ferrars has never yet mentioned Edward's
313:371,27[F  ]| name, which does not surprise us; but to our great
313:371,28[F  ]| astonishment, not a line has been received from him
313:371,29[F  ]| on the occasion.  Perhaps, however, he is kept silent
313:371,30[F  ]| by his fear of offending, and I shall, therefore, give him
313:371,31[F  ]| a hint, by a line to Oxford, that his sister and I both
313:371,32[F  ]| think a letter of proper submission from him, addressed
313:371,33[F  ]| perhaps to Fanny, and by her shewn to her mother,
313:371,34[F  ]| might not be taken amiss; for we all know the tenderness
313:371,35[F  ]| of Mrs%*Ferrars's heart, and that she wishes for
313:371,36[F  ]| nothing so much as to be on good terms with her children."
313:371,38['  ]| This paragraph was of some importance to the
313:371,39['  ]| prospects and conduct of Edward.  It determined him
313:372,01['  ]| to attempt a reconciliation, though not exactly in the
313:372,02['  ]| manner pointed out by their brother and sister.
313:372,03[B  ]| "A letter of proper submission!"
313:372,03['  ]| repeated he;
313:372,04[B  ]| "would they have me beg my mother's pardon for
313:372,05[B  ]| Robert's ingratitude to \her\, and breach of honour to
313:372,06[B  ]| \me\? ~~ I can make no submission ~~ I am grown neither
313:372,07[B  ]| humble nor penitent by what has passed. ~~ I am grown
313:372,08[B  ]| very happy, but that would not interest. ~~ I know of no
313:372,09[B  ]| submission that \is\ proper for me to make."
313:372,10[A  ]| "You may certainly ask to be forgiven,"
313:372,10['  ]| said Elinor,
313:372,11[A  ]| "because you have offended; ~~ and I should think you
313:372,12[A  ]| might \now\ venture so far as to profess some concern for
313:372,13[A  ]| having ever formed the engagement which drew on you
313:372,14[A  ]| your mother's anger."
313:372,15['  ]| He agreed that he might.
313:372,16[A  ]| "And when she has forgiven you, perhaps a little
313:372,17[A  ]| humility may be convenient while acknowledging
313:372,18[A  ]| a second engagement, almost as imprudent in \her\ eyes,
313:372,19[A  ]| as the first."
313:372,20['  ]| He had nothing to urge against it, but still resisted
313:372,21['  ]| the idea of a letter of proper submission; and therefore,
313:372,22['  ]| to make it easier to him, as he declared a much greater
313:372,23['  ]| willingness to make mean concessions by word of mouth
313:372,24['  ]| than on paper, it was resolved that, instead of writing
313:372,25['  ]| to Fanny, he should go to London, and personally
313:372,26['  ]| intreat her good offices in his favour. ~~
313:372,26[C  ]| "And if they
313:372,27[C  ]| really \do\ interest themselves,"
313:372,27['  ]| said Marianne, in her new
313:372,28['  ]| character of candour,
313:372,28[C  ]| "in bringing about a reconciliation,
313:372,29[C  ]| I shall think that even John and Fanny are not entirely
313:372,30[C  ]| without merit."
313:372,31['  ]| After a visit on Colonel*Brandon's side of only three
313:372,32['  ]| or four days, the two gentlemen quitted Barton together.
313:372,33['  ]| ~~ They were to go immediately to Delaford, that Edward
313:372,34['  ]| might have some personal knowledge of his future home,
313:372,35['  ]| and assist his patron and friend in deciding on what
313:372,36['  ]| improvements were needed to it; and from thence,
313:372,37['  ]| after staying there a couple of nights, he was to proceed
313:372,38['  ]| on his journey to town.
314:373,01['  ]| After a proper resistance on the part of Mrs%*Ferrars,
314:373,02['  ]| just so violent and so steady as to preserve her from
314:373,03['  ]| that reproach which she always seemed fearful of
314:373,04['  ]| incurring, the reproach of being too amiable, Edward
314:373,05['  ]| was admitted to her presence, and pronounced to be
314:373,06['  ]| again her son.
314:373,07['  ]| Her family had of late been exceedingly fluctuating.
314:373,08['  ]| For many years of her life she had had two sons; but
314:373,09['  ]| the crime and annihilation of Edward a few weeks ago,
314:373,10['  ]| had robbed her of one; the similar annihilation of
314:373,11['  ]| Robert had left her for a fortnight without any; and
314:373,12['  ]| now, by the resuscitation of Edward, she had one again.
314:373,13['  ]| In spite of his being allowed once more to live, however,
314:373,14['  ]| he did not feel the continuance of his existence secure,
314:373,15['  ]| till he had revealed his present engagement; for the
314:373,16['  ]| publication of that circumstance, he feared, might give
314:373,17['  ]| a sudden turn to his constitution, and carry him off as
314:373,18['  ]| rapidly as before.  With apprehensive caution therefore
314:373,19['  ]| it was revealed, and he was listened to with unexpected
314:373,20['  ]| calmness.  Mrs%*Ferrars at first reasonably endeavoured
314:373,21['  ]| to dissuade him from marrying Miss*Dashwood, by
314:373,22['  ]| every argument in her power; ~~ told him, that
314:373,22@i   | in Miss*Morton
314:373,23@i   | he would have a woman of higher rank and
314:373,24@i   | larger fortune; ~~
314:373,24['  ]| and enforced the assertion, by observing
314:373,25['  ]| that
314:373,25@i   | Miss*Morton was the daughter of a nobleman
314:373,26@i   | with thirty thousand pounds, while Miss*Dashwood
314:373,27@i   | was only the daughter of a private gentleman, with no
314:373,28@i   | more than \three\;
314:373,28['  ]| but when she found that, though
314:373,29['  ]| perfectly admitting the truth of her representation, he
314:373,30['  ]| was by no means inclined to be guided by it, she judged
314:373,31['  ]| it wisest, from the experience of the past, to submit ~~
314:373,32['  ]| and therefore, after such an ungracious delay as she owed
314:373,33['  ]| to her own dignity, and as served to prevent every
314:374,01['  ]| suspicion of good-will, she issued her decree of consent
314:374,02['  ]| to the marriage of Edward and Elinor.
314:374,03['  ]| What she would engage to do towards augmenting
314:374,04['  ]| their income, was next to be considered; and here it
314:374,05['  ]| plainly appeared, that though Edward was now her only
314:374,06['  ]| son, he was by no means her eldest; for while Robert
314:374,07['  ]| was inevitably endowed with a thousand pounds a-year,
314:374,08['  ]| not the smallest objection was made against Edward's
314:374,09['  ]| taking orders for the sake of two hundred and fifty at
314:374,10['  ]| the utmost; nor was anything promised either for the
314:374,11['  ]| present or in future, beyond the ten thousand pounds,
314:374,12['  ]| which had been given with Fanny.
314:374,13['  ]| It was as much, however, as was desired, and more
314:374,14['  ]| than was expected by Edward and Elinor; and Mrs%*Ferrars
314:374,15['  ]| herself, by her shuffling excuses, seemed the only
314:374,16['  ]| person surprised at her not giving more.
314:374,17['  ]| With an income quite sufficient to their wants thus
314:374,18['  ]| secured to them, they had nothing to wait for after
314:374,19['  ]| Edward was in possession of the living, but the readiness
314:374,20['  ]| of the house, to which Colonel*Brandon, with an eager
314:374,21['  ]| desire for the accommodation of Elinor, was making
314:374,22['  ]| considerable improvements; and after waiting some
314:374,23['  ]| time for their completion, after experiencing, as usual,
314:374,24['  ]| a thousand disappointments and delays, from the unaccountable
314:374,25['  ]| dilatoriness of the workmen, Elinor, as usual,
314:374,26['  ]| broke through the first positive resolution of not marrying
314:374,27['  ]| till every*thing was ready, and the ceremony took
314:374,28['  ]| place in Barton*church early in the autumn.
314:374,29['  ]| The first month after their marriage was spent with
314:374,30['  ]| their friend at the Mansion-house, from whence they could
314:374,31['  ]| superintend the progress of the Parsonage, and direct
314:374,32['  ]| every*thing as they liked on the spot; ~~ could chuse papers,
314:374,33['  ]| project shrubberies, and invent a sweep.  Mrs%*Jennings's
314:374,34['  ]| prophecies, though rather jumbled together, were chiefly
314:374,35['  ]| fulfilled; for she was able to visit Edward and his wife in
314:374,36['  ]| their Parsonage by Michaelmas, and she found in Elinor
314:374,37['  ]| and her husband, as she really believed, one of the happiest
314:374,38['  ]| couple in the world.  They had in fact nothing to wish
314:375,01['  ]| for, but the marriage of Colonel*Brandon and Marianne,
314:375,02['  ]| and rather better pasturage for their cows.
314:375,03['  ]| They were visited on their first settling by almost all
314:375,04['  ]| their relations and friends.  Mrs%*Ferrars came to inspect
314:375,05['  ]| the happiness which she was almost ashamed of
314:375,06['  ]| having authorised; and even the Dashwoods were at
314:375,07['  ]| the expense of a journey from Sussex to do them honour.
314:375,08[F  ]| "I will not say that I am disappointed, my dear
314:375,09[F  ]| sister,"
314:375,09['  ]| said John, as they were walking together one
314:375,10['  ]| morning before the gates of Delaford*House,
314:375,10[F  ]| "\that\ would
314:375,11[F  ]| be saying too much, for certainly you have been one of
314:375,12[F  ]| the most fortunate young women in the world, as it is.
314:375,13[F  ]| But, I confess, it would give me great pleasure to call
314:375,14[F  ]| Colonel*Brandon brother.  His property here, his place,
314:375,15[F  ]| his house, every*thing in such respectable and excellent
314:375,16[F  ]| condition! ~~ and his woods! ~~ I have not seen such
314:375,17[F  ]| timber any*where in Dorsetshire, as there is now standing
314:375,18[F  ]| in Delaford*Hanger! ~~ And though, perhaps, Marianne
314:375,19[F  ]| may not seem exactly the person to attract him ~~ yet I
314:375,20[F  ]| think it would altogether be adviseable for you to have
314:375,21[F  ]| them now frequently staying with you, for as Colonel*Brandon
314:375,22[F  ]| seems a great deal at home, nobody can tell
314:375,23[F  ]| what may happen ~~ for, when people are much thrown
314:375,24[F  ]| together, and see little of anybody else ~~ and it will
314:375,25[F  ]| always be in your power to set her off to advantage,
314:375,26[F  ]| and so forth; ~~ in short, you may as well give her a
314:375,27[F  ]| chance ~~ You understand me." ~~
314:375,28['  ]| But though Mrs%*Ferrars \did\ come to see them, and
314:375,29['  ]| always treated them with the make-believe of decent
314:375,30['  ]| affection, they were never insulted by her real favour
314:375,31['  ]| and preference.  \That\ was due to the folly of Robert, and
314:375,32['  ]| the cunning of his wife; and it was earned by them
314:375,33['  ]| before many months had passed away.  The selfish
314:375,34['  ]| sagacity of the latter, which had at first drawn Robert
314:375,35['  ]| into the scrape, was the principal instrument of his
314:375,36['  ]| deliverance from it; for her respectful humility, assiduous
314:375,37['  ]| attentions, and endless flatteries, as soon as the
314:375,38['  ]| smallest opening was given for their exercise, reconciled
314:376,01['  ]| Mrs%*Ferrars to his choice, and re-established him completely
314:376,02['  ]| in her favour.
314:376,03['  ]| The whole of Lucy's behaviour in the affair, and the
314:376,04['  ]| prosperity which crowned it, therefore, may be held forth
314:376,05['  ]| as a most encouraging instance of what an earnest, an
314:376,06['  ]| unceasing attention to self-interest, however its progress
314:376,07['  ]| may be apparently obstructed, will do in securing every
314:376,08['  ]| advantage of fortune, with no other sacrifice than that
314:376,09['  ]| of time and conscience.  When Robert first sought her
314:376,10['  ]| acquaintance, and privately visited her in Bartlett's*Buildings,
314:376,11['  ]| it was only with the view imputed to him by
314:376,12['  ]| his brother.  He merely meant to persuade her to give
314:376,13['  ]| up the engagement; and as there could be nothing to
314:376,14['  ]| overcome but the affection of both, he naturally expected
314:376,15['  ]| that one or two interviews would settle the matter.  In
314:376,16['  ]| that point, however, and that only, he erred; ~~ for
314:376,17['  ]| though Lucy soon gave him hopes that his eloquence
314:376,18['  ]| would convince her in \time\, another visit, another
314:376,19['  ]| conversation, was always wanted to produce this conviction.
314:376,20['  ]| Some doubts always lingered in her mind when
314:376,21['  ]| they parted, which could only be removed by another
314:376,22['  ]| half hour's discourse with himself.  His attendance was
314:376,23['  ]| by this means secured, and the rest followed in course.
314:376,24['  ]| Instead of talking of Edward, they came gradually to talk
314:376,25['  ]| only of Robert, ~~ a subject on which he had always more
314:376,26['  ]| to say than on any other, and in which she soon betrayed
314:376,27['  ]| an interest even equal to his own; and in short, it
314:376,28['  ]| became speedily evident to both, that he had entirely
314:376,29['  ]| supplanted his brother.  He was proud of his conquest,
314:376,30['  ]| proud of tricking Edward, and very proud of marrying
314:376,31['  ]| privately without his mother's consent.  What immediately
314:376,32['  ]| followed is known.  They passed some months in
314:376,33['  ]| great happiness at Dawlish; for she had many relations
314:376,34['  ]| and old acquaintance to cut ~~ and he drew several
314:376,35['  ]| plans for magnificent cottages; ~~ and from thence
314:376,36['  ]| returning to town, procured the forgiveness of Mrs%*Ferrars,
314:376,37['  ]| by the simple expedient of asking it, which,
314:376,38['  ]| at Lucy's instigation, was adopted.  The forgiveness at
314:377,01['  ]| first, indeed, as was reasonable, comprehended only
314:377,02['  ]| Robert; and Lucy, who had owed his mother no duty,
314:377,03['  ]| and therefore could have transgressed none, still remained
314:377,04['  ]| some weeks longer unpardoned.  But perseverance
314:377,05['  ]| in humility of conduct and messages, in self-condemnation
314:377,06['  ]| for Robert's offence, and gratitude for the unkindness
314:377,07['  ]| she was treated with, procured her in time the haughty
314:377,08['  ]| notice which overcame her by its graciousness, and led
314:377,09['  ]| soon afterwards, by rapid degrees, to the highest state
314:377,10['  ]| of affection and influence.  Lucy became as necessary
314:377,11['  ]| to Mrs%*Ferrars, as either Robert or Fanny; and while
314:377,12['  ]| Edward was never cordially forgiven for having once
314:377,13['  ]| intended to marry her, and Elinor, though superior to
314:377,14['  ]| her in fortune and birth, was spoken of as an intruder,
314:377,15['  ]| \she\ was in every*thing considered, and always openly
314:377,16['  ]| acknowledged, to be a favourite child.  They settled in
314:377,17['  ]| town, received very liberal assistance from Mrs%*Ferrars,
314:377,18['  ]| were on the best terms imaginable with the Dashwoods;
314:377,19['  ]| and setting aside the jealousies and ill-will continually
314:377,20['  ]| subsisting between Fanny and Lucy, in which their
314:377,21['  ]| husbands of course took a part, as well as the frequent
314:377,22['  ]| domestic disagreements between Robert and Lucy
314:377,23['  ]| themselves, nothing could exceed the harmony in which
314:377,24['  ]| they all lived together.
314:377,25['  ]| What Edward had done to forfeit the right of eldest
314:377,26['  ]| son, might have puzzled many people to find out; and
314:377,27['  ]| what Robert had done to succeed to it, might have
314:377,28['  ]| puzzled them still more.  It was an arrangement, however,
314:377,29['  ]| justified in its effects, if not in its cause; for
314:377,30['  ]| nothing ever appeared in Robert's style of living or of
314:377,31['  ]| talking, to give a suspicion of his regretting the extent
314:377,32['  ]| of his income, as either leaving his brother too little,
314:377,33['  ]| or bringing himself too much; ~~ and if Edward might
314:377,34['  ]| be judged from the ready discharge of his duties in every
314:377,35['  ]| particular, from an increasing attachment to his wife
314:377,36['  ]| and his home, and from the regular cheefulness of his
314:377,37['  ]| spirits, he might be supposed no less contented with his
314:377,38['  ]| lot, no less free from every wish of an exchange.
314:378,01['  ]| Elinor's marriage divided her as little from her
314:378,02['  ]| family as could well be contrived, without rendering
314:378,03['  ]| the cottage at Barton entirely useless, for her mother
314:378,04['  ]| and sisters spent much more than half their time with her.
314:378,05['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood was acting on motives of policy as well
314:378,06['  ]| as pleasure in the frequency of her visits at Delaford;
314:378,07['  ]| for her wish of bringing Marianne and Colonel*Brandon
314:378,08['  ]| together was hardly less earnest, though rather more
314:378,09['  ]| liberal than what John had expressed.  It was now her
314:378,10['  ]| darling object.  Precious as was the company of her
314:378,11['  ]| daughter to her, she desired nothing so much as to give
314:378,12['  ]| up its constant enjoyment to her valued friend; and to
314:378,13['  ]| see Marianne settled at the mansion-house was equally
314:378,14['  ]| the wish of Edward and Elinor.  They each felt his
314:378,15['  ]| sorrows, and their own obligations, and Marianne, by
314:378,16['  ]| general consent, was to be the reward of all.
314:378,17['  ]| With such a confederacy against her ~~ with a knowledge
314:378,18['  ]| so intimate of his goodness ~~ with a conviction of
314:378,19['  ]| his fond attachment to herself, which at last, though
314:378,20['  ]| long after it was observable to everybody else ~~ burst on
314:378,21['  ]| her ~~ what could she do?
314:378,22['  ]| Marianne*Dashwood was born to an extraordinary
314:378,23['  ]| fate.  She was born to discover the falsehood of her
314:378,24['  ]| own opinions, and to counteract, by her conduct,
314:378,25['  ]| her most favourite maxims.  She was born to overcome
314:378,26['  ]| an affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and
314:378,27['  ]| with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively
314:378,28['  ]| friendship, voluntarily to give her hand to another! ~~
314:378,29['  ]| and \that\ other, a man who had suffered no less than
314:378,30['  ]| herself under the event of a former attachment, whom,
314:378,31['  ]| two years before, she had considered too old to be
314:378,32['  ]| married, ~~ and who still sought the constitutional safeguard
314:378,33['  ]| of a flannel waistcoat!
314:378,34['  ]| But so it was.  Instead of falling a sacrifice to an
314:378,35['  ]| irresistible passion, as once she had fondly flattered
314:378,36['  ]| herself with expecting, ~~ instead of remaining even for*ever
314:378,37['  ]| with her mother, and finding her only pleasures in
314:378,38['  ]| retirement and study, as afterwards in her more calm
314:379,01['  ]| and sober judgment she had determined on, ~~ she found
314:379,02['  ]| herself at nineteen, submitting to new attachments,
314:379,03['  ]| entering on new duties, placed in a new home, a wife,
314:379,04['  ]| the mistress of a family, and the patroness of a village.
314:379,05['  ]| Colonel*Brandon was now as happy, as all those who
314:379,06['  ]| best loved him, believed he deserved to be; ~~ in Marianne
314:379,07['  ]| he was consoled for every past affliction; ~~ her regard
314:379,08['  ]| and her society restored his mind to animation, and his
314:379,09['  ]| spirits to cheerfulness; and that Marianne found her
314:379,10['  ]| own happiness in forming his, was equally the persuasion
314:379,11['  ]| and delight of each observing friend.  Marianne
314:379,12['  ]| could never love by halves; and her whole heart became,
314:379,13['  ]| in time, as much devoted to her husband, as it had once
314:379,14['  ]| been to Willoughby.
314:379,15['  ]| Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without
314:379,16['  ]| a pang; and his punishment was soon afterwards
314:379,17['  ]| complete in the voluntary forgiveness of Mrs%*Smith,
314:379,18['  ]| who, by stating his marriage with a woman of character,
314:379,19['  ]| as the source of her clemency, gave him reason for
314:379,20['  ]| believing that had be behaved with honour towards
314:379,21['  ]| Marianne, he might at once have been happy and rich.
314:379,22['  ]| That his repentance of misconduct, which thus brought
314:379,23['  ]| it own punishment, was sincere, need not be doubted;
314:379,24['  ]| ~~ nor that he long thought of Colonel*Brandon with
314:379,25['  ]| envy, and of Marianne with regret.  But that he was
314:379,26['  ]| for*ever inconsolable, that he fled from society, or
314:379,27['  ]| contracted an habitual gloom of temper, or died of
314:379,28['  ]| a broken heart, must not be depended on ~~ for he did
314:379,29['  ]| neither.  He lived to exert, and frequently to enjoy
314:379,30['  ]| himself.  His wife was not always out of humour, nor
314:379,31['  ]| his home always uncomfortable; and in his breed of
314:379,32['  ]| horses and dogs, and in sporting of every kind, he found
314:379,33['  ]| no inconsiderable degree of domestic felicity.
314:379,34['  ]| For Marianne, however ~~ in spite of his incivility in
314:379,35['  ]| surviving her loss ~~ he always retained that decided
314:379,36['  ]| regard which interested him in everything that befell her,
314:379,37['  ]| and made her his secret standard of perfection in woman;
314:379,38['  ]| ~~ and many a rising beauty would be slighted by him
314:380,01['  ]| in after-days as bearing no comparison with Mrs%*Brandon.
314:380,02['  ]|
314:380,03['  ]| Mrs%*Dashwood was prudent enough to remain at the
314:380,04['  ]| cottage, without attempting a removal to Delaford;
314:380,05['  ]| and fortunately for Sir*John and Mrs%*Jennings, when
314:380,06['  ]| Marianne was taken from them, Margaret had reached
314:380,07['  ]| an age highly suitable for dancing, and not very ineligible
314:380,08['  ]| for being supposed to have a lover.
314:380,09['  ]| Between Barton and Delaford, there was that constant
314:380,10['  ]| communication which strong family affection
314:380,11['  ]| would naturally dictate; ~~ and among the merits and
314:380,12['  ]| the happiness of Elinor and Marianne, let it not be
314:380,13['  ]| ranked as the least considerable, that though sisters,
314:380,14['  ]| and living almost within sight of each other, they could
314:380,15['  ]| live without disagreement between themselves, or producing
314:380,16['  ]| coolness between their husbands.