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JANE AUSTEN'S WORKS 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY 
 
 Volume I. 
 
JANE AUSTEN'S WORKS. 
 
 Sense and Sensibility . . . 
 
 2 vols. 
 
 Pride and Prejudice .... 
 
 2 vols. 
 
 Mansfield Park 
 
 2 vols. 
 
 
 2 vols. 
 
 NORTHANGER AbBEY .... 
 
 I vol. 
 
 
 I vol. 
 
 Lady Susan — The Watsons 
 
 
 With a Memoir .... 
 
 I vol. 
 
 
 I vol. 
 
THE NOVELS OF JANE JUSTEN 
 
 SENSE AND 
 S E N S I B I L I T Y 
 
 BY 
 
 JANE AUSTEN 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 BOSTON 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1903 
 
Copyright, 1892, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 pHE family of Dasliwood had been long 
 settled in Sussex. Their estate was 
 large, and their residence was at Nor- 
 land Park, in the centre of their property, where 
 for many generations they had lived in so respect- 
 able a manner as to engage the general good opinion 
 of their surrounding acquaintance. The late owner 
 of this estate was a single man, who lived to a very 
 advanced age, and who for many years of his life 
 had a constant companion and housekeeper in his 
 sister. But her death, which happened ten years 
 before his own, produced a great alteration in his 
 home ; for to supply her loss he invited and received 
 into his house the family of his nephew Mr. Henry 
 Dashwood, the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, 
 and the person to whom he intended to bequeath it. 
 
6 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 In the society of his nephew and niece^ and their 
 children, the old gentleman's days were comfortably 
 spent. His attachment to them all increased. The 
 constant attention of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dash- 
 wood to his wishes, which proceeded not merely 
 from interest, but from goodness of heart, gave him 
 every degree of solid comfort which his age could 
 receive; and the cheerfulness of the children added 
 a relish to his existence. 
 
 By a former marriage, Mr. Henry Dashwood had 
 one son; by his present lady, three daughters. The 
 son, a steady, respectable young man, was amply 
 provided for by the fortune of his mother, v\^hich 
 had been large, and half of which devolved on him 
 on his coming of age. By his own marriage, like- 
 wise, which happened soon afterwards, he added to 
 his wealth. To him, therefore, the succession to 
 the Norland estate was not so really important as 
 to his sisters; for their fortune, independent of 
 what might arise to them from their father's in- 
 heriting that property, could be but small. Their 
 mother had nothing, and their father only seven 
 thousand pounds in his own disposal ; for the re- 
 maining moiety of his first wife's fortune was also 
 secured to her child, and he had only a life-interest 
 in it. 
 
 The old gentleman died : his will was read ; and, 
 like almost every other will, gave as much disap- 
 pointment as pleasure. He was neither so unjust 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 7 
 
 nor so ungrateful as to leave his estate from his 
 nephew; but he left it to him on such terms as 
 destroyed half the value of the bequest. Mr. 
 Dashwood had wished for it more for the sake of 
 his wife and daughters than for himself or his son ; 
 but to his son'^ and his son's son, a child of four 
 years old, it was secured, in such a way as to leave 
 to himself no power of providing for those who 
 were most dear to him, and who most needed a 
 provision, by any charge on the estate, or by any 
 sale of its valuable woods. The whole was tied up 
 for the benefit of this child, who in occasional 
 visits with his father and mother at ^Torland had 
 so far gained on the affections of his uncle, by such 
 attractions as are by no means unusual in children 
 of two or three years old, — an imperfect articula- 
 tion, an earnest desire of having his own way, 
 many cunning tricks, and a great deal of noise, — 
 as to outweigh all the value of all the attention 
 which for years he had received from his niece 
 and her daughters. He meant not to be unkind, 
 however, and, as a mark of his affection for the 
 three girls, he left them a thousand pounds apiece. 
 
 Mr. Dashwood' s disappointment w^as at first 
 severe ; but his temper was cheerful and sanguine, 
 and he might reasonably hope to live many years, 
 and by living economically, lay by a considerable 
 sum from the produce of an estate already large, 
 and capable of almost immediate improvement. 
 
8 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 But the fortune, whicli had been so tardy in com- 
 ing, was his only one twelvemonth. He survived 
 his uncle no longer; and ten thousand pounds, in- 
 cluding the late legacies, was all that remained for 
 his widow and daughters. 
 
 His son was sent for as soon as his danger was 
 known; and to him Mr. Dashwood recommended, 
 with all the strength and urgency which illness 
 could command, the interest of his mother-in-law 
 and sisters. 
 
 Mr. John Dashwood had not the strong feelings 
 of the rest of the family; but he was affected by a 
 recommendation of such a nature at such a time, 
 and he promised to do everything in his power to 
 make them comfortable. His father was rendered 
 easy by such an assurance, and Mr. John Dashwood 
 had then leisure to consider how much there might 
 prudently be in his power to do for them. 
 
 He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to 
 be rather cold-hearted and rather selfish is to be 
 ill-disposed; but he was, in general, well respected, 
 for he conducted himself with propriety in the dis- 
 charge of his ordinary duties. Had he married a 
 more amiable woman, he might have been made 
 still more respectable than he was; he might even 
 have been made amiable himself, for he was very 
 young when he married, and very fond of his wife. 
 But Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature 
 of himself, — more narrow-minded and selfish. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 9 
 
 When he gave his promise to his father, he medi- 
 tated within himself to increase the fortunes of his 
 sisters by the present of a thousand pounds apiece. 
 He then really thought himself equal to it. The 
 prospect of four thousand a year, in addition to his 
 present income, besides the remaining half of his 
 own mother^s fortune, warmed his heart, and made 
 him feel capable of generosity. ^^Yes, he would 
 give them three thousand pounds ; it would be lib- 
 eral and handsome ! It would be enough to make 
 them completely easy. Three thousand pounds ! he 
 could spare so considerable a sum with little incon- 
 venience.^^ He thought of it all day long, and for 
 many days successively, and he did not repent. 
 
 1^0 sooner was his father's funeral over than Mrs. 
 John Dashwood, without sending any notice of her 
 intention to her mother-in-law, arrived with her 
 child and their attendants. Ko one could dispute 
 her right to come; the house was her husband's 
 from the moment of his father's decease; but the 
 indelicacy of her conduct was so much the greater, 
 and to a woman in Mrs. Dashwood's situation, with 
 only common feelings, must have been highly un- 
 pleasing. But in her mind there was a sense of 
 honor so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any 
 offence of the kind, by whomsoever given or re- 
 ceived, was to her a source of immovable disgust. 
 Mrs. John Dashwood had never been a favorite 
 with any of her husband's family; but she had had 
 
10 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 no opportunity, till the present, of showing them 
 with how little attention to the comfort of other 
 people she could act when occasion required it. 
 
 So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood feel this ungra- 
 cious behavior, and so earnestly did she despise 
 her daughter-in-law for it, that, on the arrival of 
 the latter, she would have quitted the house for- 
 ever, had not the entreaty of her eldest girl in- 
 duced her first to reflect on the propriety of going, 
 and her own tender love for all her three children 
 determined her afterwards to stay, and for their 
 sakes avoid a breach with their brother. 
 
 Elinor, this eldest daughter whose advice was so 
 effectual, possessed a strength of understanding 
 and coolness of judgment w^hich qualified her, 
 though only nineteen, to be the counsellor of her 
 mother, and enabled her frequently to counteract, 
 to the advantage of them all, that eagerness of 
 mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have 
 led to imprudence. She had an excellent heart; 
 her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings 
 were strong, but she knew how to govern them. 
 It was a knowledge which her mother had yet to 
 learn, and which one of her sisters had resolved 
 never to be taught. 
 
 Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite 
 equal to Elinor's. She was sensible and clever, but 
 eager in everything: her sorrows, her joys, could 
 have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 11 
 
 interesting; she was everything but prudent. The 
 resemblance between her and her mother was strik- 
 ingly great. 
 
 Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her 
 sister's sensibility; but by Mrs. Dashwood it was 
 valued and cherished. They encouraged each other 
 now in the violence of their affliction. The agony 
 of grief which overpowered them at first was volun- 
 tarily renewed, was sought for, was created again 
 and again. They gave themselves up wholly to 
 their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in 
 every reflection that could afford it, and resolved 
 against ever admitting consolation in future. 
 Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but still she 
 could struggle, she could exert herself. She could 
 consult with her brother; could receive her sister- 
 in-law on her arrival, and treat her with proper 
 attention; and could strive to rouse her mother 
 to similar exertion, and encourage her to similar 
 forbearance. 
 
 Margaret, the other sister, w^as a good-humored, 
 well-disposed girl ; but as she had already imbibed 
 a good deal of Marianne's romance without having 
 much of her sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair 
 to equal her sisters at a more advanced period of 
 life. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mis- 
 tress of Norland ; and her mother and sisters in law 
 were degraded to the condition of visitors. As such, 
 however, they were treated by her with quiet civil- 
 ity ; and by her husband with as much kindness as 
 he could feel towards anybody beyond himself, his 
 wife, and their child. He really pressed them, 
 with some earnestness, to consider Norland as their 
 home; and as no plan appeared so eligible to Mrs. 
 Dashwood as remaining there till she could accom- 
 modate herself with a house in the neighborhood, 
 his invitation was accepted. 
 
 A continuance in a place where everything re- 
 minded her of former delight was exactly what 
 suited her mind. In seasons of cheerfulness no 
 temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess 
 in a greater degree that sanguine expectation of 
 happiness which is happiness itself; but in sorrow 
 she must be equally carried away by her fancy, and 
 as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was 
 beyond alloy. 
 
 Mrs. John Dashwood did not at all approve of 
 what her husband intended to do for his sisters. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 13 
 
 To take three thousand pounds from the fortune of 
 their dear little boy would be impoverishing him 
 to the most dreadful degree. She begged him to 
 think again on the subject. How could he answer 
 it to himself to rob his child, and his only child 
 too, of so large a sum? And what possible claim 
 could the Miss Dashwoods, who were related to him 
 only by half blood, which she considered as no 
 relationship at all, have on his generosity to so 
 large an amount? It was very well known that no 
 affection was ever supposed to exist between the 
 children of any man by different marriages; and 
 why was he to ruin himself and their poor little 
 Harry by giving away all his money to his half- 
 sisters? 
 
 " It was my father's last request to me," replied 
 her husband, ^^that I should assist his widow and 
 daughters.'' 
 
 ^^He did not know what he was talking of, I 
 dare say ; ten to one but he was light-headed at the 
 time. Had he been in his right senses, he could 
 not have thought of such a thing as begging you 
 to give away half your fortune from your own 
 child." 
 
 He did not stipulate for any particular sum, 
 my dear Fanny; he only requested me, in general 
 terms, to assist them, and make their situation 
 more comfortable than it was in his power to do. 
 Perhaps it would have been as well if he had left 
 
14 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 it wholly to myself. He could hardly suppose I 
 should neglect them. But as he required the prom- 
 ise, I could not do less than give it; at least, I 
 thought so at the time. The promise therefore 
 was given, and must be performed. Something 
 must be done for them whenever they leave Norland 
 and settle in a new home.'^ 
 
 ^^Well, then, let something be done for them; 
 but that something need not be three thousand 
 pounds. Consider,^' she added, ^^that when the 
 money is once parted with, it never can return. 
 Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone for- 
 ever. If, indeed, it could ever be restored to our 
 poor little boy — 
 
 ^^Why, to be sure,'' said her husband, very 
 gravely, ^^that would make a great difference. 
 The time may come when Harry will regret that 
 so large a sum was parted with. If he should 
 have a numerous family, for instance, it would be 
 a very convenient addition.'' 
 
 ^^To be sure it would." 
 Perhaps, then, it would be better for all 
 parties if the sum were diminished one half. 
 Pive hundred pounds would be a prodigious in- 
 crease to their fortunes!" 
 
 ^^Oh, beyond anything, great! What brother 
 on earth would do half so much for his sisters, even 
 if really his sisters ! And as it is, — only half- 
 blood! But you have such a generous spirit! " 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 15 
 
 ^^I would not wish to do anything mean/' he 
 replied. *^One had rather, on such occasions, do 
 too much than too little. No one, at least, can 
 think 1 have not done enough for them; even 
 themselves, they can hardly expect more.'' 
 
 There is no knowing what they may expect," 
 said the lady; ^^but we are not to think of their 
 expectations : the question is, what you can afford 
 to do." 
 
 Certainly; and I think I may afford to give 
 them five hundred pounds apiece. As it is, with- 
 out any addition of mine, they will each have 
 above three thousand pounds on their mother's 
 death, — a very comfortable fortune for any young 
 woman." 
 
 ^^To be sure it is; and, indeed, it strikes me 
 that they can want no addition at all. They will 
 have ten thousand pounds divided amongst them. 
 If they marry, they will be sure of doing well ; and 
 if they do not, they may all live very comfortably 
 together on the interest of ten thousand pounds." 
 
 ' ' That is very true, and therefore I do not 
 know whether, upon the whole, it would not be 
 more advisable to do something for their mother 
 while she lives, rather than for them, — something 
 of the annuity kind, I mean. My sisters would 
 feel the good effects of it as well as herself. A 
 hundred a year would make them all perfectly 
 comfortable." 
 
16 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 His wife hesitated a little^ however, in giving 
 her consent to this plan. 
 
 ^^To be sure/' said she, ^^it is better than 
 parting with fifteen hundred pounds at once. But 
 then, if Mrs. Dashwood should live fifteen years, 
 we shall be coraj^letely taken in.'^ 
 
 ^ ' Fifteen years ! my dear Fanny ; her life can- 
 not be worth half that purchase.'^ 
 
 Certainly not; but if you observe, people 
 always live forever when there is any annuity to 
 be paid them; and she is very stout and healthy, 
 and hardly forty. An annuity is a very serious 
 business; it comes over and over every year, and 
 there is no getting rid of it. You are not aware 
 of what you are doing. I have known a great 
 deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother 
 was clogged with the payment of three to old 
 superannuated servants by my father's will, and 
 it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. 
 Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; 
 and then there was the trouble of getting it to 
 them ; and then one of them was said to have died, 
 and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. 
 M}^ mother was quite sick of it. Her income was 
 not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims 
 on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, 
 because, otherwise, the money would have been 
 entirely at my mother's disposal, without any 
 restriction whatever. It has given me such an 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 17 
 
 abhorrence of annuities, that I am sure I would 
 not pin myself down to the payment of one for all 
 the world/' 
 
 ^^It is certainly an unpleasant thing/' replied 
 Mr. Dashwood, ^^to have those kind of yearly 
 drains on one's income. One's fortune, as your 
 mother justly says, is not one's own. To be tied 
 down to the regular payment of such a sum on 
 every rent-day is by no means desirable; it takes 
 away one's independence." 
 
 ^^Undoubtedly; and, after all, you have no 
 thanks for it. They think themselves secure ; you 
 do no more than what is expected, and it raises no 
 gratitude at all. If I were you, whatever I did 
 should be done at my own discretion entirely. I 
 would not bind myself to allow them anything 
 yearly. It may be very inconvenient some years 
 to spare a hundred or even fifty pounds from our 
 own expenses." 
 
 ^^I believe you are right, my love; it will be 
 better that there should be no annuity in the case : 
 whatever I may give them occasionally will be of 
 far greater assistance than a yearly allowance, be- 
 cause they would only enlarge their style of living 
 if they felt sure of a larger income, and would not 
 be sixpence the richer for it at the end of the 
 year. It will certainly be much the best way. A 
 present of fifty pounds now and then will prevent 
 their ever being distressed for money, and will, I 
 
 VOL. I. — 2 
 
18 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 think, be amply discharging my promise to my 
 father.'' 
 
 ^^To be sure it will. Indeed, to say the truth, 
 I am convinced within myself that your father had 
 no idea of your giving them any money at all. 
 The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was only 
 such as might be reasonably expected of you; for 
 instance, such as looking out for a comfortable 
 small house for them, helping them to move their 
 things, and sending them presents of fish and 
 game, and so forth, whenever they are in season. 
 I'll lay my life that he meant nothing further; 
 indeed, it would be very strange and unreasonable 
 if he did. Do but consider, my dear Mr. Dash- 
 wood, how excessively comfortable your mother-in- 
 law and her daughters may live on the interest of 
 seven thousand >unds, besides the thousand 
 pounds belonging j each of the girls, which brings 
 them in fifty pou ds a year apiece, and of course 
 they will pay th( c mother for their board out of 
 it. Altogether, they will have five hundred a 
 year amongst them; and what on earth can four 
 women want for more than that ? They will live 
 so cheap! Their housekeeping will be nothing at 
 all. They will have no carriage, no horses, and 
 hardly any servants ; they will keep no company, 
 and can have no expenses of any kind! Only con- 
 ceive how comfqrtable they will be! Five hundred 
 a year ! I am sure I cannot imagine how they will 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 19 
 
 ^ spend half of it ; and as to your giving them more, 
 it is quite absurd to think of it. They will be 
 much more able to give you something.'' 
 
 ^^Upon my word, " said Mr. Dashwood, I be- 
 lieve you are perfectly right. My father certainly 
 could mean nothing more by his request to me 
 than what you say. I clearly understand it now, 
 and I will strictly fulfil my engagement by such 
 acts of assistance and kindness to them as you 
 have described. When my mother removes into 
 another house, my services shall be readily given to 
 accommodate her as far as I can. Some little pres- 
 ent of furniture, too, may be acceptable then." 
 
 Certainly," returned Mrs. John Dashwood. 
 ^^But, however, one thing must be considered. 
 When your father and mother moved to INorland, 
 though the furniture of Stanhill was sold, all the 
 china, plate, and linen was saved, and is now left 
 to your mother. Her house will therefore be 
 almost completely fitted up as soon as she takes 
 it." 
 
 ^^That is a material consideration undoubtedly. 
 A valuable legacy indeed! And yet some of the 
 plate would have been a very pleasant addition to 
 our own stock here." 
 
 ^^Yes; and the set of breakfast china is twice 
 as handsome as what belongs to this house; a 
 great deal too handsome, in my opinion, for any 
 place they can ever afford to live in. But, how- 
 
^0 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ever, so it is. Tour father thought only of them. 
 And I must say this, that you owe no particular 
 gratitude to him, nor attention to his wishes; for 
 we very well know that if he could he would have 
 left almost everything in the world to them.^^ 
 
 This argument was irresistible. It gave to his 
 intentions whatever of decision was wanting be- 
 fore ; and he finally resolved that it would be abso- 
 lutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to do 
 more for the widow and children of his father than 
 such kind of neighborly acts as his own wife 
 pointed out. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood remained at Norland several 
 months, not from any disinclination to move when 
 the sight of every well-known spot ceased to raise 
 the violent emotion which it produced for a while, 
 — for when her spirits began to revive, and her mind 
 became capable of some other exertion than that of 
 heightening its affliction by melancholy remem- 
 brances, she was impatient to be gone, and inde- 
 fatigable in her inquiries for a suitable dwelling 
 in the neighborhood of Norland, for to remove far 
 from that beloved spot was impossible; but she 
 could hear of no situation that at once answered 
 her notions of comfort and ease, and suited the 
 prudence of her eldest daughter, whose steadier 
 judgment rejected several houses, as too large 
 for their income, which her mother would have 
 approved. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood had been informed by her hus- 
 band of the solemn promise on the part of his sou 
 in their favor, which gave comfort to his last 
 earthly reflections. She doubted the sincerity of 
 this assurance no more than he had doubted it 
 himself, and she thought of it for her daughters' 
 sake with satisfaction, though as for herself she 
 
22 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 was persuaded that a much smaller provision than 
 seven thousand pounds would support her in afflu- 
 ence. For their brother's sake, too, for the sake 
 of his own heart, she rejoiced; and she reproached 
 herself for being unjust to his merit before, in 
 believing him incapable of generosity. His at- 
 tentive behavior to herself and his sisters con- 
 vinced her that their welfare was dear to him, and 
 for a long time she firmly relied on the liberality 
 of his intentions. 
 
 The contempt which she had very early in their 
 acquaintance felt for her daughter-in-law was very 
 much increased by the further knowledge of her 
 character which half a year's residence in her 
 family afforded; and perhaps, in spite of every 
 consideration of politeness or maternal affection 
 on the side of the former, the two ladies might 
 have found it impossible to have lived together 
 so long, had not a particular circumstance occurred 
 to give still greater eligibility, according to the 
 opinions of Mrs. Dashwood, to her daughters' con- 
 tinuance at Norland. 
 
 This circumstance was a growing attachment 
 between her eldest girl and the brother of Mrs. 
 John Dashwood, a gentlemanlike and pleasing 
 young man, who was introduced to their acquaint- 
 ance soon after his sister's establishment at Nor- 
 land, and who had since spent the greatest part of 
 his time there. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 23 
 
 Some mothers might have encouraged the in- 
 timacy from motives of interest, for Edward Ferrars 
 was the eldest son of a man who had died very 
 rich; and some might have repressed it from 
 motives of prudence, for, except a trifling sum, 
 the whole of his fortune depended on the will of 
 his mother. But Mrs. Dashwood was alike unin- 
 fluenced by either consideration; it was enough 
 for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he 
 loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the 
 partiality. It was contrary to every doctrine of 
 hers that difference of fortune should keep any 
 couple asunder who were attracted hy resemblance 
 of disposition; and that Elinor's merit should not 
 be acknowledged by every one who knew her was 
 to her comprehension impossible. 
 
 Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their 
 good opinion by any peculiar graces of person or 
 address. He was not handsome, and his manners 
 required intimacy to make them pleasing. He 
 w^as too diffident to do justice to himself; but 
 when his natural shyness was overcome, his be- 
 havior gave every indication of an open, affection- 
 ate heart. His understanding was good, and his 
 education had given it solid improvement. But 
 he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition 
 to answer the wishes of his mother and sister, who 
 longed to see him distinguished as — they hardly 
 knew what. They wanted him to make a fino 
 
24 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 figure in the world in some manner or other. His 
 mother wished to interest him in political con- 
 cerns, to get him into parliament, or to see him 
 connected with some of the great men of the day. 
 Mrs. John Dashwood wished it likewise; but in 
 the mean while, till one of these superior blessings 
 could be attained, it would have quieted her am- 
 bition to see him driving a barouche. But Edward 
 had no turn for great men or barouches. All his 
 wishes centred in domestic comfort and the quiet 
 of private life. Fortunately, he had a younger 
 brother who was more promising. 
 
 Edward had been staying several weeks in the 
 house before he engaged much of Mrs. Dashwood's 
 attention; for she was at that time in such afflic- 
 tion as rendered her careless of surrounding objects. 
 She saw only that he was quiet and unobtrusive, 
 and she liked him for it. He did not disturb the 
 wretchedness of her mind by ill-timed conversation. 
 She was first called to observe and approve him 
 further by a reflection which Elinor chanced one 
 day to make on the difference between him and his 
 sister. It was a contrast which recommended him 
 most forcibly to her mother. 
 
 ^^It is enough," said she; ^^to say that he is 
 unlike Eanny is enough. It implies everything 
 amiable. I love him already." 
 
 ^^I think you will like him," said Elinor, 
 ^^when you know more of him." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 25 
 
 ^^Like him! replied her mother, with a smile. 
 *^Ican feel no sentiment of approbation inferior 
 to love/' 
 
 You may esteem him.'' 
 
 ^^I have never yet known what it was to sepa- 
 rate esteem and love." 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted 
 with him. Her manners were attaching, and soon 
 banished his reserve. She speedily comprehended 
 all his merits; the persuasion of his regard for 
 Elinor perhaps assisted her penetration; but she 
 really felt assured of his worth, and even that 
 quietness of manner, which militated against all 
 her established ideas of what a young man's address 
 ought to be, was no longer uninteresting when 
 she knew his heart to be warm and his temper 
 affectionate. 
 
 !N"o sooner did she perceive any symptom of love 
 in his behavior to Elinor than she considered their 
 serious attachment as certain, and looked forward 
 to their marriage as rapidly approaching. 
 
 ^^In a few months, my dear Marianne," said 
 she, Elinor will, in all probability, be settled 
 for life. We shall miss her, but she will be 
 happy." 
 
 Oh, mamma, how shall we do without her? " 
 ^^My love, it will be scarcely a separation; we 
 shall live within a few miles of each other, and 
 shall meet every day of our lives; you will gain 
 
26 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 a brother, — a real, affectionate brother. I have 
 the highest opinion in the world of Edward's heart. 
 But you look grave, Marianne ; do you disapprove 
 your sister's choice? " 
 
 Perhaps," said Marianne, I may consider 
 it with some surprise. Edward is very amiable, 
 and I love him tenderly. But yet — he is not the 
 kind of young man ; there is a something wanting, 
 — his figure is not striking ; it has none of that 
 grace which I should expect in the man who could 
 seriously attach my sister. His eyes want all 
 that spirit, that fire, which at once announce 
 virtue and intelligence. And besides all this, I 
 am afraid, mamma, he has no real taste. Music 
 seems scarcely to attract him; and though he ad- 
 mires Elinor's drawings very much, it is not the 
 admiration of a person who can understand their 
 worth. It is evident, in spite of his frequent 
 attention to her while she draws, that in fact he 
 knows nothing of the matter. He admires as a 
 lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, those 
 characters must be united. I could not be happy 
 with a man whose taste did not in every point 
 coincide with my own. He must enter into all 
 my feelings; the same books, the same music, 
 must charm us both. Oh, mamma, how spiritless, 
 how tame was Edward's manner in reading to us 
 last night! I felt for my sister most severely. 
 Yet she bore it with so much composure, she 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 27 
 
 seemed scarcely to notice it. I could hardly keep 
 my seat. To hear those beautiful lines, which 
 have frequently almost driven me wild, pronounced 
 with such impenetrable calmness, such dreadful 
 indifference! " 
 
 ^^He w^ould certainly have done more justice to 
 simple and elegant prose. I thought so at the 
 time; but you would give him Cowper.'' 
 
 "^2ij, mamma, if he is not to be animated by 
 Cowper ! — but we must allow for difference of taste. 
 Elinor has not my feelings, and therefore she 
 may overlook it and be happy with him. But it 
 would have broken my heart, had I loved him, to 
 hear him read with so little sensibility. Mamma, 
 the more I know of the world the more am I con- 
 vinced that I shall never see a man whom I can 
 really love. I require so much! Pie must have 
 all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners 
 must ornament his goodness with every possible 
 charm." 
 
 ^^Kemember, my love, that you are not seven- 
 teen. It is yet too early in life to despair of such 
 happiness. Why should you be less fortunate 
 than your mothar? In one circumstance only, my 
 Marianne, may your destiny be different from 
 hers!'^ 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ^^What a pity it is, Elinor," said Marianne, 
 that Edward should have no taste for drawing! " 
 "1^0 taste for drawing! " replied Elinor; why 
 should you think so? He does not draw himself, 
 indeed, but he has great pleasure in seeing the 
 performances of other people ; and I assure you he 
 is by no means deficient in natural taste, though 
 he has not had opportunities of improving it. 
 Had he ever been in the way of learning, I think 
 he would have drawn very well. He distrusts his 
 own judgment in such matters so much that he is 
 always unwilling to give his opinion on any pic- 
 ture ; but he has an innate propriety and simplicity 
 of taste, which, in general, direct him perfectly 
 right." 
 
 Marianne was afraid of offending, and said no 
 more on the subject; but the kind of approbation 
 which Elinor described as excited in him by tlio 
 drawings of other people was very far from that 
 rapturous delight which, in her opinion, could 
 alone be called taste. Yet, though smiling within 
 herself at the mistake, she honored her sister for 
 that blind partiality to Edward which produced it. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 29 
 
 hope, Marianne," continued Elinor, ^^you 
 do not consider him as deficient in general taste. 
 Indeed, I think I may say that you cannot; for 
 your behavior to him is perfectly cordial, and if 
 that were your opinion, I am sure you could never 
 be civil to him.'' 
 
 Marianne hardly knew what to say. She would 
 not wound the feelings of her sister on any account, 
 and yet to say what she did not believe was im- 
 possible. At length she replied, — 
 
 ^^Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of 
 him is not in everything equal to your sense of 
 his merits. I have not had so many opportuni- 
 ties of estimating the minuter propensities of his 
 mind, his inclinations and tastes, as you have; 
 but I have the highest opinion in the world of 
 his goodness and sense. I think him everything 
 that is worthy and amiable." 
 
 ^^I am sure," replied Elinor, with a smile, 
 ^^that his dearest friends could not be dissatis- 
 fied with such commendation as that. I do not 
 perceive how you could express yourself more 
 warmly." 
 
 Marianne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily 
 pleased. 
 
 ^^Of his sense and his goodness," continued 
 Elinor, " no one can, I think, be in doubt, who 
 has seen him often enough to engage him in un- 
 reserved conversation. The excellence of his un- 
 
30 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 derstanding and his principles can be concealed 
 only by that shyness which too often keeps him 
 silent. You know enough of him to do justice to 
 his solid worth. But of his minuter propensities, 
 as you call them, you have, from peculiar circum- 
 stances, been kept more ignorant than myself. He 
 and I have been at times thrown a good deal to- 
 gether, while you have been wholly engrossed on 
 the most affectionate principle by my mother. I 
 have seen a great deal of him, have studied his 
 sentiments, and heard his opinion on subjects of 
 literature and taste; and, upon the whole, I ven- 
 ture to pronounce that his mind is well informed, 
 his enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his ima- 
 gination lively, his observations just and correct, 
 and his taste delicate and pure. His abilities in 
 every respect improve as much upon acquaintance 
 as his manners and person. At first sight, his 
 address is certainly not striking; and his person 
 can hardly be called handsome, till the expression 
 of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the 
 general sweetness of his countenance, are perceived. 
 At present I know him so well that I think him 
 really handsome, or, at least, almost so. What 
 say you, Marianne? 
 
 ^^I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor, 
 if I do not now. When you tell me to love him 
 as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection in 
 his face than I now do in his heart. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 31 
 
 Elinor started at this declaration, and was sorry 
 for the warmth she had been betrayed into in speak- 
 ing of him. She felt that Edward stood very high 
 in her opinion. She believed the regard to be 
 mutual; but she required greater certainty of it 
 to make Marianne's conviction of their attachment 
 agreeable to her. She knew that what Marianne 
 and her mother conjectured one moment, they be- 
 lieved the next, — that with them, to wish was to 
 hope, and to hope was to expect. She tried to 
 explain the real state of the case to her sister. 
 
 ^^I do not attempt to deny," said she, ^^that I 
 think very highly of him, — that I greatly esteem, 
 that I like him." 
 
 Marianne here burst forth with indignation, — 
 
 ^ ' Esteem him ! Like him ! Cold-hearted Elinor ! 
 Oh, worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being 
 otherwise ! Use those words again, and I will leave 
 the room this moment." 
 
 Elinor could not help laughing. Excuse me," 
 said she; " and be assured that I meant no offence 
 to you by speaking in so quiet a way of my own 
 feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have 
 declared; believe them, in short, to be such as his 
 merit and the suspicion — the hope — of his affection 
 for me may warrant, without imprudence or folly. 
 But further than this you must not believe. I am 
 by no means assured of his regard for me. There 
 are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful j 
 
32 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 and till his sentiments are fully known, yon can- 
 not wonder at my wishing to avoid any encourage- 
 ment of my own partialit}^, by believing or calling 
 it more than it is. In my heart I feel little — 
 scarcely any doubt, of his preference. But there 
 are other points to be considered besides his in- 
 clination. He is very far from being independent. 
 What his mother really is we cannot know; but, 
 from Fanny's occasional mention of her conduct 
 and opinions, we have never been disposed to think 
 her amiable ; and I am very much mistaken if 
 Edward is not himself aware that there would be 
 many difficulties in his way, if he were to wish to 
 marry a woman who had not either a great fortune 
 or high rank." 
 
 Marianne was astonished to find how much the 
 imagination of her mother and herself had out- 
 stripped the truth. 
 
 And you really are not engaged to him! " said 
 she. ^^Yet it certainly soon will happen. But 
 two advantages will proceed from this delay. / 
 shall not lose you so soon, and Edward will have 
 greater opportunity of improving that natural taste 
 for your favorite pursuit which must be so indis- 
 pensably necessary to your future felicity. Oh! if 
 he should be so far stimulated by your genius as 
 to learn to draw himself, how delightful it would 
 be!'' 
 
 Elinor had given her real opinion to her sister. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 33 
 
 She could not consider lier partiality for Edward 
 in so prosperous a state as Marianne liad believed 
 it. There was at times a want of spirits about 
 him which, if it did not denote indifference, spoke 
 a something almost as unpromising. A doubt of 
 her regard, supposing him to feel it, need not give 
 him more than inquietude. It would not be likely 
 to produce that dejection of mind which frequently 
 attended him. A more reasonable cause might be 
 found in the dependent situation which forbade the 
 indulgence of his affection. She knew that his 
 mother neither behaved to him so as to make his 
 home comfortable at jjresent, nor to give him any 
 assurance that he might form a home for himself, 
 without strictly attending to her views for his ag- 
 grandizement. With such a knowledge as this, it 
 was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the sub- 
 ject. She was far from depending on that result 
 of his preference of her, which her mother and 
 sister still considered as certain. Nay, the longer 
 they were together the more doubtful seemed the 
 nature of his regard; and sometimes, for a few 
 painful minutes, she believed it to be no more 
 than friendship. 
 
 But, whatever might really be its limits, it was 
 enough, when perceived by his sister, to make her 
 uneasy, and at the same time (which was still more 
 common) to make her uncivil. She took the first 
 opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law on the 
 
 VOL. I. — 3 
 
34 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, 
 
 occasion, talking to her so expressively of Ler 
 brother's great expectations, of Mrs. Ferrars's reso- 
 lution that both her sons should marry well, and 
 of the danger attending any young woman who 
 attempted to draw J dm in, that Mrs. Dashwood 
 could neither pretend to be unconscious, nor en- 
 deavor to be calm. She gave her an answer which 
 marked her contempt, and instantly left the room; 
 resolving that, whatever might be the inconven- 
 ience or expense of so sudden a removal, her be- 
 loved Elinor should not be exposed another week 
 to such insinuations. 
 
 In this state of her spirits a letter was delivered 
 to her from the post, which contained a proposal 
 particularly w^ell timed. It was the offer of a 
 small house, on very easy terms, belonging to a 
 relation of her own, a gentleman of consequence 
 and property in Devonshire. The letter was from 
 this gentleman himself, and written in the true 
 spirit of friendly accommodation. He understood 
 that she was in need of a dwelling; and though 
 the house he now offered her was merely a cottage, 
 he assured her that everything should be done to 
 it which she might think necessary, if the situa- 
 tion pleased her. He earnestly pressed her, after 
 giving the particulars of the house and garden, to 
 come with her daughters to Barton Park, the place 
 of his own residence, from whence she might judge 
 herself w^hether Barton Cottage — for the houses 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 35 
 
 were in the same parish — could by any alteration 
 be made comfortable for her. He seemed really 
 anxious to accommodate them; and the whole of 
 his letter was written in so friendly a style as 
 could not fail of giving pleasure to his cousin; 
 more especially at a moment when she was suffer- 
 ing under the cold and unfeeling behavior of her 
 nearer connections. She needed no time for de- 
 liberation or inquiry. Her resolution was formed 
 as she read. The situation of Barton, in a county 
 so far distant from Sussex as Devonshire, which 
 but a few hours before would have been a sufficient 
 objection to outweigh every possible advantage be- 
 longing to the place, was now its first recommen- 
 dation. To quit the neighborhood of Norland was 
 no longer an evil: it was an object of desire; it 
 was a blessing, in comparison of the misery of 
 continuing her daughter-in-law's guest: and to 
 remove forever from that beloved place would be 
 less painful than to inhabit or visit it while such 
 a woman was its mistress. She instantly WTote 
 Sir John Middleton her acknowledgment of his 
 kindness, and her acceptance of his proposal; and 
 then hastened to show both letters to her daugh- 
 ters, that she might be secure of their approbation 
 before her answer were sent. 
 
 Elinor had always thought it would be more 
 prudent for them to settle at some distance from 
 Norland than immediately amongst their present 
 
36 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 acquaintance. On that liead^ therefore, it was not 
 for her to oppose her mother's intention of remov- 
 ing into Devonshire. The house, too, as described 
 "by Sir John, was on so simple a scale, and the 
 rent so uncommonly moderate, as to leave her no 
 right of objection on either point; and therefore, 
 though it was not a plan which brought any 
 charm to her fancy, though it was a removal from 
 the vicinity of i^orland beyond her wishes, she 
 made no attempt to dissuade her mother from 
 sending a letter of acquiescence. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 No sooner was her answer despatched, than Mrs. 
 Dashwood indulged herself in the pleasure of an- 
 nouncing to her son-in-law and his wife that she 
 was provided with a house, and should incommode 
 them no longer than till everything were ready 
 for her inhabiting it. They heard her with sur- 
 prise. Mrs. John Dashwood said nothing; but 
 her husband civilly hoped that she would not be 
 settled far from Norland. She had great satis- 
 faction in replying that she was going into Dev- 
 onshire. Edward turned hastily towards her, 
 on hearing this, and in a voice of surprise and 
 concern, which required no explanation to her, 
 repeated: " Devonshire! Are you, indeed, going 
 there? So far from hence! and to what part of 
 it? She explained the situation. It was within 
 four miles northward of Exeter. 
 
 ^^It is but a cottage,'^ she continued; but I 
 hope to see many of my friends in it. A room or 
 two can easily be added; and if mj friends find no 
 difficulty in travelling so far to see me, I am sure 
 I will find none in accommodating them.'^ 
 
 She concluded with a very kind invitation to 
 Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood to visit her at 
 
38 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Barton; and to Edward she gave one with still 
 greater affection. Though her late conversation 
 with her daughter-in-law had made her resolve 
 on remaining at Norland no longer than was 
 unavoidable, it had not produced the smallest 
 effect on her in that point to which it principally 
 tended. To separate Edward and Elinor was as 
 far from being her object as ever; and she wished 
 to show Mrs. John Dash wood, by this pointed 
 invitation to her brother, how totally she disre- 
 garded her disapprobation of the match. 
 
 Mr. John Dashwood told his mother again and 
 again how exceedingly sorry he was that she had 
 taken a house at such a distance from Norland as 
 to prevent his being of any service to her in 
 removing her furniture. He really felt con- 
 scientiously vexed on the occasion; for the very 
 exertion to which he had limited the performance 
 of his promise to his father was by this arrange- 
 ment rendered impracticable. The furniture was 
 all sent round by water. It chiefly consisted of 
 household linen, plate, china, and books, with a 
 handsome pianoforte of Marianne's. Mrs. John 
 Dashwood saw the packages depart with a sigh: 
 she could not help feeling it hard that, as Mrs. 
 Dashwood's income would be so trifling in com- 
 parison with their own, she should have any hand- 
 some article of furniture. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood took the house for a twelve- 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 39 
 
 month; it was ready furnished, and she might 
 have immediate possession. No difficulty arose on 
 either side in the agreement; and she waited only 
 for the disposal of her effects at Norland, and to 
 determine her future household, before she set off 
 for the west; and this, as she was exceedingly 
 rapid in the performance of everything that in- 
 terested her, was soon done. The horses which 
 were left her by her husband had been sold soon 
 after his death, and an opportunity now offering of 
 disposing of her carriage, she agreed to sell that 
 likewise, at the earnest advice of her eldest 
 daughter. For the comfort of her children, had 
 she consulted only her own wishes^ she would 
 have kept it; but the discretion of Elinor pre- 
 vailed. Her wisdom, too, limited the number of 
 their servants to three, — two maids and a man, 
 with whom they were speedily provided from 
 amongst those who had formed their establish- 
 ment at Norland. 
 
 The man and one of the maids were sent off 
 immediately into Devonshire, to prepare the house 
 for their mistress's arrival; for as Lady Middle- 
 ton was entirely unknown to Mrs. Dashwood, she 
 preferred going directly to the cottage to being 
 a visitor at Barton Park; and she relied so un- 
 doubtingly on Sir John's description of the house 
 as to feel no curiosity to examine it herself till 
 she entered it as her own. Her eagerness to be 
 
40 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 gone from Norland was preserved from diminution 
 by the evident satisfaction of her daughter-in-law 
 in the prospect of her removal, — a satisfaction 
 which was but feebly attempted to be concealed 
 under a cold invitation to her to defer her de- 
 parture. Now w^as the time when her son-in- 
 law's promise to his father might with particular 
 propriety be fulfilled. Since he had neglected 
 to do it on first coming to the estate, their quit- 
 ting his house might be looked on as the most 
 suitable period for its accomplishment. But Mrs. 
 Dashwood began, shortly, to give over every hope 
 of the kind, and to be convinced, from the general 
 drift of his discourse, that his assistance extended 
 no further than their maintenance for six months 
 at Norland. He so frequently talked of the increas- 
 ing expenses of housekeeping, and of the perpetual 
 demands upon his purse, which a man of any 
 consequence in the world was beyond calculation 
 exposed to, that he seemed rather to stand in 
 need of more money himself than to have any 
 design of giving money away. 
 
 In a very few weeks from the day which brought 
 Sir John Middleton's first letter to Norland, every- 
 thing was so far settled in their future abode 
 as to enable Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters 
 to begin their journey. 
 
 Many were the tears shed by them in their last 
 adieus to a place so much beloved. " Dear, dear 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 41 
 
 NTorland! " said Marianne, as slie wandered alone 
 before the house, on the last evening of their being 
 there; when shall I cease to regret you, when 
 learn to feel a home elsewliere ! Oh, happy house, 
 could you know what I suffer in now viewing you 
 from this spot, from whence, perhaps, I may view 
 you no more ! And you, ye well-known trees ! — 
 but you will continue the same. No leaf will 
 decay because we are removed, nor any branch 
 become motionless although we can observe you no 
 longer! 'No] you will continue the same, uncon- 
 scious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, 
 and insensible of any change in those who walk 
 under your shade! But who will remain to enjoy 
 you?'' 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The first part of their journey was performed in 
 too melanclioly a disposition to be otherwise than 
 tedious and unpleasant. But as they drew towards 
 the end of it, their interest in the appearance of a 
 country which they were to inhabit overcame their 
 dejection, and a view of Barton Valley, as they 
 entered it, gave them cheerfulness. It was a 
 pleasant fertile spot, well wooded, and rich in 
 pasture. After winding along it for more than a 
 mile, they reached their own house. A small 
 green court was the whole of its demesne in front ; 
 and a neat wicket-gate admitted them into it. 
 
 As a house. Barton Cottage, though small, was 
 comfortable and compact; but as a cottage it was 
 defective, for the building was regular, the roof 
 was tiled, the window-shutters were not painted 
 green, nor were the walls covered with honey- 
 suckles. A narrow passage led directly through 
 the house into the garden behind. On each side 
 of the entrance was a sitting-room, about sixteen 
 feet square; and beyond them were the offices and 
 the stairs. Four bedroomxS and two garrets formed 
 the rest of the house. It had not been built many 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 43 
 
 years, and was in good repair. In comparison of 
 !N"orland, it was poor and small indeed; but the 
 tears w^hich recollection called forth as they 
 entered the house were soon dried away. They 
 were cheered by the joy of the servants on their 
 arrival, and each for the sake of the others resolved 
 to appear happy. It was very early in September; 
 the season was fine; and from first seeing the 
 place under the advantage of good weather, they 
 received an impression in its favor which was 
 of material service in recommending it to their 
 lasting approbation. 
 
 The situation of the house was good. High 
 hills rose immediately behind, and at no great 
 distance on each side; some of which were open 
 downs, the others cultivated and woody. The 
 village of Barton was chiefly on one of these hills, 
 and formed a pleasant view from the cottage win- 
 dows. The prospect in front was more extensive; 
 it commanded the whole of the valley, and reached 
 into the country beyond. The hills which sur- 
 rounded the cottage terminated the valley in that 
 direction; under another name, and in another 
 course, it branched out again between two of the 
 steepest of them. 
 
 With the size and furniture of the house Mrs. 
 Dashwood was upon the whole well satisfied; for 
 though her former style of life rendered many 
 additions to the latter indispensable, yet to add 
 
44 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 and improve was a delight to her; and she had at 
 this time ready money enough to supply all that 
 was wanted of greater elegance to the apartments. 
 
 As for the house itself, to be sure/^ said she, " it 
 is too small for our familjr^ but we will make our- 
 selves tolerably comfortable for the present, as it 
 is too late in the year for improvements. Perhaps 
 in the spring, if I have plenty of money, as I dare 
 say I shall, we may think about building. These 
 parlors are both too small for such parties of our 
 friends as I hope to see often collected here; and 
 I have some thoughts of throwing the passage into 
 one of them, with perhaps a part of the other, and 
 so leave the remainder of that other for an en- 
 trance; this, with a new drawing-room which may 
 be easily added, and a bedchamber and garret above, 
 will make it a very snug little cottage. I could 
 wish the stairs were handsome. But one must not 
 expect everything; though I suppose it would be 
 no difficult matter to widen them. I shall see 
 how much I am beforehand with the world in 
 the spring, and we will plan our improvements 
 accordingly.'' 
 
 In the mean time, till all these alterations could 
 be made from the savings of an income of five 
 hundred a year by a woman who never saved in 
 her life, they were wise enough to be contented 
 with the house as it was; and each of them was 
 busy in arranging their particular concerns, and 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 45 
 
 endeavoring, by placing around them their books 
 and other possessions, to form themselves a home. 
 Marianne's pianoforte was unpacked and properly 
 disposed of; and Elinor's drawings were affixed to 
 the walls of their sitting-room. 
 
 In such employments as these they were inter- 
 rupted soon after breakfast the next day hy the 
 entrance of their landlord, who called to welcome 
 them to Barton, and to offer them every accommo- 
 dation from his own house and garden in which 
 theirs might at present be deficient. Sir John 
 Middleton was a good-looking man, about forty. 
 He had formerly visited at Stanhill, but it was too 
 long ago for his young cousins to remember him. 
 His countenance was thoroughly good-humored, 
 and his manners were as friendly as the style of 
 his letter. Their arrival seemed to afford him 
 real satisfaction, and their comfort to be an object 
 of real solicitude to him. He said much of his 
 earnest desire of their living on the most sociable 
 terms with his family, and pressed them so cor- 
 dially to dine at Barton Park every day till they 
 were better settled at home, that, though his en- 
 treaties were carried to a point of perseverance 
 beyond civility, they could not give offence. His 
 Iiindness was not confined to words ; for within an 
 hour after he left them, a large basket, full of 
 garden stuff and fruit, arrived from the Park, 
 which was followed before the end of the day by a 
 
46 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 present of game. He insisted, moreover, on con- 
 veying all their letters to and from the post for 
 them, and wonld not be denied the satisfaction for 
 sending them his newspaper every day. 
 
 Lady Middleton had sent a very civil message 
 by him, denoting her intention of waiting on Mrs. 
 Dashwood as soon as she conld be assured that her 
 visit would be no inconvenience ; and as this mes- 
 sage was answered by an invitation equally polite, 
 her ladyship was introduced to them the next 
 day. 
 
 They were, of course, very anxious to see a per- 
 son on whom so much of their comfort at Barton 
 must depend; and the elegance of her appearance 
 was favorable to their wishes. Lady Middleton 
 was not more than six or seven and twenty; her 
 face was handsome, her figure tall and striking, 
 and her address graceful. Her manners had all 
 the elegance which her husband's wanted. But 
 they would have been improved by some share of 
 his frankness and warmth; and her visit was long 
 enough to detract something from their first admi- 
 ration, by showing that, though perfectly well 
 bred, she was reserved, cold, and had nothing to 
 say for herself beyond the most commonplace in- 
 quiry or remark. 
 
 Conversation, however, was not wanted, for Sir 
 John was very chatty, and Lady Middleton had 
 taken the wise precaution of bringing with her 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 47 
 
 their eldest child, a fine little boy about six years 
 old; by which means there was one subject always 
 to be recurred to by the ladies in case of extremity, 
 for they had to inquire his name and age, admire 
 his beauty, and ask him questions which his 
 mother answered for him, while he hung about her 
 and held down his head, to the great surprise of 
 her ladyship, who wondered at his being so shy 
 before company, as he could make noise enough at 
 home. On every formal visit a child ought to be 
 of the party, by way of provision for discourse. 
 In the present case it took up ten minutes to de- 
 termine whether the boy were most like his fatlier 
 or mother, and in what particular he resembled 
 either ; for of course everybody differed, and every- 
 body was astonished at the opinion of the others. 
 
 An opportunity was soon to be given to the 
 Dashwoods of debating on the rest of the children, 
 as Sir John would not leave the house without 
 securing their promise of dining at the Park the 
 next day. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Barton Park was about half a mile from the cot- 
 tage. The ladies had passed near it in their way 
 along the vallej^, but it was screened from their 
 view at home by the projection of a hill. The 
 house was large and handsome; and the Middle- 
 tons lived in a style of equal hospitality and ele- 
 gance. The former was for Sir J ohn's gratification, 
 the latter for that of his lady. They were scarcely 
 ever without some friends staying with them in 
 the house, and they kept more company of every 
 kind than any other family in the neighborhood. 
 It was necessary to the happiness of both; for 
 however dissimilar in temper and outward be- 
 havior, they strongly resembled each other in that 
 total want of talent and taste which confined their 
 employments, unconnected with such as society 
 produced, within a very narrow compass. Sir 
 John was a sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother. 
 He hunted and shot, and she humored her chil- 
 dren; and these were their only resources. Lady 
 Middleton had the advantage of being able to 
 spoil her children all the year round, while Sir 
 John's independent employments were in existence 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 49 
 
 only half the time. Continual engagements at 
 home and abroad, however, supplied all the defi- 
 ciencies of nature and education; supported the 
 good spirits of Sir John, and gave exercise to the 
 good breeding of his wife. 
 
 Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the ele- 
 gance of her table and of all her domestic arrange- 
 ments; and from this kind of vanity was her 
 greatest enjoyment in any of their parties. But 
 Sir John's satisfaction in society was much more 
 real; he delighted in collecting about him more 
 young people than his house would hold, and the 
 noisier they were the better was he pleased. He 
 was a blessing to all the juvenile part of the 
 neighborhood; for in summer he was forever form- 
 ing parties to eat cold ham and chicken out of 
 doors, and in winter his private balls were numer- 
 ous enough for any young lady who was not suffer- 
 ing under the unsatiable appetite of fifteen. 
 
 The arrival of a new family in the country was 
 always a matter of joy to him; and in every point 
 of view he was charmed with the inhabitants he 
 had now procured for his cottage at Barton. The 
 Miss Dashwoods were young, pretty, and unaffected. 
 It was enough to secure his good opinion; for to be 
 unaffected was all that a pretty girl could want to 
 make her mind as captivating as her person. The 
 friendliness of his disposition made him happy in 
 accommodating those whose situation might be 
 
50 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 considered, in comparison with the past, as un- 
 fortunate. In showing kindness to his cousins, 
 therefore, he had the real satisfaction of a good 
 heart; and in settling a family of females only in 
 his cottage, he had all the satisfaction of a sports- 
 men, — for a sportsman, though he esteems only those 
 of his sex who are sportsmen likewise, is not often 
 desirous of encouraging their taste hy admitting 
 them to a residence within bis own manor. 
 
 Mrs. Dash wood and her daughters were met at 
 the door of the house hy Sir John, who welcomed 
 them to Barton Park with unaffected sincerity; 
 and as he attended them to the drawing-room, re- 
 peated to the young ladies the concern which the 
 same suhject had drawn from him the day hefore, 
 at heing unable to get any smart young men to 
 meet them. They would see, he said, only one 
 gentleman there besides himself ; a particular friend 
 who was staying at the Park, but who was neither 
 very young nor very gay. He hoped they w^ould 
 all excuse the smallness of the party, and could as- 
 sure them it would never happen so again. He had 
 been to several families that morning, in hopes of 
 procuring some addition to their number, but it 
 was moonlight, and everybody was full of engage- 
 ments. Luckily, Lady Middleton's mother had 
 arrived at Barton within the last hour; and as she 
 was a very cheerful, agreeable woman, he hoped 
 the young ladies would not find it so very dull as 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 51 
 
 they miglit imagine. The young ladies, as well 
 as their mother, were perfectly satisfied with hav- 
 ing two entire strangers of the party, and wished 
 for no more. 
 
 Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton's mother, was 
 a good-humored, merry, fat, elderly woman, who 
 talked a great deal, seemed very happy, and rather 
 vulgar. She was full of jokes and laughter, and 
 before dinner was over had said many witty things 
 on the subject of lovers and husbands; hoped they 
 had not left their hearts behind them in Sussex, 
 and pretended to see them blush whether they did 
 or not. Marianne was vexed at it for her sister's 
 sake, and turned her eyes towards Elinor to see 
 how she bore these attacks, with an earnestness 
 which gave Elinor far more pain than could 
 arise from such commonplace raillery as Mrs. 
 Jennings's. 
 
 Colonel Brandon, the friend of Sir John, seemed 
 no more adapted by resemblance of manner to be 
 his friend, than Lady Middleton was to be his wife, 
 or Mrs. Jennings to be Lady Middleton's mother. 
 He was silent and grave. His appearance, how- 
 ever, was not unpleasing, in spite of his being, in 
 the opinion of Marianne and Margaret, an absolute 
 old bachelor, for he was on the wrong side of five- 
 and-thirty; but though his face was not handsome, 
 his countenance was sensible, and his address was 
 particularly gentlemanlike. 
 
52 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 There was nothing in any of the party which 
 could recommend them as companions to the Dash- 
 woods; but the cold insipidity of Lady Middleton 
 was so particularly repulsive that in comparison 
 of it the gravity of Colonel Brandon, and even the 
 boisterous mirth of Sir John and his mother-in-law, 
 were interesting. Ladj^ Middleton seemed to be 
 roused to enjoyment only by the entrance of her 
 four noisy children after dinner, who pulled her 
 about, tore her clothes, and put an end to 
 every kind of discourse except what related to 
 themselves. 
 
 In the evening, as Marianne was discovered to 
 be musical, she was invited to play. The instru- 
 ment was unlocked, everybody prepared to be 
 charmed, and Marianne, who sang very well, at 
 their request went through the chief of the songs 
 which Lady Middleton had brought into the family 
 on her marriage, and which, perhaps, had lain ever 
 since in the same position on the pianoforte; for 
 her ladyship had celebrated that event by giving 
 up music, although, by her mother's account, she 
 had played extremely well, and by her own was 
 very fond of it. 
 
 Marianne's performance was highly applauded. 
 Sir John was loud in his admiration at the end of 
 every song, and as loud in his conversation with 
 the others while every song lasted. Lady Middle- 
 ton frequently called him to order, wondered how 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY 
 
 53 
 
 any one's attention could be diverted from music 
 for a moment, and asked Marianne to sing a par- 
 ticular song which Marianne had just finished. 
 Colonel Brandon alone, of all the party, heard her 
 without being in raptures. He paid her only the 
 compliment of attention, and she felt a respect for 
 him on the occasion, w^hich the others had reason- 
 ably forfeited by their shameless want of taste. 
 His pleasure in music, though it amounted not 
 to that ecstatic delight which alone could sympa- 
 thize with her own, was estimable when con- 
 trasted against the horrible insensibility of the 
 others; and she was reasonable enough to allow 
 that a man of five-and-thirty might well have out- 
 lived all acuteness of feeling, and every exquisite 
 power of enjoyment. She was perfectly disposed 
 to make every allowance for the colonel's advanced 
 state of life which humanity required. 
 
CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 Mrs. Jennings was a widow with an ample joint- 
 ure. She had only two daughters, both of whom 
 she had lived to see respectably married, and she 
 had now, therefore, nothing to do but to marry all 
 the rest of the world. In the promotion of this 
 object she was zealously active, as far as her abil- 
 ity reached; and missed no opportunity of project- 
 ing weddings among all the young people of her 
 acquaintance. She was remarkably quick in the 
 discovery of attachments, and had enjoyed the ad- 
 vantage of raising the blushes and the vanity of 
 many a young lady by insinuations of her power 
 over such a young man; and this kind of discern- 
 ment enabled her, soon after her arrival at Barton, 
 decisively to pronounce that Colonel Brandon was 
 very much in love with Marianne Dashwood. She 
 rather suspected it to be so, on the very first even- 
 ing of their being together, from his listening so 
 attentively while she sang to them; and when the 
 visit was returned by the Middletons dining at the 
 cottage, the fact was ascertained by his listening 
 to her again. It must be so. Slie was perfectly 
 convinced of it. It would be an excellent match, 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 55 
 
 for he was rich, and she was handsome. Mrs. 
 Jennings had been anxious to see Colonel Bran- 
 don well married, ever since her connection with 
 Sir John first brought him to her knowledge; and 
 she was always anxious to get a good husband for 
 every pretty girl. 
 
 The immediate advantage to herself was by no 
 means inconsiderable, for it supplied her with 
 endless jokes against them both. At the Park 
 she laughed at the colonel, and in the cottage at 
 Marianne. To the former her raillery was prob- 
 ably, as far as it regarded only himself, perfectly 
 indifferent : but to the latter it was at first incom- 
 prehensible; and when its object was understood, 
 she hardly knew whether most to laugh at its ab- 
 surdity, or censure its impertinence, — for she con- 
 sidered it as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel's 
 advanced years, and on his forlorn condition as an 
 old bachelor. 
 
 Mrs. Dash wood, who could not think a man five 
 years younger than herself so exceedingly ancient 
 as he appeared to the youthful fancy of her daugh- 
 ter, ventured to clear Mrs. Jennings from the 
 probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his 
 age. 
 
 ' ' But at least, mamma, you cannot deny the 
 absurdity of the accusation, though you may not 
 think it intentionally ill-natured. Colonel Bran- 
 don is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but 
 
56 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 he is old enough to be viy father; and if he were 
 ever animated enough to be in love, must have 
 long outlived every sensation of the kind. It is 
 too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe from 
 such wit, if age and infirmity will not protect 
 him? " 
 
 " Infirmity! " said Elinor, do you call Colonel 
 Brandon infirm? I can easily suppose that his 
 age may appear much greater to you than to my 
 mother; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to 
 his having the use of his limbs? 
 
 ^^Did not you hear him comxplain of the rheu- 
 matism, and is not that the commonest infirmity 
 of declining life? " 
 
 "Mj dearest child," said her mother, laughing, 
 ^^at this rate you must be in continual terror of 
 my decay; and it must seem to you a miracle that 
 my life has been extended to the advanced age of 
 forty." 
 
 ^- Mamma, you are not doing me justice. I 
 know very well that Colonel Brandon is not old 
 enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of 
 losing him in the course of nature. He may live 
 twenty years longer. But thirty-five has nothing 
 to do with matrimony." 
 
 Perhaps, " said Elinor, " thirty-five and seven- 
 teen had better not have anything to do with mat- 
 rimony together. But if there should by any 
 chance happen to be a woman who is single at 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 57 
 
 seven-and-twenty, I should not think Colonel 
 Brandon's being thirty-five any objection to his 
 marrying herJ^ 
 
 "A. woman of seven-and-twenty/' said Mari- 
 anne, after pausing a moment, " can never hope 
 to feel or inspire affection again; and if her home 
 be uncomfortable, or her fortune small, I can sup- 
 pose that she might bring herself to submit to the 
 offices of a nurse, for the sake of the provision and 
 security of a wife. In his marrying such a woman, 
 therefore, there would be nothing unsuitable. It 
 would be a compact of convenience, and the world 
 would be satisfied. In my eyes it would be no 
 marriage at all; but that would be nothing. To 
 me it would seem only a commercial exchange, in 
 which each wished to be benefited at the expense 
 of the other.'' 
 
 ^^It would be impossible, I know," replied 
 Elinor, "to convince you that a woman of seven- 
 and-twenty could feel for a man of thirty-five 
 anything near enough to love, to make him a desir- 
 able companion to her. But I must object to your 
 dooming Colonel Brandon and his wife to the con- 
 stant confinement of a sick-chamber, merely be- 
 cause he chanced to complain yesterday (a very 
 cold, damp day) of a slight rheumatic feel in one 
 of his shoulders." 
 
 ^^But he talked of flannel waistcoats," said 
 Marianne ; ' ' and with me a flannel waistcoat is 
 
58 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 invariably connected with aches, cramps, rheuma- 
 tisms, and every species of ailment that can afflict 
 the old and the feeble.'^ 
 
 Had he been only in a violent fever, you would 
 not have despised him half so much. Confess, 
 Marianne, is not there something interesting to 
 you in the flushed cheek, hollow eye, and quick 
 pulse of a fever ? 
 
 Soon after this, upon Elinor's leaving the room, 
 Mamma,'" said Marianne, I have alarm on the 
 subject of illness which I cannot conceal from you. 
 I am sure Edward Eerrars is not well. We have 
 now been here almost a fortnight, and yet he does 
 not come. Nothing but real indisposition could 
 occasion this extraordinary delay. What else can 
 detain him at Norland? '' 
 
 Had you any idea of his coming so soon? 
 said Mrs. Dashwood. Jhad none. On the con- 
 trary, if I have felt any anxiety at all on the sub- 
 ject, it has been in recollecting that he sometimes 
 showed a want of pleasure and readiness in accept- 
 ing my invitation, when I talked of his coming to 
 Barton. Does Elinor expect him already? '' 
 
 ^^I have never mentioned it to her, but of course 
 she must." 
 
 ^^I rather think you are mistaken, for when I 
 was talking to her yesterday of getting a new 
 grate for the spare bedchamber, she observed 
 that there was no immediate hurry for it, as it 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 59 
 
 was not likely that the room would be wanted for 
 some time." 
 
 ^^How strange this is! what can be the mean- 
 ing of it! But the whole of their behavior to each 
 other has been unaccountable! How cold, how 
 composed were their last adieus! How languid 
 their conversation the last evening of their being 
 together! In Edward's farewell there was no dis- 
 tinction between Elinor and me : it was the good 
 wishes of an affectionate brother to both. Twice 
 did I leave them purposely together in the course 
 of the last morning, and each time did he most 
 unaccountably follow me out of the room. And 
 Elinor, in quitting Norland and Edward, cried 
 not as I did. Even now her self-command is in- 
 variable. When is she dejected or melancholy? 
 When does she try to avoid society, or appear 
 restless and dissatisfied in it? 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 The Dasliwoods were now settled at Barton with 
 tolerable comfort to themselves. The house and 
 the garden, with all the objects surrounding them, 
 were now become familiar, and the ordinary pur- 
 suits which had given to Norland half its charms 
 were engaged in again with far greater enjoyment 
 than Norland had been able to afford since the 
 loss of their father. Sir John Middleton, who 
 called on them every day for the first fortnight, 
 and who was not in the habit of seeing much occu- 
 pation at home, could not conceal his amazement 
 on finding them always employed. 
 
 Their visitors, except those from Barton Park, 
 were not many; for in spite of Sir John's urgent 
 entreaties that they would mix more in the neigh- 
 borhood, and repeated assurances of his carriage 
 being always at their service, the independence of 
 Mrs. Dashwood's spirit overcame the wish of so- 
 ciety for her children; and she was resolute in 
 declining to visit any family beyond the distance 
 of a walk. There were but few who could be so 
 classed; and it was not all of them that were at- 
 tainable. About a mile and a half from the cot- 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 61 
 
 tage, along the narrow winding valley of Allenliam, 
 which issued from that of Barton, as formerly 
 described, the girls had, in one of their earliest 
 walks, discovered an ancient respectable-looking 
 mansion, which, by reminding them a little of 
 Norland, interested their imagination and made 
 them wish to be better acquainted w^itli it. But 
 they learned, on inquiry, that its possessor, an 
 elderly lady of very good character, was unfortu- 
 nately too infirm to mix with the world, and never 
 stirred from home. 
 
 The whole country about them abounded in 
 beautiful walks. The high downs, which invited 
 them from almost every window of the cottage to 
 seek the exquisite enjoyment of air on their sum- 
 mits, were a happy alternative when the dirt of 
 the valleys beneath shut up their superior beauties ; 
 and towards one of these hills did Marianne and 
 Margaret one memorable morning direct their 
 steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of a 
 showery sky, and unable longer to bear the con- 
 finement which the settled rain of the two pre- 
 ceding days had occasioned. The weather was 
 not tempting enough to draw the two others from 
 their pencil and their book, in spite of Marianne's 
 declaration that the day would be lastingly fair, 
 and that every threatening cloud would be drawn 
 off from their hills; and the two girls set off 
 together. 
 
62 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBD JTT. 
 
 They gayly ascended the downs, rejoicmg in 
 their own penetration at every glimpse of blue 
 sky; and when they caught in their faces the ani- 
 mating gales of a high southwesterly wind, they 
 pitied the fears which had prevented their mother 
 and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations. 
 
 *^Is there a felicity in the world/' said Mari- 
 anne, superior to this? Margaret, we will walk 
 here at least two hours." 
 
 Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way 
 against the wind, resisting it with laughing de- 
 light for about twenty minutes longer, when sud- 
 denly the clouds united over their heads, and a 
 driving rain set full in their face. Chagrined and 
 surprised, they were obliged, though unwillingly, 
 to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their 
 own house. One consolation, however, remained 
 for them, to which the exigence of the moment 
 gave more than usual propriety, — it was that of 
 running with all possible speed down the steep 
 side of the hill which led immediately to their 
 garden gate. 
 
 They set off. Marianne had at first the advan- 
 tage, but a false step brought her suddenly to the 
 ground; and Margaret, unable to stop herself to 
 assist her, was involuntarily hurried along, and 
 reached the bottom in safety. 
 
 A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers 
 playing round him, was passing up the hill, and 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 63 
 
 within a few yards of Marianne, when her accident 
 happened. He put down his gun and ran to her 
 assistance. She had raised herself from the 
 ground, but her foot had been twisted in the fall, 
 and she was scarcely able to stand. The gentle- 
 man offered his services, and perceiving that her 
 modesty declined what her situation rendered ne- 
 cessary, took her up in his arms, without further 
 delay and carried her down the hill. Then pass- 
 ing through the garden, the gate of which had 
 been left open by Margaret, he bore her directly 
 into the house, whither Margaret was just arrived, 
 and quitted not his hold till he had seated her in 
 a chair in the parlor. 
 
 Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at 
 their entrance ; and while the eyes of both were 
 fixed on him with an evident wonder and a secret 
 admiration which equally sprung from his appear- 
 ance, he apologized for his intrusion by relating 
 its cause, in a manner so frank and so graceful 
 that his person, which was uncommonly handsome, 
 received additional charms from his voice and ex- 
 pression. Had he been even old, ugly, and vulgar, 
 the gratitude and kindness of Mrs. Dashwood 
 would have been secured by any act of attention 
 to her child; but the influence of youth, beauty, 
 and elegance gave an interest to the action which 
 came home to her feelings. 
 
 She thanked him again and again, and, with a 
 
64 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 sweetness of address which always attended her, 
 invited him to be seated. But this he declined, 
 as he was dirty and wet. Mrs. Dash wood then 
 begged to know to whom she was obliged. His 
 name, he replied, was Willoughby, and his present 
 home was at Allenham, from whence he hoped she 
 would allow him the honor of calling to-morrow 
 to inquire after Miss Dashwood. The honor was 
 readily granted, and he then departed, to make 
 himself still more interesting, in the midst of a 
 heavy rain. 
 
 His manly beauty and more than common grace- 
 fulness were instantly the theme of general admi- 
 ration; and the laugh which his gallantry raised 
 against Marianne received particular spirit from 
 his exterior attractions. Marianne herself had 
 seen less of his person than the rest ; for the con- 
 fusion which crimsoned over her face, on his lift- 
 ing her up, had robbed her of the power of regarding 
 him after their entering the house. But she had 
 seen enough of him to join in all the admiration 
 of the others, and with an energy which always 
 adorned her praise. His person and air were 
 equal to what her fancy had ever drawn for the 
 hero of a favorite story; and in his carrying her 
 into the house with so little previous formality 
 there was a rapidity of thought which particularly 
 recommended the action to her. Every circum- 
 stance belonging to him was interesting. His 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 65 
 
 name was good, his residence was in their favorite 
 village, and she soon found out that of all manly 
 dresses a shooting- jacket was the most becoming. 
 Her imagination was busy, her reflections were 
 pleasant, and the pain of a sprained ankle was 
 disregarded. 
 
 Sir John called on them as soon as the next 
 interval of fair weather that morning allowed him 
 to get out of doors; and Marianne's accident being 
 related to him, he was eagerly asked whether he 
 knew any gentleman of the name of Willoughby 
 at Allenham. 
 
 Willoughby ! cried Sir John; ^'what, is he 
 in the country? That is good news, however; I 
 will ride over to-morrow, and ask him to dinner 
 on Thursday." 
 
 You know him, then,'' said Mrs. Dashwood. 
 
 <^Know him! to be sure I do. Why, he is 
 down here every year." 
 
 And what sort of a young man is he? " 
 As good a kind of fellow as ever lived, I assure 
 you. A very decent shot, and there is not a 
 bolder rider in England." 
 
 ^'And is that all you can say for him?" cried 
 Marianne, indignantly. But what are his man- 
 ners on more intimate acquaintance? What his 
 pursuits, his talents, and genius? " 
 
 Sir John was rather puzzled. 
 
 ^^Upon my soul," said he, ^'I do not know 
 
 VOL. I. — 5 
 
66 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 much about him as to all that. But he is a pleas* 
 aut, good-humored fellow, and has got the nicest 
 little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw. Was 
 she out with him to-day? 
 
 But Marianne could no more satisfy him as to 
 the color of Mr. Willoughby's pointer, than he 
 could describe to her the shades of his mind. 
 
 ^^But who is he?'' said Elinor. Where does 
 he come from? Has he a house at Allenham? " 
 
 On this point Sir John could give more certain 
 intelligence; and he told them that Mr. Wil- 
 loughby had no property of his own in the country ; 
 that he resided there only while he was visiting 
 the old lady at Allenham Court, to whom he was 
 related, and whose possessions he was to inherit; 
 adding: Yes, yes, he is very well worth catch- 
 ing, I can tell you. Miss Dashwood ; he has a 
 pretty little estate of his own, in Somersetshire, 
 besides; and if I were you I would not give him 
 up to my younger sister, in spite of all this tum- 
 bling down hills. Miss Marianne must not ex- 
 pect to have all the men to herself. Brandon will 
 be jealous, if she does not take care.^' 
 
 ^^I do not believe," said Mrs. Dashwood, with 
 a good-humored smile, ^Hhat Mr. Willoughby will 
 be incommoded by the attempts of either of my 
 daughters towards what you call catching him. 
 It is not an emploj^ment to which they have been 
 brought up. Men are very safe with us, let them 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 67 
 
 be ever so rich. I am glad to find, however, from 
 what you say, that he is a respectable young 
 man, and one whose acquaintance will not be 
 ineligible/' 
 
 ^^He is as good a sort of fellow, I believe, as 
 ever lived," repeated Sir John. ^^I remember 
 last Christmas, at a little hop at the Park, he 
 danced from eight o'clock till four without once 
 sitting down." 
 
 Did he, indeed? " cried Marianne, with spark- 
 ling eyes; ^^and with elegance, with spirit? " 
 
 Yes; and he was up again at eight to ride to 
 covert." 
 
 ^^That is what I like; that is what a young 
 man ought to be. Whatever be his pursuits, his 
 eagerness in them should know no moderation, and 
 Jeave him no sense of fatigue." 
 
 ^< Ay, ay, I see how it will be," said Sir John, 
 " I see how it will be. You will be setting 
 your cap at him now, and never think of poor 
 Brandon." 
 
 <^That is an expression. Sir John," said Mari- 
 anne, warmly, which I particularly dislike. I 
 abhor every commonplace phrase by which wit is 
 intended; and ^setting one's cap at a man,' and 
 ^making a conquest,' are the most odious of all. 
 Their tendency is gross and illiberal; and if their 
 construction could ever be deemed clever, time has 
 long ago destroyed all its ingenuity.'^ 
 
68 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Sir John did not much understand this reproof; 
 but he laughed as heartily as if he did, and then 
 replied, — 
 
 ^^Ay, you will make conquests enough, I dare 
 say, one way or other. Poor Brandon! he is quite 
 smitten already; and he is very well worth setting 
 your cap at, I can tell you, in spite of all this 
 tumbling about and spraining of ankles.'^ 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Marianne's preserver, as Margaret, with more 
 elegance than precision, styled Willoughby, called 
 at the cottage early the next morning, to make 
 his personal inquiries. He was received by Mrs. 
 Dashwood with more than politeness, with a kind- 
 ness which Sir John's account of him and her own 
 gratitude prompted; and everything that passed 
 during the visit tended to assure him of the sense, 
 elegance, mutual affection, and domestic comfort of 
 the family to whom accident had now introduced 
 him. Of their personal charms he had not re- 
 quired a second interview to he convinced. 
 
 Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion, regu- 
 lar features, and a remarkably pretty figure. Mari- 
 anne was still handsomer. Her form, though not 
 so correct as her sister's, in having the advantage 
 of height was more striking; and her face was so 
 lovely that when, in the common cant of praise, 
 she was called a beautiful girl, truth was less vio* 
 lently outraged than usually happens. Her skin 
 was very brown, but, from its transparency, her 
 complexion was uncommonly brilliant; her features 
 were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; 
 
70 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was 
 a life, a spirit, an eagerness, which could hardly 
 be seen without delight. From Willoughby their 
 expression was at first held back, by the embar- 
 rassment which the remembrance of his assistance 
 created. But when this passed away, when her 
 spirits became collected, when she saw that to the 
 perfect good-breeding of the gentleman he united 
 frankness and vivacity, and above all when she 
 heard him declare that of music and dancing he 
 was passionately fond, she gave him such a look 
 of approbation as secured the largest share of his 
 discourse to herself for the rest of his stay. 
 
 It was only necessary to mention any favorite 
 amusement to engage her to talk. She could not 
 be silent when such points were introduced, and 
 she had neither shyness nor reserve in their dis- 
 cussion. They speedily discovered that their en- 
 joyment of dancing and music was mutual, and 
 that it arose from a general conformity of judg- 
 ment in all that related to either. Encouraged by 
 this to a further examination of his opinions, she 
 proceeded to question him on the subject of books: 
 her favorite authors were brought forward and dwelt 
 upon with so rapturous a delight that any young 
 man of five-and-twenty must have been insensible 
 indeed, not to become an immediate convert ^o the 
 excellence of such works, however disregarded be- 
 fore. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 71 
 
 books, the same passages, were idolized by each; 
 or if any difference appeared, any objection arose, 
 it lasted no longer than till the force of her argu- 
 ments and the brightness of her eyes could be dis- 
 played. He acquiesced in all her decisions, caught 
 all her enthusiasm; and long before his visit con- 
 cluded, they conversed with the familiarity of a 
 long-established acquaintance. 
 
 Well, Marianne,'' said Elinor, as soon as he 
 had left them, " for one morning I think you have 
 done pretty w^ell. You have already ascertained 
 Mr. Willoughby's opinion in almost every matter 
 of importance. You know what he thinks of 
 Cowper and Scott; you are certain of his estimat- 
 ing their beauties as he ought, and you have re- 
 ceived every assurance of his admiring Pope no 
 more than is proper. But how is your acquaint- 
 ance to be long supported, under such extraordi- 
 nary despatch of every subject for discourse? You 
 will soon have exhausted each favorite topic. An- 
 other meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments 
 on picturesque beauty and second marriages, and ' 
 then you can have nothing further to ask.'' 
 
 Elinor," cried Marianne, is this fair, is this 
 just? Are my ideas so scanty? But I see what you 
 mean. I have been too much at my ease, too happy, 
 too frank. I have erred against every common- 
 place notion of decorum; I have been open and 
 sincere where 1 ought to have been reserved, spirit- 
 
72 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, 
 
 less, dull, and deceitful. Had I talked only of 
 the weather and the roads, and had I spoken only 
 once in ten minutes, this reproach would have been 
 spared.'' 
 
 My love," said her mother, you must not be 
 offended with Elinor; she was only in jest. I 
 should scold her myself, if she were capable of 
 wishing to check the delight of your conversa- 
 tion with our new friend." Marianne was soft- 
 ened in a moment. 
 
 Willoughby, on his side, gave every proof of his 
 pleasure in their acquaintance which an evident 
 wish of improving it could offer. He came to 
 them every day. To inquire after Marianne was 
 at first his excuse; but the encouragement of his 
 reception, to which every day gave greater kind- 
 ness, made such an excuse unnecessary before it 
 had ceased to be possible, by Marianne's perfect 
 recovery. She was confined for some days to the 
 house; but never had any confinement been less 
 irksome. Willoughby was a young man of good 
 abilities, quick imagination, lively spirits, and 
 open, affectionate manners. He was exactly formed 
 to engage Marianne's heart; for with all this, 
 he joined not only a captivating person, but a 
 natural ardor of mind which was now roused and 
 increased by the example of her own, and which 
 recommended him to her affection beyond every- 
 thing else. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 73 
 
 His society became gradually her most exquisite 
 enjoyment. They read, they talked, they sang to- 
 gether; his musical talents were considerable; and 
 he read with all the sensibility and spirit which 
 Edward had unfortunately wanted. 
 
 In Mrs. Dashwood^s estimation he was as fault- 
 less as in Marianne^s; and Elinor saw nothing to 
 censure in him but a propensity, in which he 
 strongly resembled and peculiarly delighted her 
 sister, of saying too much what he thought on 
 every occasion, without attention to persons or 
 circumstances. In hastily forming and giving 
 his opinion of other people, in sacrificing general 
 politeness to the enjoyment of undivided atten- 
 tion where his heart was engaged, and in slight 
 ing too easily the forms of worldly propriety, he 
 displayed a want of caution which Elinor could 
 not approve, in spite of all that he and Marianne 
 could say in its support. 
 
 Marianne began now to perceive that the desper- 
 ation which had seized her at sixteen and a half, of 
 ever seeing a man who could satisfy her ideas of 
 perfection, had been rash and unjustifiable. Wil- 
 loughby was all that her fancy had delineated in 
 that unhappy hour, and in every brighter period, 
 as capable of attaching her; and his behavior de- 
 clared his wishes to be in that respect as earnest 
 as his abilities were strong. 
 
 Her mother, too, in whose mind not one specu- 
 
74 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 lative thought of their marriage had been raised, 
 by his prospect of riches, was led before the end 
 of a week to hope and expect it ; and secretly to 
 congratulate herself on having gained two such 
 sons-in-law as Edward and Willoughby. 
 
 Colonel Brandon's partiality for Marianne, 
 which had so earl}'- been discovered by his friends, 
 now first became perceptible to Elinor, when it 
 ceased to be noticed b}^ them. Their attention 
 and wit were drawn off to his more fortunate 
 rival; and the raillery which the other had 
 incurred before any partiality arose was removed 
 when his feelings began really to call for the 
 ridicule so justly annexed to sensibility. Elinor 
 was obliged, though unwillingly, to believe that 
 the sentiments which Mrs. Jennings had assigned 
 him for her own satisfaction were now actually 
 excited by her sister; and that however a general 
 resemblance of disposition between the parties 
 might forward the affection of Mr. Willoughb}^, 
 an equally striking opposition of character was 
 no hindrance to the regard of Colonel Brandon. 
 She saw it with concern ; for what could a silent 
 man of five-and-thirty hope, when opposed by a 
 very lively one of five-and-twenty? and as she 
 could not even wish him successful, she heartily 
 wished him indifferent. She liked him, — in 
 spite of his gravity and reserve, she beheld in him 
 an object of interest. His manners, though serious, 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 75 
 
 were mild; and his reserve appeared rather the 
 result of some oppression of spirits than of any 
 natural gloominess of temper. Sir John had 
 dropped hints of past injuries and disappoint- 
 ments, which justified her belief of his being an 
 unfortunate man, and she regarded him with 
 respect and compassion. 
 
 Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more 
 because he was slighted by Willoughby and 
 Marianne, who, prejudiced against him for be- 
 ing neither lively nor young, seemed resolved to 
 undervalue his merits. 
 
 Brandon is just the kind of man," said 
 Willoughby one day, when they were talking of 
 him together, ^^whoni everybody speaks well of, 
 and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted 
 to see, and nobody remembers to talk to.'' 
 
 ^^That is exactly what I think of him," cried 
 Marianne. 
 
 ^^Do not boast of it, however," said Elinor, 
 ^^for it is injustice in both of you. He is highly 
 esteemed by all the family at the Park, and I 
 never see him myself without taking pains to 
 converse with him." 
 
 ^^That he is patronized by you,^^ replied Wil- 
 loughby, " is certainly in his favor; but as for the 
 esteem of the others, it is a reproach in itself. 
 Who would submit to the indignity of being ap- 
 proved by such women as Lady Middleton and 
 
76 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Mrs. Jennings, that could command the indiffer- 
 ence of anybody else ? " 
 
 But perhaps the abuse of such people as yourself 
 and Marianne will make amends for the regard of 
 Lady Middleton and her mother. If their praise 
 is censure, your censure may be praise; for they 
 are not more undiscerning than you are prejudiced 
 and unjust." 
 
 In defence of your protege you can even be 
 saucy." 
 
 ^*My protege^ as you call him, is a sensible 
 man ; and sense will always have attractions for 
 me, — yes, Marianne, even in a man between 
 thirty and forty. He has seen a great deal of 
 the world ; has been abroad, has read, and has a 
 thinking mind. I have found him capable of giv- 
 ing me much information on various subjects; and 
 he has always answered my inquiries with the 
 readiness of good breeding and good nature." 
 
 ^^That is to say," cried Marianne, contempt- 
 uouslj^, ^ Hie has told you that in the East Indies 
 the climate is hot and the mosquitoes are 
 troublesome." 
 
 " He would have told me so, I doubt not, had I 
 made any such inquiries ; but they happened to be 
 points on which I had been previously informed." 
 
 Perhaps," said Willoughby, ^^his observa- 
 tions may have extended to the existence of nabobs, 
 gold molirs, and palanquins." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 77 
 
 may venture to say that his observations 
 have stretched much farther than your candor. 
 But why should you dislike him? " 
 
 I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the 
 contrary, as a very respectable man, who has 
 everybody's good word and nobody's notice; who 
 has more money than he can spend, more time 
 than he knows how to employ, and two new coats 
 every year. ' ' 
 
 ^^Add to which/' cried Marianne, ^^that he 
 has neither genius, taste, nor spirit; that his 
 understanding has no brilliancy, his feelings no 
 ardor, and his voice no expression." 
 
 ^^You decide on his imperfections so much in 
 the mass," replied Elinor, ^^and so much on the 
 strength of your own imagination, that the com- 
 mendation / am able to give of him is com- 
 paratively cold and insipid. I can only pronounce 
 him to be a sensible man, well bred, well in- 
 formed, of gentle address, and, I believe, possess- 
 ing an amiable heart." 
 
 ^^Miss Dashwood," cried Willoughby, ^'you 
 are now using me unkindly. You are endeavoring 
 to disarm me by reason, and to convince me 
 against my will. But it will not do. You shall 
 find me as stubborn as you can be artful. I have 
 three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel 
 Brandon : he has threatened me with rain when I 
 wanted it to be fine; he has found fault with the 
 
78 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 hanging of my curricle, and I cannot persuade him 
 to buy my brown mare. If it will be any satis- 
 faction to you, however, to be told that I believe 
 his character to be in other respects irreproachable, 
 I am ready to confess it. And in return for an ac- 
 knowledgment which must give me some pain, 
 you cannot deny me the privilege of disliking him 
 as much as ever.'' 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Little had Mrs. Dasliwood or her daughters 
 imagined, when they first came into Devonshire, 
 that so many engagements would arise to occupy 
 their time as shortly presented themselves, or that 
 they should have such frequent invitations and 
 such constant visitors as to leave them little lei- 
 sure for serious employment. Yet such was the 
 case. When Marianne was recovered, the schemes 
 of amusement at home and abroad, which Sir John 
 had been previously forming, were put in execu- 
 tion. The private balls at the Park then began; 
 and parties on the water were made and ac- 
 complished as often as a showery October would 
 allow. In every meeting of the kind Willoughby 
 was included; and the ease and familiarity which 
 naturally attended these parties were exactly 
 calculated to give increasing intimacy to his ac- 
 quaintance with the Dashwoods, to afford him 
 opportunity of witnessing the excellences of 
 Marianne, of marking his animated admiration 
 of her, and of receiving, in her behavior to him- 
 self, the most pointed assurance of her affection. 
 
80 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Elinor could not be surprised at their attacli- 
 ment. She only wished that it were less openly 
 shown; and once or twice did venture to suggest 
 the propriety of some self-command to Marianne. 
 But Marianne abhorred all concealment where no 
 real disgrace could attend unreserve ; and to aim at 
 the restraint of sentiments which were not in 
 themselves illaudable, appeared to her not merely 
 an unnecessary effort, but a disgraceful subjection 
 of reason to commonplace and mistaken notions. 
 Willoughby thought the same j and their be* 
 havior at all times w^as an illustration of their 
 opinions. 
 
 When he was present, she had no eyes for any 
 one else. Everything he did was right; every- 
 thing he said was clever. If their evenings at the 
 Park were concluded with cards, he cheated him- 
 self and all the rest of the party to get her a good 
 hand. If dancing formed the amusement of the 
 night, they were partners for half the time; and 
 when obliged to separate for a couple of dances, 
 were careful to stand together, and scarcely spoke 
 a word to anybody else. Such conduct made 
 them, of course, most exceedingly laughed at; 
 but ridicule could not shame, and seemed hardly 
 to provoke them. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood entered into all their feelings 
 with a warmth which left her no inclination for 
 checking this excessive display of them. To her 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 81 
 
 it was but the natural consequence of a strong 
 affection in a young and ardent mind. 
 
 This was the season of happiness to Marianne. 
 Her heart was devoted to Willoughhy; and the 
 fond attachment to Norland, which she brought 
 with her from Sussex, was more likely to be soft- 
 ened than she had thought it possible before, by 
 the charms which his society bestowed on her 
 present home. 
 
 Elinor's happiness was not so great. Her heart 
 was not so much at ease, nor her satisfaction in 
 their amusements so pure. They afforded her no 
 companion that could make amends for wdiat she 
 had left behind, nor that could teach her to think 
 of Norland with less regret than ever. Neither 
 Lady Middleton nor Mrs. Jennings could supply 
 to her the conversation she missed; although the 
 latter was an everlasting talker, and from the first 
 had regarded her with a kindness which insured 
 her a large share of her discourse. She had al- 
 ready repeated her own history to Elinor three or 
 four times; and had Elinor's memory been equal 
 to her means of improvement, she might have 
 known, very early in her acquaintance, all the 
 particulars of Mr. Jennings's last illness, and 
 what he said to his wife a few minutes before he 
 died. Lady Middleton was more agreeable than 
 her mother only in being more silent. Elinor 
 needed little observation to perceive that her re- 
 
 VOL. I. — 6 
 
82 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 serve was a mere calmness of manner, with which 
 sense had nothing to do. Towards her husband 
 and mother she was the same as to them; and 
 intimacy was, therefore, neither to be looked for 
 nor desired. She had nothing to say one day that 
 she had not said the day before. Her insij^idity 
 was invariable, for even her spirits were always 
 the same; and though she did not oppose the 
 parties arranged by her husband, provided every- 
 thing were conducted in style, and her two eldest 
 children attended her, she never appeared to re- 
 ceive more enjoyment from them than she might 
 have experienced in sitting at home; and so little 
 did her presence add to the pleasure of the others, 
 by any share in their conversation, that they were 
 sometimes only reminded of her being amongst 
 them by her solicitude about her troublesome 
 boys. 
 
 In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new ac- 
 quaintance, did Elinor find a person who could in 
 any degree claim the respect of abilities, excite 
 the interest of friendship, or give pleasure as a 
 companion. Willoughby was out of the question. 
 Her admiration and regard, even her sisterly re- 
 gard, was all his own; but he was a lover: his 
 attentions were wholly Marianne's, and a far less 
 agreeable man might have been more generally 
 pleasing. Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for 
 himself, had no such encouragement to think only 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 83 
 
 of Marianne, and in conversing with Elinor lie 
 found the greatest consolation for the total indif- 
 ference of her sister. 
 
 Elinor^s compassion for him increased, as she 
 had reason to suspect that the misery of disap- 
 pointed love had alreadj^ been known to him. 
 This suspicion was given by some words which 
 accidentally dropped from him one evening at the 
 Park, when they were sitting down together by 
 mutual consent, while the others were dancing. 
 His eyes were fixed on Marianne, and after a 
 silence of some minutes, he said, with a faint 
 smile, ^^Your sister, I understand, does not ap- 
 prove of second attachm^ents." 
 
 ^^No, " replied Elinor; ^^her opinions are all 
 romantic." 
 
 ^^Or rather, as I believe, she considers them 
 impossible to exist. 
 
 ^^I believe she does. But how she contrives it 
 without reflecting on the character of her own 
 father, who had himself two wives, I know not. 
 A few years, however, will settle her opinions on 
 the reasonable basis of common-sense and observa- 
 tion; and then they may be more easy to define 
 and to justify than they now are, by anybody but 
 herself." 
 
 ^^This will probably be the case, " he replied; 
 ^'and yet there is something so amiable in the 
 prejudices of a young mind that one is sorry to 
 
84 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 see tlicm give way to the reception of more general 
 opinions." 
 
 I cannot agree with you there/' said Elinor. 
 ^* There are inconveniences attending such feelings 
 as Marianne's which all the charms of enthusiasm 
 and ignorance of the world cannot atone for. Her 
 systems have all the unfortunate tendency of set- 
 ting propriety at naught; and a better acquaint- 
 ance with the world is what I look forward to as 
 her greatest possible advantage." 
 
 After a short pause he resumed the conversation 
 by saying,— 
 
 ^^Does your sister make no distinction in her 
 objections against a second attachment, or is it 
 equally criminal in everybody? Are those who 
 have been disappointed in their first choice, 
 whether from the inconstancy of its object or the 
 perverseness of circumstances, to be equally indif- 
 ferent during the rest of their lives? " 
 
 ^ ' Upon my word, I am not acquainted with the 
 minutise of her principles. I only know that I 
 never yet heard her admit any instance of a second 
 attachment being pardonable." 
 
 ^^This," said he, cannot hold; but a change, 
 a total change of sentiments — No, no, do not de- 
 sire it; for when the romantic refinements of a 
 young mind are obliged to give way, how fre- 
 quently are they succeeded by such opinions as are 
 but too common and too dangerous! I speak from 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 85 
 
 experience. I once knew a lady who in temper 
 and mind greatly resembled your sister, who 
 thought and judged like her, but who from an 
 enforced change — from a series of unfortunate 
 circumstances — ^' Here he stopped suddenly; 
 appeared to think that he had said too much, and 
 by his countenance gave rise to conjectures which 
 might not otherwise have entered Elinor's head. 
 The lady would probably have passed without 
 suspicion had he not convinced Miss Dashwood 
 that v/hat concerned her ought not to escape his 
 lips. As it was, it required but a slight effort of 
 fancy to connect his emotion with the tender recol- 
 lection of past regard. Elinor attempted no more ; 
 but Marianne, in her place, would not have done 
 so little. The whole story would have been 
 speedily formed under her active imagination, and 
 everything established in the most melancholy 
 order of disastrous love. 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 As Elinor and Marianne were walking together 
 the next morning, the latter communicated a piece 
 of news to her sister, which, in spite of all that 
 she knew before of Marianne's imprudence and 
 want of thought, surprised her by its extravagant 
 testimony of both. Marianne told her, with the 
 greatest delight, that Willoughby had given her a 
 horse, one that he had bred himself on his estate 
 in Somersetshire, and which was exactly calculated 
 to carry a woman. Without considering that it 
 was not in her mother's plan to keep any horse, — 
 that if she were to alter her resolution in favor of 
 this gift, she must buy another for the servant, 
 and keep a servant to ride it, and after all, build 
 a stable to receive them — she had accej)ted the 
 present without hesitation, and told her sister of 
 it in raptures. 
 
 ^^He intends to send his groom into Somerset- 
 shire immediately for it, ' ' she added ; ' ' and when 
 it arrives we will ride every day. You shall share 
 its use with me. Imagine to yourself, my dear 
 Elinor, the delight of a gallop on some of these 
 downs." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 87 
 
 Most unwilling was she to awaken from sucli a 
 dream of felicity to comprehend all the unhappy 
 truths which attended tlie affair, and for some time 
 she refused to submit to them. As to an additional 
 servant, the expense would be a trifle; mamma, 
 she was sure, would never object to it; and any 
 horse would do for him; he might always get one 
 at the Park; as to a stable, the merest shed would 
 be sufficient. Elinor then ventured to doubt the 
 propriety of her receiving such a present from a 
 man so little, or at least so lately, known to her. 
 This w^as too much. 
 
 You are mistaken, Elinor," said she, warmly, 
 
 in supposing I know very little of Willoughby. 
 I have not known him long, indeed; but I am 
 much better acquainted with him than I am with 
 any other creature in the world, except yourself 
 and mamma. It is not time or opportunity that is 
 to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. 
 Seven years would be insufficient to make some 
 people acquainted with each other, and seven days 
 are more than enough for others. I should hold 
 myself guilty of greater impropriety in accepting 
 a horse from my brother than from Willoughby. 
 Of John I know very little, though we have lived 
 together for years; but of Willoughby my judg- 
 ment has long been formed." 
 
 Elinor thought it wisest to touch that point no 
 more. She knew her sister's temper. Opposition 
 
88 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 on so tender a subject would only attach her the 
 more to her own opinion. But by an appeal to 
 her affection for her mother, by representing the 
 inconveniences which that indulgent mother must 
 draw on herself, if (as would probably be the case) 
 she consented to this increase of establishment, 
 Marianne was shortly subdued; and she promised 
 not to tempt her mother to such imprudent kind- 
 ness by mentioning the offer, and to tell Wil- 
 loughby, when she saw him next, that it must 
 be declined. 
 
 She was faithful to her word; and when Wil- 
 loughby called at the cottage the same day, Elinor 
 heard her express her disappointment to him in a 
 low voice on being obliged to foiego the acceptance 
 of his present. The reasons for this alteration 
 were at the same time related, and they were such 
 as to make further entreaty on his side impossible. 
 His concern, however, was very apparent; and 
 after expressing it with earnestness, he added, in 
 the same low voice*. ^^But, Marianne, the horse is 
 still yours, though you cannot use it now. I shall 
 keep it only till you can claim it. When you 
 leave Barton to form your own establishment in a 
 more lasting home. Queen Mab shall receive you." 
 
 This w^as all overheard by Miss Dashwood; and 
 in the whole of the sentence, in his manner of pro- 
 nouncing it, and in his addressing her sister by 
 her Christian name alone, she instantly saw an 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 89 
 
 intimacy so decided, a meaning so direct, as marked 
 a perfect agreement between them. From that 
 moment she doubted not of their being engaged to 
 each other; and the belief of it created no other 
 surprise than that she, or any of their friends, 
 should be left, by tempers so frank, to discover it 
 by accident. 
 
 Margaret related something to her the next day, 
 which placed this matter in a still clearer light. 
 Willoughby had spent the preceding evening with 
 them; and Margaret, by being left some time in 
 the parlor w^th only him and Marianne, had had 
 op23ortunity for observations, which, with a most 
 important face, she communicated to her eldest 
 sister, when they were next by themselves. 
 
 ^^Oh, Elinor! she cried, ^^I have such a se- 
 cret to tell you about Marianne. I am sure she 
 will be married to Mr. Willoughby very soon.'^ 
 
 ^^You have said so," replied Elinor, almost 
 every day since they first met on Highchurch 
 Down; and they had not known each other a week, 
 I believe, before you were certain that Marianne 
 wore his picture round her neck; but it turned out 
 to be only the miniature of our great-uncle.'' 
 
 But, indeed, this is quite another thing. I 
 am sure they will be married very soon, for he 
 has got a lock of her hair." 
 
 '^Take care, Margaret. It may be only the 
 hair of some great-uncle of Ais." 
 
90 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ^^But, indeed, Elinor, it is Marianne's. I am 
 almost sure it is, for I saw him cut it off. Last 
 night, after tea, when you and mamma went out 
 of the room, they were whispering and talking to- 
 gether as fast as could be, and he seemed to be 
 begging something of her, and presently he took 
 up her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair, 
 for it was all tumbled down her back; and he 
 kissed it, and folded it up in a piece of white 
 paper, and put it into his pocket-book.'' 
 
 Erom such particulars, stated on such authority, 
 Elinor could not withhold her credit; nor was she 
 disposed to it, for the circumstance was in perfect 
 unison with what she had heard and seen herself. 
 
 Margaret's sagacity was not always displayed in 
 a way so satisfactory to her sister. When Mrs. 
 Jennings attacked her one evening at the Park, to 
 give the name of the young man who was Elinor's 
 particular favorite, which had been long a matter 
 of great curiosity to her, Margaret answered by 
 looking at her sister, and saying, ^^I must not 
 tell, may I, Elinor? " 
 
 This of course made everybody laugh, and Eli- 
 nor tried to laugh too. But the effort was pain- 
 ful. She was convinced that Margaret had fixed 
 on a person vrhose name she could not bear with 
 composure to become a standing joke with Mrs. 
 Jennings. 
 
 Marianne felt for her most sincerely; but she 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 91 
 
 did more harm than good to the cause, by turning 
 very red, and saj^ing in an angry manner to 
 Margaret, — 
 
 Remember that whatever your conjectures may 
 be, you have no right to repeat them." 
 
 ^^I never had any conjectures about it," re- 
 plied Margaret; "it was you who told me of it 
 yourself." 
 
 This increased the mirth of the company, and 
 Margaret was eagerly pressed to say something 
 more. 
 
 ^^Oh, pray, Miss Margaret, let us know all 
 about it," said Mrs. Jennings. ^^What is the 
 gentleman's name? " 
 
 ^^I must not tell, ma'am. But I know very 
 well what it is; and I know where he is too." 
 
 ^^Yes, yes, we can guess where he is; at his 
 own house at Norland, to be sure. He is the 
 curate of the parish, I dare say." 
 
 ^^No, that he is not. He is of no profession at 
 all." 
 
 Margaret," said Marianne, with great warmth, 
 ^^you know that all this is an invention of your 
 own, and that there is no such person in existence." 
 
 Well, then, he is lately dead, Marianne, for I 
 am sure there was such a man once, and his name 
 begins with an F." 
 
 Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady Middle- 
 ton for observing, at this moment, that it rained 
 
92 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 very hard," though she believed the interruption 
 to proceed less from any attention to her than 
 from her ladyship's great dislike of all such inele- 
 gant subjects of raillery as delighted her husband 
 and mother. The idea, however, started by her, 
 was immediately pursued by Colonel Brandon, who 
 was on every occasion mindful of the feelings of 
 others; and much was said on the subject of rain 
 by both of them. Willoughby opened the piano- 
 forte, and asked Marianne to sit down to it; and 
 thus, amidst the various endeavors of different 
 people to quit the topic, it fell to the ground. But 
 not so easily did Elinor recover from the alarm 
 into which it had thrown her. 
 
 A party was formed this evening for going on 
 the following day to see a very fine place about 
 twelve miles from Barton, belonging to a brother- 
 in-law of Colonel Brandon, without whose interest 
 it could not be seen, as the proprietor, who was 
 then abroad, had left strict orders on that head. 
 The grounds were declared to be highly beautiful; 
 and Sir John, who was particularly warm in their 
 praise, might be allowed to be a tolerable judge, 
 for he had formed parties to visit them at least 
 twice every summer for the last ten years. They 
 contained a noble piece of water, — a sail on which 
 was to form a great part of the morning's amuse- 
 ment; cold provisions were to be taken, open 
 carriages only to be employed, and everything 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 93 
 
 conducted in the usual style of a complete party 
 of pleasure. 
 
 To some few of the company it appeared rather 
 a bold undertaking, considering the time of year, 
 and that it had rained every day for the last fort- 
 night; and Mrs. Dashwood, who had already a 
 cold, was persuaded by Elinor to stay at home. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 Their intended excursion to Whitwell turned out 
 very differently from what Elinor had expected. 
 She was prepared to be wet through, fatigued, and 
 frightened; but the event was still more unfortu- 
 nate, for they did not go at all. 
 
 By ten o'clock the whole party were assembled 
 at the Park, where they were to breakfast. The 
 morning was rather favorable, though it had rained 
 all night, as the clouds were then dispersing across 
 the sky, and the sun frequently appeared. They 
 were all in high spirits and good humor, eager to 
 be happy, and determined to submit to the great- 
 est inconveniences and hardships rather than be 
 otherwise. 
 
 While they were at breakfast the letters were 
 brought in. Among the rest there was one for 
 Colonel Brandon. He took it, looked at the di- 
 rection, changed color, and immediately left the 
 room. 
 
 What is the matter with Brandon? said Sir 
 John. 
 
 Nobody could tell. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 95 
 
 ^^I hope lie has had no bad news/' said Lady 
 Middleton. It must he something extraordinary 
 that could make Colonel Brandon leave my break- 
 fast-table so suddenly/' 
 
 In about five minutes he returned. 
 
 ^^No bad news, Colonel, I hope?'' said MrSo 
 Jennings, as soon as he entered the room. 
 
 ^^None at all, ma'am, I thank you." 
 Was it from Avignon? I hope it is not to say 
 that your sister is worse? " 
 
 " No, ma'am. It came from town, and is merely 
 a letter of business." 
 
 ^'But how came the hand to discompose you so 
 much, if it was only a letter of business? Come, 
 come, this won't do. Colonel; so let us hear the 
 truth of it." 
 
 My dear madam," said Lady Middleton, rec- 
 ollect what you are saying." 
 
 Perhaps it is to tell you that your cousin 
 Fanny is married? " said Mrs. Jennings, with- 
 out attending to her daughter's reproof. 
 
 "l^Oj indeed, it is not." 
 Well, then, I know whom it is from. Colonel. 
 And I hope she is well." 
 
 " Whom do you mean, ma'am? " said he, color- 
 ing a little. 
 
 ^^Oh! you know who I mean." 
 
 " I am particularly sorry, ma'am," said he, 
 addressing Lady Middleton, ^^that I should re- 
 
96 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ceive this letter to-daj, for it is on business which 
 requires my immediate attendance in town.'^ 
 
 In town! cried Mrs. Jennings. ^^What can 
 you have to do in town at this tim^e of year? 
 
 My own loss is great/' he continued, ^^in 
 being obliged to leave so agreeable a party; but I 
 am the more concerned as I fear my presence is 
 necessary to gain your admittance at Whitwell .'^ 
 
 What a blow upon them all was this ! 
 
 ^^But if you write a note to the housekeeper, 
 Mr. Brandon/' said Marianne, eagerly, ^Svill it 
 not be sufficient? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 We must go," said Sir John. ^^It shall not 
 be put off when we are so near it. You cannot go 
 to town till to-morrow, Brandon, that is all." 
 
 ^^I wish it could be so easily settled; but it 
 is not in my power to delay my journey for one 
 day! " 
 
 ^^If you would but let us know what your 
 business is," said Mrs. Jennings, ^^we might see 
 whether it could be put off or not." 
 
 You would not be six hours later," said Wil- 
 loughby, ^^if you were to defer your journey till 
 our return." 
 
 '^I cannot afford to lose one hour." 
 
 Elinor then heard Willoughby say, in a low 
 voice, to Marianne: There are some people who 
 cannot bear a party of pleasure. Brandon is one 
 
SENSE AWD SENSIBILITY. 
 
 97 
 
 of them. He was afraid of catching cold, I dare 
 say, and invented this trick for getting out of it, 
 I would lay fifty guineas the letter was of his own 
 writing.'^ 
 
 I have no doubt of it/' replied Marianne. 
 
 There is no persuading you to change your 
 mind, Brandon, I know of old,'' said Sir John, 
 when once you are determined on anything. 
 But, however, I hope you will think better of it. 
 Consider, — here are the two Miss Careys come 
 over from Newton, the three Miss Dashwoods 
 walked up from the cottage, and Mr. Willoughby 
 got up two hours before his usual time, on pur- 
 pose to go to Whitwell." 
 
 Colonel Brandon again repeated his sorrow at 
 being the cause of disappointing the party, but 
 at the same time declared it to be unavoidable. 
 
 Well, then, when will you come back again?" 
 
 I hope we shall see you at Barton," added her 
 ladyship, ' ' as soon as you can conveniently leave 
 town ; and we must put off the party to Whitwell 
 till you return." 
 
 " You are very obliging; but it is so uncertain 
 when I may have it in my power to return, that I 
 dare not engage for it at all." 
 
 ^^Oh! he must and shall come back," cried Sir 
 John. " If he is not here by the end of the week, 
 I shall go after him." 
 
 ^^Ay, so do. Sir John," cried Mrs. Jennings, 
 
 VOL. I. — 7 
 
98 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ^^and then perhaps you may find out what his 
 business is/' 
 
 ^^I do not want to pry into other men's concerns. 
 I suppose it is something he is ashamed of." 
 
 Colonel Brandon's horses were announced. 
 You do not go to town on horseback, do you?" 
 added Sir John. 
 
 " No. Only to Honiton. I shall then go post." 
 Well, as you are resolved to go, I wish you a 
 good journey; but you had better change your 
 mind." 
 
 I assure you it is not in my power." 
 He then took leave of the whole party. 
 " Is there no chance of my seeing you and your 
 sisters in town this winter, Miss Dashwood? " 
 " I am afraid none at all." 
 
 ^^Then I must bid you farewell for a longer 
 time than I should wish to do." 
 
 To Marianne he merely bowed and said nothing. 
 
 ^^Come, Colonel," said Mrs. Jennings, before 
 you go do let us know what you are going about." 
 
 He wished her a good-morning, and, attended 
 by Sir John, left the room. 
 
 The complaints and lamentations which polite- 
 ness had hitherto restrained, now burst forth uni- 
 versally; and they all agreed again and again how 
 provoking it was to be so disappointed. 
 
 ^^I can guess what his business is, however," 
 said Mrs. Jennings, exultingly. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 99 
 
 Can you, ma'am? said almost everybody. 
 Yes; it is about Miss Williams, I am sure.'' 
 " And who is Miss Williams? " asked Mari- 
 anne. 
 
 " What! do not you know who Miss Williams 
 is? I am sure you must have heard of her before. 
 She is a relation of the Colonel's, my dear; a very 
 near relation. We will not say how near, for fear 
 of shocking the young ladies." Then lowering 
 her voice a little, she said to Elinor, " She is his 
 natural daughter." 
 
 ^andeed! " 
 
 ^^Oh, yes; and as like him as she can stare. 
 I dare say the Colonel will leave her all his 
 fortune." 
 
 When Sir John returned, he joined most heartily 
 in the general regret on so unfortunate an event; 
 concluding, however, by observing that as they 
 were all got together, they must do something by 
 way of being happy; and after some consultation 
 it was agreed that although happiness could only 
 be enjoyed at Whit well, they might procure a tol- 
 erable composure of mind by driving about the 
 country. The carriages were then ordered. Wil- 
 loughby's was first, and Marianne never looked 
 happier than when she got into it. He drove 
 through the park very fast, and they were soon 
 out of sight; and nothing more of them was seen 
 till their return, which did not happen till after 
 
100 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 the return of all the rest. They both seemed de- 
 lighted with their drive; but said only in general 
 terms that they had kept in the lanes^ while the 
 others went on the downs. 
 
 It was settled that there should be a dance in 
 the evening, and that everybody should be ex- 
 tremely merry all day long. Some more of the 
 Careys came to dinner; and they had the pleasure 
 of sitting down nearly twenty to table, which Sir 
 John observed with great contentment. Wil- 
 loughby took his usual place between the two 
 elder Miss Dashwoods. Mrs. Jennings sat on 
 Elinor's right hand; and they had not been long 
 seated, before she leaned behind her and Wil- 
 loughby, and said to Marianne, loud enough for 
 them both to hear: I have found you out in spite 
 of all your tricks. I know where you spent the 
 morning." 
 
 Marianne colored, and replied very hastily, 
 
 Where, pray?" 
 
 Did not you know," said Willoughby, ^^that 
 we had been out in my curricle? " 
 
 ^^Yes, yes, Mr. Impudence, I know that very 
 well, and I was determined to find out where you 
 had been to. I hope you like your house, Miss 
 Marianne. It is a very large one, I know; and 
 when I come to see you, I hope you will have new^- 
 furnished it, for it wanted it very much when I 
 was there six years ago." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 101 
 
 Marianne turned away in great confusion. Mrs. 
 Jennings laughed heartily; and Elinor found that 
 in her resolution to know where they had been, she 
 had actually made her own woman inquire of Mr. 
 Willoughby's groom, and that she had by that 
 method been informed that they had gone to Allen- 
 ham, and spent a considerable time there in walking 
 about the garden and going all over the house. 
 
 Elinor could hardly believe this to be true; as 
 it seemed very unlikely that Willoughby should 
 propose, or Marianne consent, to enter the house 
 while Mrs. Smith was in it, with whom Mari- 
 anne had not the smallest acquaintance. 
 
 As soon as they left the dining-room, Elinor in- 
 quired of her about it; and great was her surprise 
 when she found that every circumstance related by 
 Mrs. Jennings was perfectly true. Marianne was 
 quite angry with her for doubting it. 
 
 <^ Why should you imagine, Elinor, that we did 
 not go there, or that we did not see the house? Is 
 not it what you have often wished to do yourself?" 
 
 Yes, Marianne; but I would not go while Mrs. 
 Smith was there, and with no other companion 
 than Mr. Willoughby.'^ 
 
 ^^Mr. Willoughby, however, is the only person 
 who can have a right to show that house; and as 
 he went in an open carriage, it was impossible to 
 have any other companion. I never spent a pleas- 
 anter morning in my life." 
 
102 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 I am afraid/' replied Elinor, " that the pleas- 
 antness of an employment does not always evince 
 its propriety." 
 
 " On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger 
 proof of it, Elinor; for if there had been an^^ real 
 impropriety in what I did, I should have been 
 sensible of it at the time, for we always know 
 when we are acting wrong, and with such a con- 
 viction I could have had no pleasure.'' 
 
 " But, my dear Marianne, as it has already ex- 
 posed you to some very impertinent remarks, do 
 you not now begin to doubt the discretion of your 
 own conduct? " 
 
 ^^If the impertinent remarks of Mrs. Jennings 
 are to be the proof of impropriety in conduct, we 
 are all offending every moment of our lives. I 
 value not her censure any more than I should do 
 her commendation. I am not sensible of having 
 done anything wrong in walking over Mrs. Smith's 
 grounds or in seeing her house. They will one 
 day be Mr. Willoughby's, and — " 
 
 ^^If they were one day to be your own, Mari- 
 anne, you would not be justified in what you have 
 done." 
 
 She blushed at this hint ; but it was even visibly 
 gratifying to her; and after a ten minutes' inter- 
 val of earnest thought, she came to her sister 
 again, and said with great good humor: Perhaps, 
 Elinor, it was rather ill-judged in me to go to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 103 
 
 Allenham; but Mr. Willoughby wanted particu- 
 larly to sliow me the place; and it is a charming 
 house, I assure you. There is one remarkably 
 pretty sitting-room upstairs, of a nice comfortable 
 size for constant use, and with modern furniture 
 it would be delightful. It is a corner room, and 
 has windows on two sides. On one side you look 
 across the bowling-green, behind the house, to a 
 beautiful hanging wood, and on the other you have 
 a view of the church and village, and, beyond 
 them, of those fine, bold hills that we have so often 
 admired. I did not see it to advantage, for noth- 
 ing could be more forlorn than the furniture; 
 but if it were newly fitted up, — a couple of hun- 
 dred pounds, Willoughby says, would make it one 
 of the pleasantest summer-rooms in England." 
 
 Could Elinor have listened to her without inter- 
 ruption from the others, she would have described 
 every room in the house with equal debght. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The sudden termination of Colonel Brandon's 
 visit at the Park, with his steadiness in conceal- 
 ing its cause, filled the mind, and raised the won- 
 der, of Mrs. Jennings for two or three days: she 
 was a great wonderer, as every one must be who 
 takes a very lively interest in all the comings and 
 goings of all their acquaintance. She wondered, 
 with little intermission, what could be the reason 
 of it; was sure there must be some bad news, and 
 thought over every kind of distress that could 
 have befallen him, with a fixed determination that 
 he should not escape them all. 
 
 Something very melancholy must be the mat- 
 ter, I am sure, said she. " I could see it in his 
 face. Poor man! I am afraid his circumstances 
 may be bad. The estate at Delaford was never 
 reckoned more than two thousand a year, and his 
 brother left everything sadly involved. I do 
 think he must have been sent for about money 
 matters, for what else can it be? I wonder 
 whether it is so. I would give anything to know 
 the truth of it. Perhaps it is about Miss Williams 
 — and, by the by, I dare say it is, because he 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 105 
 
 looked so conscious when I mentioned her. Maybe 
 she is ill in town; nothing in the world more 
 likely, for I have a notion she is always rather 
 sickly. I w^ould lay any wager it is about Miss 
 Williams. It is not so very likely he should be 
 distressed in his circumstances 71010, for he is a 
 very prudent man, and to be sure must have 
 cleared the estate by this time. I wonder what it 
 can be! Maybe his sister is worse at Avignon^ 
 and has sent for him over. His setting off in 
 such a hurry seems very like it. Well, I wish 
 him out of all his trouble, with all my heart, and 
 a good wife into the bargain.'' 
 
 So wondered, so talked Mrs. Jennings; her 
 opinion varying Avith every fresh conjecture, and 
 all seeming equally probable as they arose. Elinor, 
 though she felt really interested in the welfare of 
 Colonel Brandon, could not bestow all the wonder 
 on his going so suddenly away which Mrs. Jen- 
 nings was desirous of her feeling; for besides that 
 the circumstance did not, in her opinion, justify 
 such lasting amazement or variety of speculation, 
 her wonder was otherwise disposed of. It was 
 engrossed by the extraordinary silence of her 
 sister and Willoughby on the subject which they 
 must know to be peculiarly interesting to them 
 all. As this silence continued, every day made it 
 appear more strange and more incompatible with 
 the disposition of both. Why they should not 
 
106 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 openly acknowledge to her mother and herself 
 what their constant behavior to each other declared 
 to have taken place, Elinor could not imagine. 
 
 She could easily conceive that marriage might 
 not be immediately in their power; for though 
 Willoughby was independent, there was no reason 
 to believe him rich. His estate had been rated 
 by Sir John at about six or seven hundred a year; 
 but he lived at an expense to which that income 
 could hardly be equal, and he had himself often 
 complained of his poverty. But for this strange 
 kind of secrecy, maintained by them relative to 
 their engagement, which in fact concealed nothing 
 at all, she could not account ; and it was so wholly 
 contradictory to their general opinions and prac- 
 tice that a doubt sometimes entered her mind of 
 their being really engaged, and this doubt was 
 enough to prevent her making any inquiry of 
 Marianne. 
 
 Nothing could be more expressive of attachment 
 to them all than Willoughby 's behavior. To 
 Marianne it had all the distinguishing tenderness 
 which a lover's heart could give, and to the rest of 
 the family it was the affectionate attention of a 
 son and a brother. The cottage seemed to be con- 
 sidered and loved by him as his home ; many more 
 of his hours were spent there than at Allenham; 
 and if no general engagement collected them at 
 the Park, the exercise which called him out in the 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 107 
 
 morning was almost certain of ending there, where 
 the rest of the clay was spent by himself at the 
 side of Marianne, and by his favorite pointer at 
 her feet. 
 
 One evening in particular, about a week after 
 Colonel Brandon had left the country, his heart 
 seemed more than usually open to every feeling of 
 attachment to the objects around him; and on Mrs. 
 Dashwood's happening to mention her design of 
 improving the cottage in the spring, he warmly 
 opposed every alteration of a place which affection 
 had established as perfect with him. 
 
 ^^What!'' he exclaimed, improve this dear 
 cottage! No. That I will never consent to. 
 Not a stone must be added to its walls, not an 
 inch to its size, if my feelings are regarded." 
 
 ^^Do not be alarmed," said Miss Dashwood, 
 
 nothing of the kind will be done; for my mother 
 will never have money enough to attempt it." 
 
 ^^I am heartily glad of it," he cried. ^^May 
 she always be poor, if she can employ her riches 
 no better." 
 
 Thank you, Willoughby. But you may be 
 assured that I would not sacrifice one sentiment 
 of local attachment of yours, or of any one whom 
 I loved, for all the improvements in the world. 
 Depend upon it, that whatever unemployed sum 
 may remain, when I make up my accounts in the 
 spring, I would even rather lay it uselessly by 
 
108 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, 
 
 than dispose of it in a manner so painful to you. 
 But are you really so attached to this place as to 
 see no defect in it? ^' 
 
 ^^I am/' said he. ^^To me it is faultless. 
 Nay, more, I consider it as the only form of build- 
 ing in which happiness is attainable; and were I 
 rich enough I w^ould instantly pull Combe down, 
 and build it up again in the exact plan of this 
 cottage." 
 
 ^^With dark narrow stairs, and a kitchen that 
 smokes, I suppose," said Elinor. 
 
 ^^Yes, " cried he, in the same eager tone, ^^with 
 all and everything belonging to it, — in no one 
 convenience or inconvenience about it should the 
 least variation be perceptible. Then and then 
 only, under such a roof, I might perhaps be as 
 happy at Combe as I have been at Barton." 
 
 I flatter myself, " replied Elinor, ^^that even 
 under the disadvantage of better rooms and a 
 broader staircase, you will hereafter find your own 
 house as faultless as you now do this." 
 
 " There certainly are circumstances," said Wil- 
 loughby, which might greatly endear it to me; 
 but this place will always have one claim on my 
 affection, which no other can possibly share." 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood looked with pleasure at Mari- 
 anne, whose fine eyes were fixed so expressively 
 on Willoughby as plainly denoted how well she 
 understood him. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 109 
 
 ^^How often did I wish/' added lie, ^Svlien I 
 was at Allenham, this time twelvemonth, that 
 Barton Cottage were inhabited! I never passed 
 within view of it without admiring its situation, 
 and grieving that no one should live in it. How 
 little did I then think that the very first news I 
 should hear from Mrs. Smith, when I next came 
 into the country, would be that Barton Cottage 
 was taken; and I felt an immediate satisfaction 
 and interest in the event, which nothing but a 
 kind of prescience of what happiness I should 
 experience from it can account for. Must it not 
 have been so, Marianne? speaking to her in a 
 lowered voice. Then continuing his former tone, 
 he said: ^^And yet this house you would spoil, 
 Mrs. Dashwood? You would rob it of its sim- 
 plicity by imaginary improvement ! and this dear 
 parlor in which our acquaintance first began, and 
 in which so many happy hours have been since 
 spent by us together, you would degrade to the 
 condition of a common entrance, and everybody 
 would be eager to pass through the room which 
 has hitherto contained within itself more real ac- 
 commodation and comfort than any other apart- 
 ment of the handsomest dimensions in the world 
 could possibly afford.'' 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood again assured him that no al- 
 teration of the kind should be attempted. 
 
 You are a good woman,'' he warmly replied. 
 
110 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Your promise makes me easy. Extend it a little 
 further^ and it vvill make me happy. Tell me that 
 not only your house will remain the same, but 
 that I shall ever find you and yours as unchanged 
 as your dwelling; and that you will always con- 
 sider me with the kindness which has made every- 
 thing belonging to you so dear to me.'' 
 
 The promise was readily given, and Wil- 
 loughby's behavior during the whole of the even- 
 ing declared at once his affection and happiness. 
 
 " Shall we see you to-morrow to dinner? " said 
 Mrs. Dashwood, when he was leaving them. I do 
 not ask you to come in the morning, for we must 
 walk to the Park, to call on Lady Middleton." 
 
 He engaged to be with them by four o'clock. 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood's visit to Lady Middleton took 
 place the next day, and two of her daughters went 
 with her ; but Marianne excused herself from being 
 of the party, under some trifling pretext of em- 
 ployment; and her mother, who concluded that a 
 promise had been made by Willoughby the night 
 before of calling on her while they were absent, 
 was perfectly satisfied with her remaining at 
 home. 
 
 On their return from the Park, they found Wil- 
 loughby's curricle and servant in waiting at the 
 cottage, and Mrs. Dash wood was convinced that 
 her conjecture had been just. So far it was all as 
 she had foreseen; but on entering the house she 
 beheld what no foresight had taught her to expect. 
 They were no sooner in the passage than Marianne 
 came hastily out of the parlor apparently in vio- 
 lent affliction, with her handkerchief at her eyes, 
 and, without noticing them, ran upstairs. Sur- 
 prised and alarmed, they proceeded directly into 
 the room she had just quitted, where they found 
 only Willoughby, who was leaning against the 
 mantelpiece with his back towards them. He 
 
112 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 turned round on their coming in, and his coun- 
 tenance showed that he strongly partook of the 
 emotion which overpowered Marianne. 
 
 ^^Is anything the matter with her?" cried Mrs. 
 Dashwood, as she entered, — ^^is she ill? " 
 
 ^^I hope not/' he replied, trying to look cheer- 
 ful; and with a forced smile presently added, " It 
 is I who may rather expect to be ill, — for I am now 
 suffering under a very heavy disappointment! 
 
 ^^Disappointment! " 
 Yes, for I am unable to keep my engagement 
 with you. Mrs. Smith has this morning exercised 
 the privilege of riches upon a poor dependent 
 cousin, by sending me on business to London. I 
 have just received my despatches, and taken my 
 farewell of Allenham; and by way of exhilaration 
 I am now come to take my farewell of you." 
 
 ^^To London! — and are you going this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 Almost this moment." 
 
 ^^This is very unfortunate. But Mrs. Smith 
 must be obliged, and her business wull not detain 
 you from us long, I hope ? ' ' 
 
 He colored as he replied: You are very kind; 
 but I have no idea of returning into Devonshire 
 immediately. My visits to Mrs. Smith are never 
 repeated within the twelvemonth." 
 
 ^^And is Mrs. Smith your only friend? Is 
 Allenham the only house in the neighborhood to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 113 
 
 which you will be welcome? For shame, Wil- 
 loughby; can you wait for an invitation here? " 
 
 His color increased; and, with his eyes fixed 
 on the ground, he only replied, ^^You are too 
 good.'^ 
 
 Mrs. Dasliwood looked at Elinor with surprise. 
 Elinor felt equal amazement. Eor a few moments 
 every one was silent. Mrs. Dashwood first spoke. 
 
 I have only to add, my dear Willoughhy, that 
 at Barton Cottage you will always be welcome; 
 for I will not press you to return here immedi- 
 ately, because you only can judge how far that 
 might be pleasing to Mrs. Smith; and on this 
 head I shall be no more disposed to question your 
 judgment than to doubt your inclination.'^ 
 
 ^^My engagements at present," replied Wil- 
 loughhy, confusedly, ^^are of such a nature — 
 that — I dare not flatter myself — " 
 
 He stopped. Mrs. Dashwood was too much 
 astonished to speak, and another pause succeeded. 
 This was broken by Willoughhy, who said, with a 
 faint smile: It is folly to linger in this manner. 
 I will not torment myself any longer by remaining 
 among friends whose society it is impossible for 
 me now to enjoy.'' 
 
 He then hastily took leave of them all, and left 
 the room. They saw him step into his carriage, 
 and in a minute it was out of sight. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood felt too much for speech, and 
 
 VOL. I. — 8 
 
114 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 instantly quitted the parlor to give way in solitude 
 to the concern and alarm which this sudden depar- 
 ture occasioned. 
 
 Elinor's uneasiness was at least equal to her 
 mother's. She thought of what had just passed 
 with anxiety and distrust. Willoughhy's behav- 
 ior in taking leave of them, his embarrassment, 
 and affectation of cheerfulness, and, above all, his 
 unwillingness to accept her mother's invitation — 
 a backwardness so unlike a lover, so unlike him- 
 self — greatly disturbed her. One moment she 
 feared that no serious design had ever been formed 
 on his side, and the next that some unfortunate 
 quarrel had taken place between him and her 
 sister. The distress in which Marianne had 
 quitted the room was such as a serious quarrel 
 could most reasonably account for, though, when 
 she considered what Marianne's love for him was, 
 a quarrel seemed almost impossible. 
 
 But whatever might be the particulars of their 
 separation, her sister's affliction was indubitable; 
 and she thought with the tenderest compassion of 
 that violent sorrow which Marianne was in all 
 probability not merely giving way to as a relief, 
 but feeding and encouraging as a duty. 
 
 In about half an hour her mother returned, and 
 though her eyes were red, her countenance was not 
 uncheerful. 
 
 ^^Our dear Willoughby is now some miles from 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 115 
 
 Barton, Elinor/' said she, as she sat down to work; 
 " and with how heavy a heart does he travel! " 
 
 ^^It is all very strange. So suddenly to be 
 gone ! It seems but the work of a moment. And 
 last night he was with us so happy, so cheerful, so 
 affectionate! And now, after only ten minutes' 
 notice, — gone, too, without intending to return! 
 Something more than what he owned to us must 
 have happened. He did not speak, he did not be- 
 have like himself. You must have seen the dif- 
 ference as well as I. What can it be? Can they 
 have quarrelled? Why else should he have shown 
 such unwillingness to accept your invitation 
 here? " 
 
 ^^It was not inclination that he wanted, Elinor; 
 I could plainly see that. He had not the power of 
 accepting it. I have thought it all over, I assure 
 you, and I can perfectly account for everything 
 that at first seemed strange to me as well as to 
 you.'' 
 
 " Can you, indeed? " 
 
 ^^Yes. I have explained it to myself in the 
 most satisfactory way; but you, Elinor, who love 
 to doubt where you can, — it will not satisfy you, 
 I know; but you shall not talk me out of my trust 
 in it. I am persuaded that Mrs. Smith suspects 
 his regard for Marianne, disapproves of it (perhaps 
 because she has other views for him), and on that 
 • account is eager to get him away; and that the 
 
116 
 
 SE^s^SE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 business which she sends him off to transact is 
 invented as an excuse to dismiss him. This is 
 what I believe to have happened. He is, more- 
 over, aware that she does disapprove the con- 
 nection; he dares not therefore at present confess 
 to her his engagement with Marianne, and he feels 
 himself obliged, from his depender+t situation, to 
 give in to her schemes, and absent himself from 
 Devonshire for a while. You will tell me, I 
 know, that this may or may not have happened; 
 but I will listen to no cavil, unless you can point 
 out any other method of understanding the affair 
 as satisfactory as this. And now, Elinor, what 
 have you to say?" 
 
 " Nothing, for you have anticipated my answer." 
 
 " Then you would have told me that it might 
 or might not have happened. Oh, Elinor, how 
 incomprehensible are your feelings! You had 
 rather take evil upon credit than good. You had 
 rather look out for misery for Marianne, and guilt 
 for poor Willoughby, than an apology for the 
 latter. You are resolved to think him blamable, 
 because he took leave of us with less affection than 
 his usual behavior has shown. And is no allow- 
 ance to be made for inadvertence, or for spirits 
 depressed by recent disappointment? Are no pro- 
 babilities to be accepted, merely because they are 
 not certainties? Is nothing due to the man whom 
 we have all so much reason to love, and no reason 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 117 
 
 in the world to think ill of? — to the possibilitj^ of 
 motives unanswerable in themselves, though un- 
 avoidably secret for a while? And, after all, what 
 is it you suspect him of ? ^' 
 
 ^^I can hardly tell you myself. But suspicion 
 of something unpleasant is the inevitable con- 
 sequence of such an alteration as we have just 
 witnessed in him. There is great truth, however, 
 in what you have now urged of the allowances 
 which ought to be made for him, and it is my wish 
 to be candid in my judgment of everybody. Wil- 
 loughby may, undoubtedly, have very sufficient 
 reasons for his conduct, and I will hope that he 
 has. But it would have been more like Wil- 
 loughby to acknowledge them at once. Secrecy 
 may be advisable ; but still I cannot help wonder- 
 ing at its being practised by him.'' 
 
 ^^Do not blame him, however, for departing 
 from his character, where the deviation is neces- 
 sary. But you really do admit the justice of what 
 I have said in his defence? I am happy, — and 
 he is acquitted." 
 
 ^^Kot entirely. It may be proper to conceal 
 their engagement (if they are engaged) from Mrs. 
 Smith; and if that is the case, it must be highly 
 expedient for Willoughby to be but little in 
 Devonshire at present. But this is no excuse for 
 their concealing it from us.'' 
 
 Concealing it from us! my dear child, do you 
 
118 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 accuse Willougliby and Marianne of concealment? 
 This is strange, indeed, when your eyes have been 
 reproaching them every day for incautiousness." 
 
 ^^I want no proof of their affection," said 
 Elinor, " but of their engagement I do." 
 
 ^^I am perfectly satisfied of both." 
 
 " Yet not a syllable has been said to you on the 
 subject by either of them." 
 
 ^^I have not wanted syllables where actions 
 have spoken so plainly. Has not his behavior to 
 Marianne and to all of us, for at least the last 
 fortnight, declared that he loved and considered 
 her as his future wife, and that he felt for us the 
 attachment of the nearest relation? Have we not 
 perfectly understood each other? Has not my con- 
 sent been daily asked by his looks, his manner, 
 his attentive and affectionate respect? My Elinor, 
 is it possible to doubt their engagement? How 
 could such a thought occur to you? How is it to 
 be supposed that Willoughby, persuaded as he 
 must be of your sister's love, should leave her, and 
 leave her perhaps for months, without telling her 
 of his affection, — that they should part without a 
 mutual exchange of confidence? " 
 
 ^^I confess," replied Elinor, ^^that every cir- 
 cumstance, except one, is in favor of their en- 
 gagement; but that one is the total silence of both 
 on the subject, and with me it almost outweighs 
 every other." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 119 
 
 ^^PIow strange tins is! You must think 
 wretchedly indeed of Willoughhy, if, after all 
 that has openly passed between them, you can 
 douht the nature of the terms on which they are 
 together. Has he been acting a part in his be- 
 havior to your sister all this time? Do you sup- 
 pose him really indifferent to her? 
 
 ^^No, I cannot think that. He must and does 
 love her, I am sure.^' 
 
 " But with a strange kind of tenderness, if he 
 can leave her with such indifference, such careless- 
 ness of the future, as you attribute to him.'^ 
 
 You must remember, my dear mother, that I 
 have never considered this matter as certain. I 
 have had my doubts, I confess ; but they are fainter 
 than they were, and they may soon be entirely 
 done away. If we find they correspond, every fear 
 of mine will be removed." 
 
 A mighty concession indeed! If you were to 
 see them at the altar, you would suppose they were 
 going to be married. Ungracious girl! But I 
 require no such proof. Nothing in my opinion 
 has ever passed to justify doubt; no secrecy has 
 been attempted; all has been uniformly open and 
 unreserved. You cannot doubt your sister's wishes. 
 It must be Willoughb}^, therefore, whom you 
 suspect. But why? Is he not a man of honor 
 and feeling? Has there been any inconsistency 
 on his side to create alarm? Can he be deceitful? 
 
120 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 '^I hope not, I believe not/' cried Elinor. ^^I 
 love Willougliby, sincerely love liim; and suspicion 
 of his integrity cannot be more painful to yourself 
 than to me. It has been involuntary, and I v> ill 
 not encourage it. I was startled, I confess, b}^ the 
 alteration in his manners this morning; he did 
 not speak like himself, and did not return your 
 kindness with any cordiality. But all this may 
 be explained by such a situation of his affairs as 
 you have supposed. He had just parted from my 
 sister, had seen her leave him in the greatest 
 affliction; and if he felt obliged, from a fear of 
 offending Mrs. Smith, to resist the temptation of 
 returning here soon^ and yet aware that by de- 
 clining your invitation, by saying that he was 
 going away for some time, he should seem to act an 
 ungenerous, a suspicious part by our family, he 
 might well be embarrassed and disturbed. In 
 such a case a plain and open avowal of his 
 difficulties would have been more to his honor, 
 I think, as well as more consistent with his 
 general character; but I will not raise objections 
 against any one's conduct on so illiberal a foun- 
 dation as a difference in judgment from myself, or 
 a deviation from what I may think right and 
 consistent.'' 
 
 ^^You speak very properly. Willoughby cer- 
 tainly does not deserve to be suspected. Though 
 we have not known him long, he is no stranger in 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 121 
 
 this part of the Avorld; and who has ever spoken to 
 his disadvantage? Had he been in a situation 
 to net independently and marry immediately, it 
 might have been odd that he should leave us 
 without acknowledging everything to me at once; 
 but this is not the case. It is an engagement 
 in some respects not prosperously begun, for their 
 marriage must be at a very uncertain distance; 
 and even secrecy, as far as it can be observed, may 
 now be very advisable.'' 
 
 They were interrupted by the entrance of Mar- 
 garet; and Elinor was then at liberty to thin e 
 over the representations of her mother, to acknowl- 
 edge the probability of many, and hope for the 
 justice of all. 
 
 They saw nothing of Marianne till dinner-time, 
 when she entered the room and took her place at 
 the table without saying a word. Her eyes were 
 red and swollen; and it seemed as if her tears 
 were even then restrained with difficulty. She 
 avoided the looks of them all, could neither eat 
 nor speak, and after some time, on her mother's 
 silently pressing her hand with tender compassion, 
 her small degree of fortitude was quite overcome, 
 she burst into tears, and left the room. 
 
 This violent oppression of spirits continued the 
 whole evening. She w^as without any power, 
 because she was without any desire, of command 
 over herself. The slightest mention of anything 
 
122 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 relative to Willoughby overpowered her in an 
 instant; and though her family were most anx- 
 iously attentive to her comfort, it was impossible 
 for them, if they spoke at all, to keep clear 
 of every subject which her feelings connected 
 with him. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 Marianne would have thought herself very inex- 
 cusable had she been able to sleep at all the first 
 night after parting from Willoughby. She would 
 have been ashamed to look her family in the face 
 the next morning, had she not risen from her bed 
 in more need of repose than when she lay down in 
 it. But the feelings which made such composure 
 a disgrace left her in no danger of incurring it. 
 She was awake the whole night, and she wept the 
 greatest part of it. She got up with a headache, 
 was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any 
 nourishment; giving pain every moment to her 
 mother and sisters, and forbidding all attempt at 
 consolation from either. Her sensibility was po- 
 tent enough! 
 
 When breakfast was over she walked out by her- 
 self, and wandered about the village of Allenham, 
 indulging the recollection of past enjoyment and 
 crying over the present reverse for the chief of the 
 morning. 
 
 The evening passed off in the equal indulgence 
 of feeling. She played over every favorite song 
 
124 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 that she had been used to play to Willonghby, 
 every air in which their voices had been oftenest 
 joined, and sat at the instrument gazing on every 
 line of music that he had written out for her, till 
 her heart w^as so heavy that no further sadness 
 could be gained; and this nourishment of grief 
 was every day applied. She spent whole hours at 
 the pianoforte, alternately singing and crjang; her 
 voice often totally suspended by her tears. In 
 books, too, as well as in music, she courted the 
 misery which a contrast between the past and 
 present was certain of giving. She read nothing 
 but what they had been used to read together. 
 
 Such violence of affliction indeed could not be 
 supported forever; it sunk within a few days into 
 a calmer melancholy; but these employments, to 
 which she daily recurred, her solitary walks and 
 silent meditations, still produced occasional effu- 
 sions of sorrow as lively as ever. 
 
 No letter from Willoughby came; and none 
 seemed expected by Marianne. Her mother was 
 surprised, and Elinor again became uneasy. But 
 Mrs. Dashwood could find explanations, when- 
 ever she wanted them, which at least satisfied 
 herself. 
 
 ^^Eemember, Elinor," she said, ^^how very 
 often Sir John fetches our letters himself from 
 the post, and carries them to it. We have already 
 agreed that secrecy may be necessary, and we must 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 125 
 
 acknowledge that it could not be maintained if 
 their correspondence were to pass through Sir 
 John's hands. 
 
 Elinor could not deny the truth of this, and she 
 tried to find in it a motive sufficient for their si- 
 lence. But there was one method so direct, so 
 simple, and in her opinion so eligible of knowing 
 the real state of the affair, and of instantly remov- 
 ing all mystery, that she could not help suggesting 
 it to her mother. 
 
 Why do you not ask Marianne at once,'' said 
 she, whether she is or is not engaged to Wil- 
 loughby? From you, her mother, and so kind, so 
 indulgent a mother, the question could not give 
 offence. It would be the natural result of your 
 affection for her. She used to be all unreserve, 
 and to you more especially." 
 
 I would not ask such a question for the w^orld. 
 Supposing it possible that they are not engaged, 
 w^hat distress would not such an inquir}'- inflict! 
 At any rate, it would be most ungenerous. I 
 should never deserve her confidence again, after 
 forcing from her a confession of w^hat is meant at 
 present to be unacknowledged to any one. I know 
 Marianne's heart; I know that she dearly loves 
 me, and that I shall not be the last to whom the 
 affair is made known, when circumstances make 
 the revealment of it eligible. I would not attempt 
 to force the confidence of any one, — of a child much 
 
126 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 less; because a sense of duty would prevent the 
 denial wliicli her wishes might direct.'' 
 
 Elinor thought this generosity overstrained, con- 
 sidering her sister's youth, and urged the matter 
 further, but in vain; common sense, common care, 
 common prudence, were all sunk in Mrs. Dash- 
 wood's romantic delicacy. 
 
 It was several days before Willoughby's name 
 was mentioned before Marianne by any of her fam- 
 ily (Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, indeed, were 
 not so nice ; their witticisms added pain to many 
 a painful hour) ; but one evening Mrs. Dashwood, 
 accidentally taking up a volume of Shakespeare, 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ^^We have never finished Hamlet, Marianne; 
 our dear Willoughby went away before we could 
 get through it. We will put it by, that when he 
 comes again — But it may be months, perhaps, 
 before that happens." 
 
 Months!" cried Marianne, with strong sur- 
 prise. " IsTo, — nor many weeks." 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood was sorry for what she had said; 
 but it gave Elinor pleasure, as it produced a reply 
 from Marianne so expressive of confidence in Wil- 
 loughby and knowledge of his intentions. 
 
 One morning, about a week after his leaving the 
 country, Marianne was prevailed on to join her 
 sisters in their usual walk, instead of wandering 
 away by herself. Hitherto she had carefully 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 127 
 
 avoided every companion in her rambles. If lier 
 sisters intended to walk on the downs, she directly 
 stole away towards the lanes ; if they talked of the 
 valley, she was as speedy in climbing the hills, 
 and could never be found when the others set off. 
 But at length she was secured by the exertions of 
 Elinor, who greatly disapproved such continual se- 
 clusion. They walked along the road through the 
 valley, and chiefly in silence; for Marianne's mind 
 could not be controlled, and Elinor, satisfied with 
 gaining one point, would not then attempt more. 
 Beyond the entrance of the valley, where the 
 country, though still rich, was less wild and 
 more open, a long stretch of the road which they 
 had travelled on first coming to Barton lay before 
 them; and on reaching that point they stopped to 
 look around them, and examine a prospect which 
 formed the distance of their view from the cottage, 
 from a spot w^hich they had never happened to 
 reach in any of their walks before. 
 
 Amongst the objects in the scene they soon dis- 
 covered an animated one; it was a man on horse- 
 back riding towards them. In a few minutes they 
 could distinguish him to be a gentleman; and 
 in a moment afterwards Marianne rapturously 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ^^It is he, — it is indeed; I know it is!'' and 
 was hastening to meet him, when Elinor cried 
 out, — 
 
128 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Indeed, Marianne, I think you are mistaken. 
 It is not Willoughby. The person is not tall 
 enough for him, and has not his air.'' 
 
 " He has, he has/' cried Marianne; ^^1 am sure 
 he has, — his air, his coat, his horse. I knew how 
 soon he would come." 
 
 She walked eagerly on as she spoke ; and Elinor, 
 to screen Marianne from particularity, as she felt 
 almost certain of its not being Willoughby, quick- 
 ened her pace and kept up with her. They were 
 soon within thirty yards of the gentleman. Mari- 
 anne looked again; her heart sunk within her; 
 and abruptly turning round, she was hurrying 
 back, when the voices of both her sisters were 
 raised to detain her; a third, almost as well known 
 as Willoughby's, joined them in begging her to 
 stop, and she turned round with surprise to see 
 and welcome Edward Eerrars. 
 
 He was the only person in the world w^ho could 
 at that moment be forgiven for not being Wil- 
 loughby, the only one who could have gained a 
 smile from her; but she dispersed her tears to 
 smile on him, and in her sister's happiness forgot 
 for a time her own disappointment. 
 
 He dismounted, and giving his horse to his ser- 
 vant, walked back with them to Barton, whither 
 he was purposely coming to visit them. 
 
 He was welcomed by them all with great cor- 
 diality, but especially by Marianne, who showed 
 
SENSE AND SENSIEn.ITY. 
 
 129 
 
 more warmth of regard in her reception of him 
 than even Elinor herself. To Marianne, indeed, 
 the meeting between Edward and her sister was 
 but a continuation of that unaccountable coldness 
 which she had observed at Norland in their mutual 
 behavior. On Edward's side, more particularly, 
 there was a deficiency of all that a lover ought to 
 look and say on such an occasion. He was con- 
 fused, seemed scarcely sensible of pleasure in see- 
 ing them, looked neither rapturous nor gay, said 
 little but what was forced from him by questions, 
 and distinguished Elinor by no mark of affection. 
 Marianne saw and listened with increasing sur- 
 prise. She began almost to feel a dislike of Ed- 
 ward; and it ended, as every feeling must end 
 with her, by carrying back her thoughts to Wil- 
 loughby, whose manners formed a contrast suffi- 
 ciently striking to those of his brother elect. 
 
 After a short silence which succeeded the first 
 surprise and inquiries of meeting, Marianne asked 
 Edward if he came directly from London. No, he 
 had been in Devonshire a fortnight. 
 
 ^^A fortnight! " she repeated, surprised at his 
 being so long in the same county with Elinor with- 
 out seeing her before. 
 
 He looked rather distressed as he added that 
 he had been staying with some friends near 
 Plymouth. 
 
 Have you been lately in Sussex? said Elinor. 
 
 VOL. I. — 9 
 
130 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 I was at Norland about a month ago." 
 And how does dear, dear Norland look? " 
 cried Marianne. 
 
 ^^Dear, dear Norland/^ said Elinor, probably 
 looks much as it always does at this time of the 
 year, — the woods and walks thickly covered with 
 dead leaves." 
 
 ^^Oh," cried Marianne, ^^with what transport- 
 ing sensations have I formerly seen them fall! 
 How have I delighted, as I walked, to see them 
 driven in showers about me by the wind! What 
 feelings have they, the season, the air altogether 
 inspired! Now there is no one to regard them. 
 They are seen only as a nuisance, swept hastily off, 
 and driven as much as possible from the sight." 
 
 ^^It is not everyone," said Elinor, ^^who has' 
 your passion for dead leaves." 
 
 " No. My feelings are not often shared, not 
 often understood; but sometimes they are." As 
 she said this she sunk into a reverie for a few 
 moments; but rousing herself again, ^^Now, Ed- 
 ward," said she, calling his attention to the pros- 
 pect, ^^here is Barton valley. Look up it, and 
 be tranquil if you can. Look at those hills. Did 
 you ever see their equals? To the left is Barton 
 Park, amongst those w^oods and plantations. You 
 may see the end of the house. And there, be- 
 neath that farthest hill, which rises with such 
 grandeur, is our cottage." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 131 
 
 ^^It is a beautiful country," he replied; ^^but 
 these bottoms must be dirty in winter." 
 
 ^^How can you think of dirt with such objects 
 before you? " 
 
 Because," replied he, smiling, among the 
 rest of the objects before me I see a very dirty 
 lane." 
 
 ^^How strange! " said Marianne to herself, as 
 she walked on. 
 
 ^^Have you an agreeable neighborhood here? 
 Are the Middletons pleasant people? " 
 
 "1^0, not all," answered Marianne ; ^^we could 
 not be more unfortunately situated." 
 
 Marianne," cried her sister, ^^how can you 
 say so? How can you be so unjust? They 
 are a very respectable family, Mr. Ferrars, and 
 towards us have behaved in the friendliest man- 
 ner. Have you forgot, Marianne, how many pleas- 
 ant days we have owed to them? " 
 
 ^^No," said Marianne, in a low voice, ^^nor 
 how many painful moments." 
 
 Elinor took no notice of this ; and directing her 
 attention to their visitor, endeavored to support 
 something like discourse with him, by talking of 
 their present residence, its conveniences, etc., ex- 
 torting from him occasional questions and remarks. 
 His coldness and reserve mortified her severely; 
 she was vexed and half angry; but resolving to 
 
132 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 regulate her behavior to him by the past rather 
 than the present, she avoided every appearance of 
 resentment or displeasure, and treated him as she 
 thought he ought to be treated from the family 
 connection. 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood was surprised only for a moment 
 at seeing him; for his coming to Barton was, in 
 her opinion, of all things the most natural. Her 
 joy and expressions of regard long outlived her 
 wonder. He received the kindest welcome from 
 her; and shyness, coldness, reserve could not stand 
 against such a reception. They had begun to fail 
 him before he entered the house, and they were 
 quite overcome by the captivating manners of Mrs. 
 Dashwood. Indeed a man could not very well be 
 in love with either of her daughters, without ex- 
 tending the passion to her; and Elinor had the 
 satisfaction of seeing him soon become more like 
 himself. His affections seemed to re-animate 
 towards them all, and his interest in their wel- 
 fare again became perceptible. He was not in 
 spirits, however; he praised their house, admired 
 its prospect, was attentive and kind; but still he 
 was not in spirits. The whole family perceived 
 it; and Mrs. Dashwood, attributing it to some 
 want of liberality in his mother, sat down to table 
 indignant against all selfish parents. 
 
134 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 What are Mrs. Ferrars's views for you at pres- 
 ent, Edward? said she, when dinner was over, 
 and they had drawn round the fire; " are you still 
 to be a great orator in spite of yourself? " 
 
 "1^0, I hope my mother is now convinced that 
 I have no more talents than inclination for a pub- 
 lic life.'^ 
 
 " But how is your fame to be established, — for 
 famous you must be to satisfy all your family ; and 
 with no inclination for expense, no affection for 
 strangers, no profession, and no assurance, you may 
 find it a difficult matter." 
 
 ^^I shall not attempt it. I have no wish to be 
 distinguished; and I have every reason to hope I 
 never shall. Thank Heaven! I cannot be forced 
 into genius and eloquence.'^ 
 
 ^^You have no ambition, I well know. Your 
 wishes are all moderate." 
 
 ' ' As moderate as those of the rest of the world, 
 I believe. I wish, as well as everybody else, to be 
 perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must 
 be in my own way. Greatness will not make 
 me so." 
 
 ' ' Strange if it would ! ' ^ cried Marianne. ' ' What 
 have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness? " 
 
 Grandeur has but little," said Elinor, ^^but 
 wealth has much to do with it." 
 
 Elinor, for shame! " said Marianne; money 
 can only give happiness where there is nothing else 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 135 
 
 to give it. Beyond a competence, it can afford no 
 real satisfaction, as far as mere self is concerned.'' 
 Perhaps/' said Elinor, smiling, we may 
 come to the same point. Your competence and 
 my wealth are very much alike, I dare say; and 
 without them, as the world goes now, we shall both 
 agree that every kind of external comfort must be 
 wanting. Your ideas are only more noble than 
 mine. Come, what is your competence? " 
 
 About eighteen hundred or two thousand a 
 year; not more than that,^^ 
 
 Elinor laughed. Two thousand a year! One 
 is my wealth! I guessed how it would end." 
 
 " And yet two thousand a year is a very mod- 
 erate income," said Marianne. ^^A family can- 
 not well be maintained on a smaller. I am sure 
 I am not extravagant in my demands. A propei* 
 establishment of servants, a carriage, perhaps two, 
 and hunters, cannot be supported on less." 
 
 Elinor smiled again, to hear her sister describ- 
 ing so accurately their future expenses at Combe 
 Magna. 
 
 ' ' Hunters ! ' ' repeated Edward ; ^ ' but why must 
 you have hunters? Everybody does not hunt." 
 
 Marianne colored as she replied, ^^But most 
 people do." 
 
 ^^I wish," said Margaret, striking out a novel 
 thought, ^^that somebody would give us all a larg^*^ 
 fortune apiece! " 
 
136 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Oh that the}^ would! " cried Marianne, her eyes 
 sparkling with animation, and her cheeks glowing 
 with the delight of such imaginary happiness. 
 
 ^^We are all unanimous in that wish, I sup- 
 pose/' said Elinor, in spite of the insufficiency 
 of wealth." 
 
 Oh dear! cried Margaret, how happy I 
 should be! I wonder what I should do with it.'' 
 
 Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that 
 point. 
 
 ^^I should be puzzled to spend a large fortune 
 myself," said Mrs. Dashwood, ^^if my children 
 were all to be rich without my help." 
 
 ^^You must begin your improvements on this 
 house," observed Elinor, ^^and your difficulties 
 will soon vanish." 
 
 ^^What magnificent orders would travel from 
 this family to London," said Edward, in such 
 an event! What a happy day for booksellers, 
 music-sellers, and print-shops! You, Miss Dash- 
 wood, would give a general commission for every 
 new print of merit to be sent you — and as for 
 Marianne, I know her greatness of soul; there 
 would not be music enough in London to content 
 her. And books ! — Thomson, Cowper, Scott, — 
 she would buy them all over and over again : she 
 would buy up every copy, I believe, to prevent their 
 falling into unworthy hands; and she would have 
 every book that tells her how to admire an old 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 137 
 
 twisted tree. Should not yon, Marianne? For- 
 give me, if I am very saucy; but I was willing to 
 show you that I had not forgot our old disputes." 
 
 ^* I love to be reminded of the past, Edward, — 
 whether it be melancholy or gay, I love to recall 
 it, — and you will never offend me by talking of 
 former times. You are very right in supposing 
 how my money would be spent; some of it, at 
 least, — my loose cash, — would certainly be em- 
 ployed in improving my collection of music and 
 books.'' 
 
 ' ' And the bulk of your fortune would be laid 
 out in annuities on the authors or their heirs.'' 
 
 ^^No, Edward, I should have something else to 
 ^o with it." 
 
 Perhaps, then, you would bestow it as a re- 
 ward on that person who wrote the ablest defence 
 of your favorite maxim, that no one can ever be in 
 love more than once in their life, — for your opinion 
 on that point is unchanged, I presume?" 
 
 Undoubtedly. At my time of life opinions 
 are tolerably fixed. It is not likely that I should 
 now see or hear anything to change them." 
 
 Marianne is as steadfast as ever, you see," 
 said Elinor; ^^she is not at all altered." 
 
 ' ' She is only grown a little more grave than she 
 was." 
 
 ^^ISTay, Edward," said Marianne, you need not 
 reproach me. You are not very gay yourself." 
 
138 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Why should you think so?'' replied he, with 
 a sigh. ^'But gayety never was a part of my 
 character/' 
 
 Nor do I think it a part of Marianne's/' said 
 Elinor. '^I should hardly call her a lively girl; 
 she is very earnest, very eager in all she does, — 
 sometimes talks a great deal, and always with ani- 
 mation, — hut she is not often really merry." 
 
 ^^I believe yon are right," he replied ^^and 
 yet I have always set her down as a lively girl." 
 
 I have frequently detected myself in such kind 
 of mistakes," said Elinor, in a total misappre- 
 hension of character in some point or other; fancy- 
 ing peoplu so much more gay or grave or ingenious 
 or stupid than they really are, and I can hardly 
 tell why, or m what the deception originated. 
 Sometimes one is guided by what they say of 
 themselves, and very frequently by what other 
 people say of them, without giving one's self 
 time to deliberate and judge." 
 
 ^^But I thought it was right, Elinor," said 
 Marianne, ^*to be guided wholly by the opinion of 
 other people. I thought our judgments were given 
 us merely to be subservient to those of our neigh- 
 bors. This has always been your doctrine, I am 
 sure." 
 
 '^No, Marianne, never. My doctrine has never 
 aimed at the subjection of the understanding. All 
 I have ever attempted to influence has been the 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 139 
 
 belavior. You must not confound my meaning. 
 I am guilty, I confess, of having often wished you 
 to treat our acquaintance in general with greater 
 attention; but when have I advised you to adopt 
 their sentiments or conform to their judgment in 
 serious matters? 
 
 ^^You have not been able, then, to bring 
 your sister over to your plan of general civil- 
 ity," said Edward to Elinor. ^^Do you gain no 
 ground? " 
 
 Quite the contrary," replied Elinor, looking 
 expressively at Marianne. 
 
 ^^M}^ judgment," he returned, ^^is all on your 
 side of the question; but I am afraid my practice 
 is much more on your sister's. I never wish to 
 offend, but I am so foolishly shy that I often seem 
 negligent, when I am only kept back by my natu- 
 ral awkwardness. I have frequently thought that 
 I must have been intended by nature to be fond of 
 low company, I am so little at my ease among 
 strangers of gentility! " 
 
 Marianne has not shyness to excuse any inat- 
 tention of hers," said Elinor. 
 
 ^' She knows her own worth too well for false 
 shame," replied Edward. Shyness is only the 
 effect of a sense of inferiority in some way or 
 other. If I could persuade myself that my man- 
 ners were perfectly easy and graceful, I should not 
 be shy." 
 
140 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY 
 
 ^^But you would still be reserved/' said Mari 
 anne, and that is worse." 
 
 Edward started. Reserved! Ami reserved, 
 Marianne? " 
 Yes, very." 
 
 I do not understand you," replied he, coloring. 
 *<Eeserved! — how, in what manner? What am 
 I to tell you? What can you suppose?" 
 
 Elinor looked surprised at his emotion; but try- 
 ing to laugh off the subject, she said to him: Do 
 not you know my sister well enough to under- 
 stand what she means? Do not you know she 
 calls every one reserved who does not talk as fast 
 and admire what she admires as rapturously as 
 herself?" 
 
 Edward made no answer. His gravity and 
 thoughtfulness returned on him in their fullest 
 extent; and he sat for some time silent and dull. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Elinor saw, with great uneasiness, the low spirits 
 of her friend. His visit afforded her but a very 
 partial satisfaction while his own enjoyment in it 
 appeared so imperfect. It was evident that he 
 was unhappy; she wished it were equally evident 
 that he still distinguished her by the same affec- 
 tion which once she had felt no doubt of inspiring; 
 but hitherto the continuance of his preference 
 seemed very uncertain, and the reservedness of 
 his manner towards her contradicted one moment 
 what a more animated look had intimated the pre- 
 ceding one. 
 
 He joined her and Marianne in the breakfast- 
 room the next morning before the others were 
 down; and Marianne, who was always eager to 
 promote their happiness as far as she could, soon 
 left them to themselves. But before she was half- 
 way upstairs she heard the parlor door open, and 
 turning round, was astonished to see Edward him- 
 self come out. 
 
 " I am going into the village to see my horses," 
 said he, as you are not yet ready for breakfast j I 
 shall be back again presently." 
 
142 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Edward returned to them with fresh admiration 
 of the surrounding country. In his walk to the 
 village he had seen many parts of the valley to ad- 
 vantage; and the village itself, in a much higher 
 situation than the cottage, afforded a general view 
 of the whole which had exceedingly pleased him. 
 This was a subject which insured Marianne's at- 
 tention; and she was beginning to describe her 
 own admiration of these scenes, and to question 
 him more minutely on the objects that had partic- 
 ularly struck him, when Edward interrupted her 
 by saying; You must not inquire too far, Mari- 
 anne. Remember I have no knowledge in the pic 
 turesque, and I shall offend you by my ignorance 
 and w^ant of taste if we come to particulars. I 
 shall call hills steep which ought to be bold, 
 surfaces strange and uncouth which ought to be 
 irregular and rugged, and distant objects out of 
 sight which ought only to be indistinct through 
 the soft medium of a hazy atmosphere. You must 
 be satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly 
 give. I call it a very fine country, — the hills 
 are steep, the woods seem full of fine timber, and 
 the valley looks comfortable and snug, — with 
 rich meadows and several neat farmhouses scat- 
 tered here and there. It exactly answers my idea 
 of a fine country, because it unites beauty with 
 utility, — and I dare say it is a picturesque one too, 
 because you admire it. I can easily believe it to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 143 
 
 be full of rocks and promontories, gray moss and 
 brushwood; but these are all lost on me. I know 
 nothing of the picturesque.'^ 
 
 ^^I am afraid it is but too true/' said Marianne; 
 ^^but why should you boast of it?'' 
 
 '^I suspect/' said Elinor, ^'that to avoid one 
 kind of affectation, Edward here falls into another. 
 Because he believes many people pretend to more 
 admiration of the beauties of nature than they 
 really feel, and is disgusted with such pretensions, 
 he affects great indifference and less discrimination 
 in viewing them himself than he possesses. He is 
 fastidious, and will have an affectation of his own." 
 
 ^^It is very true," said Marianne, ''that admi- 
 ration of landscape scenery has become a mere 
 jargon. Everybody pretends to feel and tries to 
 describe with the taste and elegance of him who 
 first defined what picturesque beauty was. I detest 
 jargon of every kind; and sometimes I have kept 
 my feelings to myself, because I could find no lan- 
 guage to describe them in but what was worn and 
 hackneyed out of all sense and meaning." 
 
 ''I am convinced," said Edward, ''that you 
 really feel all the delight in a fine prospect which 
 you profess to feel. But, in return, your sister 
 must allow me to feel no more than I profess. I 
 like a fine prospect, but not on picturesque princi- 
 ples. I do not like crooked, twisted, blasted trees. 
 I admire them much more if they are tall, straight, 
 
144 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 and flourishing. I do not like ruined, tattered 
 cottages. I am not fond of nettles or thistles, or 
 heath blossoms. I have more pleasure in a snug 
 farmhouse than a watch-tower, — and a troop of 
 tidy, happy villagers please me better than the 
 finest banditti in the world. 
 
 Marianne looked with amazement at Edward, 
 with compassion at her sister. Elinor only 
 laughed. 
 
 The subject was continued no further; and Ma- 
 rianne remained thoughtfully silent, till a new 
 object suddenly engaged her attention. She was 
 sitting by Edward, and, in taking his tea from 
 Mrs. Dashwood, his hand passed so directly before 
 her as to make a ring, with a plait of hair in the 
 centre, very conspicuous on one of his fingers. 
 
 I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward," 
 she cried. Is that Fanny's hair? I remember 
 her promising to give you some. But I should 
 have thought her hair had been darker." 
 
 Marianne spoke inconsiderately what she really 
 fel!;, but when she saw how much she had pained 
 Edward, her own vexation at her want of thought 
 coula not be surpassed by his. He colored very 
 deeply, and, giving a momentary glanc3 at Elinor^ 
 replied: ^* Yes, it is my sister's hair. The setting 
 always casts a different shade on it, you know." 
 
 Elinor had met his eye, and looked conscious 
 likewise. That the hair was her own, she instan- 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 145 
 
 taneously felt as well satisfied as Marianne; the 
 only difference in their conclusions was, that what 
 Marianne considered as a free gift from hor sister, 
 Elinor was conscious must have been procured by 
 some theft, or contrivance unknown to herself. 
 She was not in a humor, however, to regard it as 
 an affront; and affecting to take no notice of what 
 passed, by instantly talking of something else, she 
 internally resolved henceforward to catch every 
 opportunity of eying the hair and of satisfying 
 herself, beyond all doubt, that it was exactly the 
 shade of her own. 
 
 Edward^s embarrassment lasted some time, and 
 it ended in an absence of mind still more settled. 
 He was particularly grave the whole morning. 
 Marianne severely censured herself for what she 
 had said; but her own forgiveness might have 
 been more speedy, had she known how little of- 
 fence it had given her sister. 
 
 Before the middle of the da}^ they were visited 
 by Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, who, having 
 heard of the arrival of a gentleman at the cottage, 
 came to take a survey of the guest. With the as- 
 sistance of his mother-in-law. Sir John was not 
 long in discovering that the name of Eerrars began 
 with an E. And this prepared a future mine of 
 raillery against the devoted Elinor, which nothing 
 but the newness of their acquaintance with Ed- 
 ward could have prevented from being immediately 
 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
146 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 sprung. But, as it was, she only learned from 
 some very significant looks, how far their penetra- 
 tion, founded on Margaret's instructions, extended. 
 
 Sir John never came to the Dashwoods without 
 either inviting them to dine at the Park the next 
 day, or to drink tea with them that evening. On 
 the present occasion, for the better entertainment 
 of their visitor, towards whose amusement he felt 
 himself bound to contribute, he wished to engage 
 them for both. 
 
 ^^You must drink tea with us to-night," said 
 he, ^^for we shall be quite alone; and to-morrow 
 you must absolutely dine with us, for we shall be 
 a large party." 
 
 Mrs. Jennings enforced the necessity. ^^And 
 who knows but you may raise a dance? " said she. 
 
 And that will tempt you, Miss Marianne." 
 
 ^^A dance?" cried Marianne. Impossible! 
 Who is to dance?" 
 
 ^^Who? Why, yourselves, and the Careys and 
 Whitakers, to be sure. What! you thought no- 
 body could dance because a certain person that 
 shall be nameless is gone! " 
 
 ^^I wish with all my soul," cried Sir John, 
 ^^that Willoughby were among us again." 
 
 This, and Marianne's blushing, gave new sus- 
 picions to Edward. And who is Willoughby? " 
 said he in a low voice to Miss Dashwood, by whom 
 he was sitting. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 147 
 
 She gave liim a brief reply. Marianne's coun- 
 tenance was more communicative. Edward saw 
 enough to comprehend, not only the meaning of 
 others, but such of Marianne's expressions as had 
 puzzled him before; and when their visitors left 
 them he went immediately round her, and said, in 
 a whisper: ^^I have been guessing. Shall I tell 
 you my guess? " 
 
 " What do you mean? '' 
 
 Shall I tell you? " 
 
 Certainly." 
 
 ^^Well, then; I guess that Mr. Willoughby 
 hunts." 
 
 Marianne was surprised and confused, yet she 
 could not help smiling at the quiet archness of his 
 manner, and, after a moment's silence, said, — 
 
 Oh, Edward! How can you? — But the time 
 will come, I hope — I am sure you will like him." 
 
 ^^I do not doubt it," replied he, rather aston- 
 ished at her earnestness and warmth; for had he 
 not imagined it to be a joke for the good of her 
 acquaintance in general, founded only on a some- 
 thing or a nothing between Mr. Willoughby and 
 herself, he would not have ventured to mention it. 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 Edward remained a week at the cottage; lie was 
 earnestly pressed by Mrs. Dasliwood to stay lon- 
 ger; but, as if he were bent only on self -morti- 
 fication, he seemed resolved to be gone when his 
 enjoyment among his friends was at the height. 
 His spirits during the last two or three days, 
 though still very unequal, were greatly improved ; 
 he grew more and more partial to the house and 
 environs, never spoke of going away without a 
 sigh, declared his time to be wholly disengaged, 
 even doubted to what place he should go when 
 he left them, — but still, go he must. ISTever had 
 any week passed so quickly, — he could hardly be- 
 lieve it to be gone. He said so repeatedly; other 
 things he said, too, which marked the turn of his 
 feelings, and gave the lie to his actions. He had 
 no pleasure at Norland, he detested being in town; 
 but either to ]!^orland or London he must go. He 
 valued their kindness beyond anything, and his 
 greatest happiness was in being with them; yet 
 he must leave them at the end of the week, in 
 spite of their wishes and his own, and without any 
 restraint on his time. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 149 
 
 Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this 
 way of acting to his mother's account; and it was 
 happy for her that he had a mother whose char- 
 acter was so imperfectly known to her as to be the 
 general excuse for everything strange on the part 
 of her son. Disappointed, however, and vexed as 
 she was, and sometimes displeased with his uncer- 
 tain behavior to herself, she was very well disposed 
 on the whole to regard his actions with all the 
 candid allowances and generous qualifications 
 which had been rather more painfully extorted 
 from her, for Willoughby's service, by her mother. 
 His want of spirits, of openness, and of consist- 
 ency were most usually attributed to his want of 
 independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. 
 Ferrars's dispositions and designs. The shortness 
 of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose in leav- 
 ing them, originated in the same fettered inclina- 
 tion, the same inevitable necessity of temporizing 
 with his mother. The old, well-established griev- 
 ance of duty against will, parent against child, 
 was the cause of all. She would have been glad to 
 know when these difficulties were to cease, this op- 
 position were to yield, — when Mrs. Ferrars would 
 be reformed, and her son be at liberty to be happy. 
 But from such vain wishes she was forced to turn 
 for comfort to the renewal of her confidence in Ed- 
 ward's affection, to the remembrance of every mark 
 of regard in look or word which fell from him while 
 
150 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 at Barton, and above all, to that flattering proof of 
 it which he constantly wore round his finger. 
 
 ''1 think, Edward/^ said Mrs. Dashwood, as 
 they were at breakfast the last morning, ^^you 
 would be a happier man if you had any profession 
 to engage your time and give an interest to your 
 plans and actions. Some inconvenience to your 
 friends, indeed, might result from it, — you would 
 not be able to give them so much of your time. 
 But," with a smile, ^^you would be materially 
 benefited in one particular at least, — you would 
 know where to go when you left them." 
 
 ^^I do assure you," he replied, ^Hhat I have 
 long thought on this point as you think now. It 
 has been, and is, and probably will always be a 
 heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no neces- 
 sary business to engage me, no profession to give 
 me employment or afford me anything like inde- 
 pendence. But unfortunately my own nicety and 
 the nicety of my friends have made me what I 
 am, — an idle, helpless being. We never could 
 agree in our choice of a profession. I always pre- 
 ferred the church, as I still do; but that was not 
 smart enough for my family. They recommended 
 the army: that was a great deal too smart for 
 me. The law was allowed to be genteel enough, 
 — many young men who had chambers in the 
 Temple made a very good appearance in the first 
 circles, and drove about town in very knowing 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 151 
 
 gigs; but I had no inclination for tlie law, even 
 in this less abstruse study of it, which my family 
 approved. As for the navy, it had fashion on its 
 side, but I was too old when the subject was first 
 started to enter it; and at length, as there was no 
 necessity for my having any profession at all, as I 
 might be as dashing and expensive without a red 
 coat on my back as with one, idleness was pro- 
 nounced on the whole to be the most advantageous 
 and honorable, and a young man of eighteen is 
 not in general so earnestly bent on being busy as 
 to resist the solicitations of his friends to do 
 nothing. I was therefore entered at Oxford, and 
 have been properly idle ever since. 
 
 ^^The consequence of which, I suppose, will 
 be," said Mrs. Dashwood, since leisure has not 
 promoted your own happiness, that your sons will 
 be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, 
 professions, and trades as Columella's." 
 
 They will be brought up, " said he, in a serious 
 accent, ^' to be as unlike myself as is possible, — ■ 
 in feeling, in action, in condition, in everything." 
 
 ^^Come, come; this is all an effusion of im- 
 mediate want of spirits, Edward. You are in a 
 melancholy humor, and fanc}^ that any one unlike 
 yourself mjjst be happy. But remember that the 
 pain of parting from friends will be felt by every- 
 body at times, whatever be their education or state. 
 Know your own happiness. You want nothing 
 
152 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 but patience ; or give it a more fascinating name, — 
 call it hope. Your mother will secure to you in 
 time that independence you are so anxious for; jt 
 is her duty, and it will, it must erelong, become 
 her happiness to prevent your whole youth from 
 being wasted in discontent. How much may not 
 a few months do? " 
 
 ^^I think,'' replied Edward, ^^that I may defj'' 
 many months to produce any good to me." 
 
 This desponding turn of mind, though it could 
 not be communicated to Mrs. Dashwood, gave ad- 
 ditional pain to them all in the parting, which 
 shortly took place, and left an uncomfortable im- 
 pression on Elinor's feelings especially, which 
 required some trouble and time to subdue. But 
 as it was her determination to subdue it, and to 
 prevent herself from appearing to suffer more than 
 what all her family suffered on his going away, 
 she did not adopt the method so judiciously em- 
 ployed by Marianne, on a similar occasion, to aug- 
 ment and fix her sorrow, by seeking silence, 
 solitude, and idleness. Their means were as dif- 
 ferent as their objects, and equally suited to the 
 advancement of each. 
 
 Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as 
 he was out of the house, busily employed herself 
 the whole day, neither sought nor avoided the 
 mention of his name, appeared to interest herself 
 almost as much as ever in the general concerns of 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 153 
 
 the family; and if by this conduct she did not 
 lessen her own grief, it was at least prevented from 
 unnecessary increase, and her mother and sisters 
 were spared much solicitude on her account. 
 
 Such behavior as this, so exactly the reverse of 
 her own, appeared no more meritorious to Mari- 
 anne than her own had seemed faulty to her. 
 The business of self-command she settled very 
 easily, — with strong affections it was impossible, 
 with calm ones it could have no merit. That her 
 sister's affections were calm, she dared not deny, 
 though she blushed to acknowledge it; and of the 
 strength of her own she gave a very striking 
 proof, by still loving and respecting that sister in 
 spite of this mortifying conviction. 
 
 "Without shutting herself up from her family, 
 or leaving the house in determined solitude to 
 avoid them, or lying awake the whole night to in- 
 dulge meditation, Elinor found every day afforded 
 her leisure enough to think of Edward and of 
 Edward's behavior in every possible variety which 
 the different state of her spirits at different times 
 could produce, — with tenderness, pity, approba- 
 tion, censure, and doubt. There were moments in 
 abundance, when, if not by the absence of her 
 mother and sisters, at least by the nature of their 
 employments, conversation was forbidden among 
 them, and every effect of solitude was produced. 
 Her mind was inevitably at liberty; her thoughts 
 
154 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 could not be chained elsewhere; and the past and 
 the future, on a subject so interesting, must be 
 before her, must force her attention, and engross 
 her memory, her reflection, and her fancy. 
 
 From a reverie of this kind, as she sat at her 
 drawing-table, she was roused one morning, soon 
 after Edward's leaving them, by the arrival of 
 company. She happened to be quite alone. The 
 closing of the little gate at the entrance of the 
 green court in front of the house drew her eyes to 
 the window, and she saw a large party walking up 
 to the door. Amongst them were Sir John and 
 Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings; but there 
 w^ere two others, a gentleman and lady, who were 
 quite unknown to her. She was sitting near the 
 window; and as soon as Sir John perceived her, 
 he left the rest of the party to the ceremony of 
 knocking at the door, and stepping across the 
 turf, obliged her to open the casement to speak 
 to him, though the space was so short between 
 the door and the window as to make it hardly 
 possible to speak at one without being heard at 
 the other. 
 
 ^^Well,^^ said he, ^^we have brought you some 
 strangers. How do you Irl^e them? 
 
 ^^Hush! they will hear yon.'^ 
 Never mind if they do. It is only the 
 Palmers. Charlotte is very pretty, I can tell you. 
 You may see her if you look this way.'' 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 155 
 
 As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple 
 of minutes without taking that liberty, she begged 
 to be excused. 
 
 Where is Marianne? Has she run away be- 
 cause we are come? I see her instrument is 
 open.'' 
 
 She is walking, I believe.'' 
 
 They were now joined by Mrs. Jennings, who 
 had not patience enough to wait till the door was 
 opened before she told her story. She came hal- 
 looing to the window: " Plow do you do, my dear? 
 How does Mrs. Dashwood do? And where are 
 your sisters? What! all alone? you will be glad 
 of a little company to sit with you. I have 
 brought my other son and daughter to see you. 
 Only think of their coming so suddenly! I 
 thought I heard a carriage last night, while we 
 were drinking our tea, but it never entered my 
 head tliat it could be them. I thought of nothing 
 but whether it might not be Colonel Brandon come 
 back again; so I said to Sir John, do think I 
 hear a carriage; perhaps it is Colonel Brandon 
 come back again — ' " 
 
 Elinor was obliged to turn from her, in the 
 middle of her story, to receive the rest of the 
 party. Lady Middleton introduced the two stran- 
 gers; Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came down- 
 stairs at the same time, and they all sat down to 
 look at one another, while Mrs. Jennings contin- 
 
156 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ued her story as she walked through the passage 
 into the parlor attended by Sir John. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer was several years younger than 
 Lady Middleton, and totally unlike her in every 
 respect. She was short and plump, had a very 
 pretty face, and the finest expression of good- 
 humor in it that could possibly be. Her man- 
 ners were by no means so elegant as her sister's, 
 but they were much more prepossessing. She 
 came in with a smile, smiled all the time of her 
 visit, except when she laughed, and smiled when 
 she went away. Her husband was a grave-look- 
 ing young man of five or six and twenty, with an 
 air of more fashion and sense than his wife, but 
 of less willingness to please or be pleased. He 
 entered the room with a look of self-consequence, 
 slightly bowed to the ladies, without speaking a 
 word, and, after briefly surveying them and their 
 apartments, took up a newspaper from the table, 
 and continued to read it as long as he stayed. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer, on the contrary, who was strongly 
 endowed by nature with a turn for being uniformly 
 civil and happy, was hardly seated before her ad- 
 miration of the parlor and everything in it burst 
 forth. 
 
 " Well! what a delightful room this is! I never 
 saw anything so charming! Only think, mamma, 
 how it is improved since I was here last ! I always 
 thought it such a sweet place, ma'am,'' turning to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 157 
 
 Mrs. Dasliwood, ^^but you have made it so charm- 
 ing! Only look, sister, how delightful everything 
 is ! How I should like such a house for myself ! 
 Should not you, Mr. Palmer? 
 
 Mr. Palmer made her no answer, and did not 
 even raise his eyes from the newspaper. 
 
 Mr. Palmer does not hear me, said she, 
 laughing; " he never does sometimes. It is so 
 ridiculous! " 
 
 This was quite a new idea to Mrs. Dashwood; 
 she had never been used to find wit in the inatten- 
 tion of any one, and could not help looking with 
 surprise at them both. 
 
 Mrs. Jennings in the mean time talked on as 
 loud as she could, and continued her account of 
 their surprise, the evening before, on seeing their 
 friends, without ceasing till everything was told. 
 Mrs. Palmer laughed heartily at the recollection 
 of their astonishment, and everybody agreed, two 
 or three times over, that it had been quite an 
 agreeable surprise. 
 
 ^^You may believe how glad we all were to 
 see them," added Mrs. Jennings, leaning forward 
 towards Elinor, and speaking in a low voice as if 
 she meant to be heard by no one else, though they 
 were seated on different sides of the room; ^^but, 
 however, I can't help wishing they had not trav- 
 elled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of 
 it, for they came all round by London upon account 
 
158 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 of some business, for you know," nodding signifi- 
 cantly and pointing to her daughter, it was wrong 
 in her situation. I wanted her to stay at home 
 and rest this morning, but she would come with 
 us; she longed so much to see you all! 
 
 Mrs. Palmer laughed, and said it would not do 
 her any harm. 
 
 She expects to be confined in February," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Jennings. 
 
 Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a 
 conversation, and therefore exerted herself to ask 
 Mr. Palmer if there was any news in the paper. 
 
 ^''No, none at all," he replied, and read on. 
 Here comes Marianne," cried Sir John. 
 '''Now J Palmer, you shall see a monstrous pretty 
 girl." 
 
 He immediately went into the passage, opened 
 the front door, and ushered her in himself. Mrs. 
 Jennings asked her, as soon as she appeared, if 
 she had not been to Allenham; and Mrs. Palmer 
 laughed so heartily at the question as to show she 
 understood it. Mr. Palmer looked up on her en- 
 tering the room, stared at her some minutes, and 
 then returned to his newspaper. Mrs. Palmer's 
 eye was now caught by the drawings which hung 
 round the room. She got up to examine them. 
 
 " Oh dear, how beautiful these are! Well, how 
 delightful! Do but look, mamma, how sweet! I 
 declare they are quite charming; I could look at 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 159 
 
 tliem forever.^' And then sitting down again, she 
 very soon forgot that there were any such things 
 in the room. 
 
 When Lady Middleton rose to go away, Mr. 
 Palmer rose also, laid down the newspaper, 
 stretched himself, and looked at them all around. 
 
 ^^My love, have you been asleep?'^ said his 
 wife, Iciughing. 
 
 He made her no answer; and only observed, 
 after again examining the room, that it was very 
 low-pitclied, and that the ceiling was crooked. 
 He then made his bow, and departed with the 
 rest. 
 
 Sir John had been very urgent with them all to 
 spend the next day at the Park. Mrs. Dashwood, 
 who did not choose to dine with them oftener than 
 they dined at the cottage, absolutely refused on 
 her own account; her daughters might do as they 
 pleased. But they had no curiosity to see how Mr. 
 and Mrs. Palmer ate their dinner, and no expec- 
 tation of pleasure from them in any other way. 
 They attempted, therefore, likewise to excuse them- 
 selves ; the weather was uncertain, and not likely 
 to be good. But Sir John would not be satisfied, 
 — the carriage should be sent for them, and they 
 must come. Lady Middleton too, though she did 
 not press their mother, pressed them. Mrs. Jen- 
 nings and Mrs. Palmer joined their entreaties^ — 
 
160 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 all seemed equally anxious to avoid a family part}^ ; 
 and the young ladies were obliged to yield. 
 
 Why should they ask us? " said Marianne^ as 
 soon as they were gone. ^^The rent of this cot- 
 tage is said to be low; but we have had it on very 
 hard terms, if we are to dine at the Park whenever 
 any one is staying either with them or with us." 
 
 ^^They mean no less to be civil and kind to us 
 now/' said Elinor, ^^by these frequent invitations 
 than by those which we received from them a few 
 weeks ago. The alteration is not in them, if their 
 parties are grown tedious and dull. We must look 
 for the change elsewhere." 
 
CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 As the Miss Dasliwoods entered the drawing-room 
 of the Park the next day at one door, Mrs. Palmer 
 came running in at the other, looking as good- 
 humored and merry as before. She took them all 
 most affectionately by the hand, and expressed 
 great delight in seeing them again. 
 
 ^^I am so glad to see you! " said she, seating 
 herself between Elinor and Marianne; for it is 
 so bad a day I was afraid you might not come, 
 which would be a shocking thing, as we go away 
 again to-morrow. We must go, for the Westons 
 come to us next week, you know. It was quite a 
 sudden thing our coming at all; and I knew noth- 
 ing of it till the carriage was coming to the door, 
 and then Mr. Palmer asked me if I would go with 
 him to Barton. He is so droll! He never tells 
 me anything ! I am so sorry we cannot stay longer ; 
 however, we shall meet again in town very soon, I 
 hope." 
 
 The}^ were obliged to put an end to such an 
 expectation. 
 
 ^^Not go to town! cried Mrs. Palmer, with a 
 laugh; ''I shall be quite disappointed if you do 
 
 VOL. I. — 11 
 
162 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 not. I could get the nicest house in the world for 
 you, next door to ours in Hanover Square. You 
 must come, indeed. I am sure I shall be very 
 happy to chaperon you at any time till I am con- 
 fined, if Mrs. Dashwood should not like to go into 
 public.'^ 
 
 They thanked her, but were obliged to resist all 
 her entreaties. 
 
 ^^Oh, my love," cried Mrs. Palmer to her hus- 
 band, who just then entered the room, ^^you must 
 help me to persuade the Miss Dashwoods to go to 
 town this winter.'' 
 
 Her love made no answer; and after slightly 
 bowing to the ladies, began complaining of the 
 weather. 
 
 ^^How horrid all this is!" said he. Such- 
 weather makes everything and everybody disgust- 
 ing. Dulness is as much produced within doors 
 as without by rain. It makes one detest all one's 
 acquaintance. What the devil does Sir John mean 
 by not having a billiard-room in his house? Hoav 
 few people know what comfort is! Sir John is as 
 stupid as the weather." 
 
 The rest of the company soon dropped in. 
 
 ^^I am afraid. Miss Marianne," said Sir John, 
 ^^you have not been able to take your usual walk 
 to AUenham to-day." 
 
 Marianne looked very grave, and said nothing. 
 
 ^^Oh, don't be so sly before us," said Mrs. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 163 
 
 Palmer; ^^for we know all about it, I assure you; 
 and I admire your taste very much, for I think he 
 is extremely handsome. We do not live a great 
 way from him in the country^ you know. Not 
 aDove ten miles, I dare say." 
 
 ' ^ Much nearer thirty, ' ' said her husband. 
 
 *^Ah, well! there is not much difference. I 
 never was at his house; but they say it is a sweet 
 pretty place.'' 
 
 As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life," said 
 Mr. Palmer. 
 
 Marianne remained perfectly silent, though her 
 countenance betrayed her interest in what was 
 said. 
 
 ^^Is it very ugly?" continued Mrs. Palmer; 
 ^^then it must be some other place that is so 
 pretty, I suppose." 
 
 When they were seated in the dining-room. Sir 
 John observed with regret that they were only 
 eight altogether. 
 
 ^^My dear," said he to his lady, ^^it is 
 very provoking that we should be so few. Why 
 did not you ask the Gilberts to come to us to- 
 day? " 
 
 ^^Did not I tell you, Sir John, when you spoke 
 to me about it before, that it could not be done? 
 They dined with us last." 
 
 ^^You and I, Sir John," said Mrs. Jennings, 
 should not stand upon such ceremony." 
 
164 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ^^Then you would be very ill-bred/' cried Mr. 
 Palmer. 
 
 My love, you contradict everybody," said his 
 wife, with her usual laugh. ' ' Do you know that 
 you are quite rude? " 
 
 ^^I did not know I contradicted anybody in 
 calling your mother ill-bred." 
 
 ^^Ay, you may abuse me as you please," said 
 the good-natured old lady : ' ' you have taken 
 Charlotte off my hands, and cannot give her back 
 again; so there I have the whip hand of you." 
 
 Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her 
 husband could not get rid of her; and exultingly 
 said she did not care how cross he was to her, 
 as they must live together. It was impossible for 
 any one to be more thoroughly good-natured or 
 more determined to be happy than Mrs. Palmer. 
 The studied indifference, insolence, and discontent 
 of her husband gave her no pain; and when he 
 scolded or abused her, she was highly diverted. 
 
 " Mr. Palmer is so droll ! " said she, in a whisper 
 to Elinor. He is always out of humor." 
 
 Elinor was not inclined, after a little obser- 
 vation, to give him credit for being so genuinely 
 and unaffectedly ill-natured or ill-bred as he 
 wished to appear. His temper might perhaps be 
 a little soured by finding, like many others of his 
 sex, that through some unaccountable bias in favor 
 of beauty, he was the husband of a very silly 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 165 
 
 woman; but she knew that this kind of blunder 
 was too common for any sensible man to be 
 lastingly hurt by it. It was rather a wish of 
 distinction, she believed, which produced his con- 
 temptuous treatment of everybod}^, and his general 
 abuse of everything before him. It was the de- 
 sire of appearing superior to other people. The 
 motive was too common to be wondered at; but 
 the means, however they might succeed by estab- 
 lishing his superiority in ill-breeding, were not 
 likely to attach any one to him except his wife. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Miss Dashwood,^' said Mrs. 
 Palmer, soon afterwards, " I have gor such a favor 
 to ask of you and your sister! Will you come and 
 spend some time at Cleveland this Christmas? 
 ]^ow, pray do, — and come while the Westons are 
 with us. You cannot think how happy I shall 
 be! It will be quite delightful! My love,'' 
 applying to her husband, don't you long to 
 have the Miss Dashwoods come to Cleveland?" 
 
 Certainly," he replied, with a sneer; ^^I 
 came into Devonshire with no other view." 
 
 There now," said his lady, ^^you see Mr. 
 Palmer expects you; so you cannot refuse to come." 
 
 They both eagerly and resolutely declined her 
 invitation. 
 
 ^^But indeed you must and shall come. I am 
 sure you will like it of all things. The Westons 
 will be with us, and it will be quite delightful. 
 
166 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is ; 
 and we are so gay now, for Mr. Palmer is always 
 going about the country canvassing against the 
 election, and so many people come to dine with 
 us that I never saw before; it is quite charming! 
 But, poor fellow! it is very fatiguing to him, for 
 he is forced to make everybody like him.'' 
 
 Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she 
 assented to the hardship of such an obligation. 
 
 How charming it will be,'' said Charlotte, 
 ^^when he is in Parliament, won't it? How I 
 shall laugh! It will be so ridiculous to see all his 
 letters directed to him with an M. P. But do you 
 know, he says he will never frank for me? He 
 declares he won't; don't you, Mr. Palmer? 'V 
 
 Mr. Palmer took no notice of her. 
 
 ^^He cannot bear writing, you know," she con- 
 tinued; ^^he says it is quite shocking." 
 
 ^^No, " said he, ^^I never said anything so 
 irrational. Don't palm all your abuses of lan- 
 guage upon me." 
 
 There now, you see how droll he is. This is 
 always the way with him! Sometimes he won't 
 speak to me for half a day together, and then he 
 comes out with something so droll, — all about 
 anything in the world." 
 
 She surprised Elinor very much, as they re- 
 turned into the drawing-room, by asking her 
 whether she did not like Mr. Palmer excessively. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 167 
 
 Certainly, " said Elinor; ^^he seems very 
 agreeable.'' 
 
 ^^Well, I am so glad you do. I thought you 
 would, he is so pleasant; and Mr. Palmer is ex- 
 cessively pleased with you and your sisters, I can 
 tell you; and you can't think how disappointed he 
 will be if you don't come to Cleveland. I can't 
 imagine why you should object to it." 
 
 Elinor was again obliged to decline her invi- 
 tation, and by changing the subject, put a stop 
 to her entreaties. She thought it probable that as 
 they lived in the same county Mrs. Palmer might 
 be able to give some more particular account of 
 Willoughby's general character than could be gatli* 
 ered from the Middletons' partial acquaintance 
 with him; and she was eager to gain from any one 
 such a confirmation of his merits as might remove 
 the possibility of fear from Marianne. She began 
 by inquiring if they saw much of Mr. Willoughby 
 at Cleveland, and whether they were intimately 
 acquainted with him. 
 
 Oh dear, yes; I know him extremely well," 
 replied Mrs. Palmer, — " not that I ever spoke to 
 him, indeed, but I have seen him forever in town. 
 Somehow or other I never happened to be staying 
 at Barton while he was at Allenham; mamma saw 
 him here once before, but I was with my uncle at 
 Weymouth. However, I dare say we should have 
 seen a great deal of him in Somersetshire if it had 
 
 4t 
 
168 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 not happened very unluckily that we should never 
 have been in the country together. He is very 
 little at Combe, I believe; but if he were ever so 
 much there, I do not think Mr. Palmer would visit 
 him, for he is in the opposition, you know; and 
 besides it is such a way off. I know why you 
 .hiquire about him very well, — your sister is to 
 marry him. I am monstrous glad of it, for then I 
 shall have her for a neighbor, you know.'' 
 
 ^ ^ Upon my word, ' ' replied Elinor, ^^you know 
 much more of the matter than I do, if you have 
 any reason to expect such a match." 
 
 " Don't pretend to deny it, because you know it 
 is what everybody talks of. I assure you I heard 
 of it in my way through town." 
 
 ^^My dear Mrs. Palmer! " 
 
 '^Upon my honor I did. I met Colonel Bran- 
 don Monday morning in Bond Street, just before 
 we left town, and he told me of it directly." 
 
 ^^You surprise me very much. Colonel Bran- 
 don tell you of it? Surely you must be mistaken. 
 To give such intelligence to a person who could 
 not be interested in it, even if it were true, is not 
 what I should expect Colonel Brandon to do." 
 
 ^^But I do assure you it was so, for all that; 
 and I will tell you how it happened. When we 
 met him, he turned back and walked with us ; and 
 so we began talking of my brother and sister, 
 and one thing and another, and I said to him: 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 169 
 
 ^ So, Colonel, there is a new family come to 
 Barton Cottage, I hear; and mamma sends me word 
 they are very pretty, and that one of them is go- 
 ing to be married to Mr. Willoughby of Combe 
 Magna. Is it true, pray? for of course you must 
 know, as you have been in Devonshire so lately.' 
 " And what did the Colonel say? 
 
 Oh, he did not say much, but he looked as if 
 he knew it to be true; so from that moment I set 
 it down as certain. It will be quite delightful, I 
 declare. When is it to take place?'' 
 
 Mr. Brandon was very well, I hope? " 
 
 Oh, yes, quite well; and so full of your 
 praises, he did nothing but say fine things of 
 you." 
 
 ^^I am flattered by his commendation. He 
 seems an excellent man, and I think him uncom- 
 monly pleasing." 
 
 So do I. He is such a charming man that it 
 is quite a pity he should be so grave and so dull. 
 Mamma says he was in love with your sister too. 
 I assure you it was a great compliment if he was, 
 for he hardly ever falls in love with anybody." 
 
 ^^Is Mr. Willoughby much known in your part 
 of Somersetshire? " said Elinor. 
 
 ^^Oh, yes, extremely well; that is, I do not 
 believe many people are acquainted with him, be- 
 cause Combe Magna is so far off, but they all 
 think him extremely agreeable^ I assure you. No- 
 
170 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 body is more liked than Mr. Willougliby, wher- 
 ever he goes; and so you may tell your sister. 
 She is a monstrous lucky girl to get him, upon my 
 honor; not but that he is much more lucky in 
 getting her, because she is so very handsome and 
 agreeable that nothing can be good enough for her. 
 However, I don't think her hardly at all hand- 
 somer than you, I assure you; for I think you 
 both excessively pretty, and so does Mr. Palmer 
 too, I am sure, though we could not get him to 
 own it last night." 
 
 Mrs. Palmer's information respecting Wil- 
 loughby was not very material; but any testimony 
 in his favor, however small, was pleasing to her. 
 
 ^^lamso glad we are got acquainted at last/' 
 continued Charlotte, ^^and now I hope we shall 
 always be great friends. You can't think how 
 much I longed to see you. It is so delightful that 
 yon should live at the cottage ; nothing can be like 
 it, to be sure. And I am so glad your sister is 
 going to be well married. I hope you will be a 
 great deal at Combe Magna; it is a sweet place, 
 by all accounts." 
 
 You have been long acquainted with Colonel 
 Brandon, have not you? " 
 
 Yes, a great while ; ever since my sister mar- 
 ried. He was a particular friend of Sir John's. I 
 believe," she added, in a low voice, ^^he would 
 "have been very glad to have had me, if he could. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 171 
 
 Sir John and Lady Middleton wished it very 
 much; but mamma did not think the match good 
 enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have 
 mentioned it to the Colonel, and we should have 
 been married immediately.'' 
 
 ^^Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's 
 proposal to your mother before it was made ? Had 
 he never owned his affection to yourself? " 
 
 Oh, no; but if mamma had not objected to it, 
 I dare say he would have liked it of all things. 
 He had not seen me then above twice, for it was 
 before I left school. However, I am much hap- 
 pier as I am. Mr. Palmer is just the kind of man 
 I like." 
 
CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, 
 and the two families at Barton were again left to 
 entertain each other. But this did not last long; 
 Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her 
 head, — had hardly done wondering at Charlotte's 
 being so happy without a cause, at Mr. Palmer's 
 acting so simply, with good abilities, and at the 
 strange unsuitableness which often existed be- 
 tween husband and wife, — before Sir John's and 
 Mrs. Jennings's active zeal in the cause of society 
 procured her some other new acquaintance to see 
 and observe. 
 
 In a morning's excursion to Exeter they had 
 met with two young ladies whom Mrs. Jennings 
 had the satisfaction of discovering to be her rela- 
 tions, and this was enough for Sir John to invite 
 them directly to the Park as soon as their present 
 engagements at Exeter were over. Their engage- 
 ments at Exeter instantly gave way before such an 
 invitation; and Lady Middleton was thrown into 
 no little alarm, on the return of Sir John, by 
 hearing that she was very soon to receive a visit 
 from two girls whom she had never seen in her 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 173 
 
 life, and of whose elegance — whose tolerable gen- 
 tility even — she could have no proof, for the 
 assurances of her husband and mother on that sub- 
 ject went for nothing at all. Their being her 
 relations, too, made it so much the worse; and 
 Mrs. Jennings^s attempts at consolation were, 
 therefore, unfortunately founded when she advised 
 her daughter not to care about their being so 
 fashionable, because they were all cousins, and 
 must put up with one another. As it was impossi- 
 ble, however, now to prevent their coming. Lady 
 Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it with 
 all the philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting 
 herself with merely giving her husband a gentle 
 reprimand on the subject five or six times every 
 day. 
 
 The young ladies arrived. Their appearance 
 was by no means un genteel or unfashionable; their 
 dress was very smart, their manners very civil. 
 They were delighted with the house, and in rap- 
 tures with the furniture; and they happened to be 
 so doatingly fond of children that Lady Middle- 
 ton's good opinion was engaged in their favor 
 before they had been an hoar at the Park. She 
 declared them to be very agreeable girls indeed, 
 which, for her Ladyship, was enthusiastic admira- 
 tion. Sir John's confidence in his own judgment 
 rose with this animated praise, and he set off 
 directly for the cottage, to tell the Miss Dash- 
 
174 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 woods of the Miss Steeles' arrival^ and to assure 
 tliem of their being the sweetest girls in the world. 
 From such commendation as this, however, there 
 was not much to be learned: Elinor well knew 
 that the sweetest girls in the world were to be met 
 with in every part of England, under every pos- 
 sible variation of form, face, temper, and under- 
 standing. Sir John wanted the whole family to 
 walk to the Park directly, and look at his guests. 
 Benevolent, philanthropic man! It was painful 
 to him even to keep a third cousin to himself. 
 
 " Do come now," said he; ^^pray come, — you 
 must come, — I declare you shall come. You can't 
 think how you will like them. Lucy is monstrous 
 pretty, and so good-humored and agreeable! The 
 children are all hanging about her already, as if 
 she was an old acquaintance. And they both long 
 to see you, of all things; for they have heard at 
 Exeter that you are the most beautiful creatures in 
 the world, and I have told them it is all very true, 
 and a great deal more. You will be delighted 
 with them, I am sure. They have brought the 
 whole coach full of playthings for the children. 
 How can you be so cross as not to come ? Why, 
 they are your cousins, you know, after a fashion. 
 You are my cousins, and they are my wife's; so 
 you must be related." 
 
 But Sir John could not prevail ; he could only 
 obtain a promise of their calling at the Park 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 175 
 
 within a day or two, and then left them, in amaze- 
 ment at their indifference, to walk home and boast 
 anew of their attractions to the Miss Steeles, as he 
 had been already boasting of the Miss Steeles to 
 them. 
 
 When their promised visit to the Park and con- 
 sequent introduction to these young ladies took 
 place, they found in the appearance of the eldest, 
 who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a 
 sensible face, nothing to admire ; but in the other, 
 who was not more than two or three and twenty, 
 they acknowledged considerable beauty. Her fea- 
 tures were pretty, and she had a sharp, quick eye, 
 and a smartness of air, which, though it did not 
 give actual elegance or grace, gave distinction to 
 her person. Their manners were particularly civil, 
 and Elinor soon allowed them credit for some kind 
 of sense when she saw with what constant and 
 judicious attentions they were making themselves 
 agreeable to Lady Middleton. With her children 
 they were in continual raptures, extolling their 
 beauty, courting their notice, and humoring all 
 their whims; and such of their time as could be 
 spared from the importunate demands which this 
 politeness made on it was spent in admiration of 
 whatever her Ladyship was doing, if she happened 
 to be doing anything, or in taking patterns of 
 some elegant new dress, in which her appearance 
 the day before had thrown them into unceasing 
 
176 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 deli gilt. Fortunately for those who pay their 
 court through such foibles, a fond mother, though 
 in pursuit of praise for her children, the most 
 rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most 
 credulous; her demands are exorbitant, but she 
 will swallow anything; and the excessive affection 
 and endurance of the Miss Steel es towards her off- 
 spring were viewed, therefore, by Lady Middleton 
 without the smallest surprise or distrust. She saw 
 with maternal complacency all the impertinent 
 encroachments and mischievous tricks to which 
 her cousins submitted. She saw their sashes un- 
 tied, their hair pulled about their ears, their work- 
 bags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen 
 awa}^, and felt no doubt of its being a reciprocal 
 enjoyment. It suggested no other surprise than 
 that Elinor and Marianne should sit so compos- 
 edly by, without claiming a share in what was 
 passing. 
 
 ^^John is in such spirits to-day!'' said she, 
 on his taking Miss Steele's pocket-handkerchief 
 and throwing it out of window, — ^^he is full of 
 monkey-tricks." 
 
 And soon afterwards, on the second boy's vio- 
 lently pinching one of the same lady's fingers, she 
 fondly observed, ^^How playful William is! " 
 
 ^^And here is my sweet little Anna-maria," she 
 added, tenderly caressing a little girl of three years 
 old, who had not made a noise for the last two 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 177 
 
 minutes; and she is always so gentle and quiet. 
 Never was there such a quiet little thing! " 
 
 But unfortunately, in bestowing these embraces 
 a pin in her Ladyship's head-dress slightly scratch- 
 ing the child's neck, produced from this pattern of 
 gentleness such violent screams as could hardly be 
 outdone by any creature professedly noisy. The 
 mother's consternation was excessive, but it could 
 not surpass the alarm of the Miss Steeles; and 
 everything was done by all three, in so critical an 
 emergency, which affection could suggest as likely 
 to assuage the agonies of the little sufferer. She 
 was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, 
 her wound bathed with lavender-water by one of 
 the Miss Steeles, who was on her knees to attend 
 her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar-plums by 
 the other. With such a reward for her tears, the 
 child was too wise to cease crying. She still 
 screamed and sobbed lustily, kicked her two 
 brothers for offering to touch her; and all their 
 united soothings were ineffectual, till Lady Mid- 
 dleton luckily remembering that in a scene of 
 similar distress last week some apricot marmalade 
 had been successfully applied for a bruised temple, 
 the same remedy was eagerly proposed for this 
 unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of 
 screams in the young lady on hearing it gave 
 them reason to hope that it would not be rejected. 
 She was carried out of the room, therefore, in her 
 
 VOL. I. — 12 
 
178 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 mother's arms, in quest of this medicine; and as 
 the two boys chose to follow, though earnestly en- 
 treated by their mother to stay behind, the four 
 young ladies were left in a quietness which the 
 room had not known for many hours. 
 
 ^^Poor little creature! '' said Miss Steele, as soon 
 as they were gone; ^^it might have been a very 
 sad accident." 
 
 Yet I hardly know how,'' cried Marianne, 
 
 unless it had been under totally different cir- 
 cumstances. But this is the usual way of height- 
 ening alarm, where there is nothing to be alarmed 
 at in reality," 
 
 ^^What a sweet woman Lady Middleton is!" 
 said Lucy Steele. 
 
 Marianne was silent. It was impossible for her 
 to say what she did not feel, however trivial the 
 occasion; and upon Elinor, therefore, the whole 
 task of telling lies, when politeness required it, 
 always fell. She did her best when thus called 
 on, by speaking of Lady Middleton with more 
 warmth than she felt, though with, far less than 
 Miss Lucy. 
 
 ^^And Sir John, too," cried the elder sister, 
 ^^what a charming man he is! " 
 
 Here, too. Miss Dashwood's commendation, being 
 only simple and just, came in without any eclat. 
 She merely observed that he was perfectly good- 
 humored and friendly. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 179 
 
 And what a charming little family they have! 
 I never saw such fine children in my life. I de- 
 clare I quite doat upon them already; and, indeed, 
 I am always distractedly fond of children.'^ 
 
 '^1 should guess so/^ said Elinor, with a smile, 
 ^^from what I have witnessed this morning." 
 
 ^^I have a notion/' said Lucy, ^^you think the 
 little Middletons rather too much indulged. Per- 
 haps they may be the outside of enough; but it is 
 so natural in Lady Middleton, and for my part I 
 love to see children full of life and spirits; I can- 
 not bear them if they are tame and quiet.'' 
 
 ^^I confess," replied Elinor, ^^that while T am 
 at Barton Park I never think of tame and quiet 
 children with any abhorrence." 
 
 A short pause succeeded this speech, which was 
 first broken by Miss Steele, who seemed very much 
 disposed for conversation, and who now said rather 
 abruptly : And how do you like Devonshire, Miss 
 Dashwood? I suppose you were very sorry to leave 
 Sussex?" 
 
 In some surprise at the familiarity of this ques- 
 tion, or at least of the manner in which it was 
 spoken, Elinor replied that she was. 
 
 Norland is a prodigious beautiful place, is not 
 it? " added Miss Steele. 
 
 ^^We have heard Sir John admire it exces- 
 sively," said Lucy, who seemed to think some 
 apology necessary for the freedom of her sister. 
 
180 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ^^I think every one must admire it/' replied 
 Elinor, ^^who ever saw the place; though it is 
 not to be supposed that any one can estimate its 
 beauties as we do/' 
 
 ' ' And had you a great many smart beaux there ? 
 I suppose you have not so many in this part of the 
 world. For my part, I think they are a vast addi- 
 tion always." 
 
 ^^But why should you think/' said Lucy, looking 
 ashamed of her sister, ^^that there are not as many 
 genteel young men in Devonshire as Sussex? " 
 
 " Kay, my dear, I 'm sure I don't pretend to say 
 that there a'n't. I 'm sure there 's a vast many 
 smart beaux in Exeter; but you know, how could 
 I tell what smart beaux there might be about Nor- 
 land; and I was only afraid the Miss Dash woods 
 might find it dull at Barton, if they had not so 
 many as they used to have. But perhaps you 
 young ladies may not care about the beaux, and 
 had as lief be without them as with them. Eor 
 m}^ part, I think they are vastly agreeable, pro- 
 vided they dress smart and behave civil. But I 
 can't bear to see them dirty and nasty. Kow, 
 there 's Mr. Eose at Exeter, a prodigious smart 
 young man, quite a beau, clerk to Mr. Simpson, 
 you know, and yet if you do but meet him of a 
 morning, he is not fit to be seen. I suppose your 
 brother was quite a beau. Miss Dashwood, before 
 he married, as he was so rich? " 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 181 
 
 Upon my word/' replied Elinor, I cannot 
 tell you, . for I do not perfectly comprehend the 
 meaning of the word. But this I can say, that if 
 he ever was a beau before he married, he is one 
 still, for there is not the smallest alteration in 
 him.^' 
 
 Oh dear! one never thinks of married men's 
 being beaux, — they have something else to do." 
 
 ^^Lord! Anne,'' cried her sister, you can talk 
 of nothing but beaux; you will make Miss Dash- 
 wood believe you think of nothing else." And 
 then, to turn the discourse, she began admiring 
 the house and the furniture. 
 
 This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough. 
 The vulgar freedom and folly of the elder left her 
 no recommendation; and as Elinor was not blinded 
 by the beauty or the shrewd look of the younger, 
 to her want of real elegance and artlessness, she 
 left the house without any wish of knowing them 
 better. 
 
 Not so the Miss Steeles. They came from Exeter 
 well provided with admiration for the use of Sir 
 John Middleton, his family, and all his relations; 
 and no niggardly proportion was now dealt out to 
 his fair cousins, whom they declared to be the most 
 beautiful, elegant, accomplished, and agreeable girls 
 they had ever beheld, and with whom they were par- 
 ticularly anxious to be better acquainted. And to 
 be better acquainted, therefore, Elinor soon found 
 
182 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 was their inevitable lot; for as Sir John was en- 
 tirely on the side of the Miss Steeles, their party 
 would be too strong for opposition, and that kind 
 of intimacy must be submitted to, which consists 
 of sitting an hour or two together in the same room 
 almost every day. Sir John could do no more ; but 
 he did not know that any more was required : to be 
 together was, in his opinion, to be intimate; and 
 while his continual schemes for their meeting were 
 effectual, he had not a doubt of their being estab- 
 lished friends. 
 
 To do him justice, he did everything in his 
 power to promote their unreserve, by making the 
 Miss Steeles acquainted with whatever he knew or 
 supposed of his cousins' situations in the most 
 delicate particulars ; and Elinor had not seen them 
 more than twice, before the elder of them wished 
 her joy on her sister's having been so lucky as to 
 make a conquest of a very smart beau since she 
 came to Barton. 
 
 'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so 
 young, to be sure," said she; ^^and I hear he is 
 quite a beau, and prodigious handsome. And I 
 hope you may have as good luck yourself soon; 
 but, perhaps, you may have a friend in the corner 
 already." 
 
 Elinor could not suppose that Sir John would be 
 more nice in proclaiming his suspicions of her re- 
 gard for Edward, than he had been with respect to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 183 
 
 Marianne; indeed it was rather his favorite joke of 
 the two, as being somewhat newer and more con- 
 jectural; and since Edward's visit, they had never 
 dined together w^ithout his drinking to her best 
 affections with so much significancy and so many 
 nods and winks as to excite general attention. 
 The letter F had been likewise invariably brought 
 forward, and found productive of such countless 
 jokes that its character, as the wittiest letter in 
 the alphabet, had been long established with 
 Elinor. 
 
 The Miss Steeles, as she expected, had now all 
 the benefit of these jokes; and in the elder of 
 them they raised a curiosity to know the name of 
 the gentleman alluded to, which, though often 
 impertinently expressed, was perfectly of a piece 
 with her general inquisitiveness into the concerns 
 of their family. But Sir John did not sport long 
 with the curiosity which he delighted to raise, for 
 he had at least as much pleasure in telling the 
 name as Miss Steele had in hearing it. 
 
 ^^His name is Eerrars,'^ said he, in a very audi- 
 ble whisper; ^^but pray do not tell it, for it a 
 great secret.'' 
 
 ^^Eerrars!" repeated Miss Steele; ^^Mr. Eer- 
 rars is the happy man, is he? What! your sister- 
 in-law's brother. Miss Dashwood? A very agreea- 
 ble young man, to be sure; I know him very well." 
 
 ^^liow can you say so, Anne?" cried Lucy, 
 
184 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 who generally made an amendment to all lier 
 sister's assertions. Though we have seen him 
 once or twice at m}^ uncle's, it is rather too much 
 to pretend to know him very well." 
 
 Elinor heard all this with attention and sur- 
 prise. ^^And who was this uncle? Where did 
 he live? How came they acquainted?" She 
 wished very much to have the suhject continued, 
 though she did not choose to join in it herself; 
 but nothing more of it was said, and for the first 
 time in her life, she thought Mrs. Jennings defi- 
 cient either in curiosity after petty information 
 or in a disposition to communicate it. The man- 
 ner in which Miss Steele had spoken of Edward 
 increased her curiosity; for it struck her as being 
 rather ill-natured, and suggested the suspicioil of 
 that lady's knowing, or fancying herself to know, 
 something to his disadvantage. But her curiosity 
 was unavailing; for no further notice was taken 
 of Mr. Ferrars's name by Miss Steele when alluded 
 to, or even openly mentioned by Sir John. 
 
CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 Marianne, who had never much toleration for 
 anything like impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority 
 of parts, or even difference of taste from herself, 
 was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from the 
 state of her spirits^ to be pleased with the Miss 
 Steeles, or to encourage their advances; and to the 
 invariable coldness of her behavior towards them, 
 which checked every endeavor at intimacy on their 
 side, Elinor principally attributed that preference 
 of herself which soon became evident in the man- 
 ners of both, but especially of Lucy, who missed 
 no opportunit}^ of engaging her in conversation, 
 or of striving to improve their acquaintance by an 
 easy and frank communication of her sentiments. 
 
 Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were 
 often just and amusing, and as a companion for 
 half an hour Elinor frequently found her agree- 
 able; but her powers had received no aid from 
 education. She was ignorant and illiterate; and 
 her deficiency of all mental improvement, her want 
 of information in the most common particulars, 
 could not be concealed from Miss Dashwood, in 
 spite of her constant endeavor to appear to advan- 
 
186 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 tage. Elinor saw, and pitied her for the neglect 
 of abilities which education might have rendered 
 so respectable; but she saw, with less tenderness 
 of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy, of recti- 
 tude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, 
 her assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; 
 and she could have no lasting satisfaction in the 
 company of a person who joined insincerity with 
 ignorance, whose want of instruction prevented 
 their meeting in conversation on terms of equality, 
 and whose conduct towards others made every show 
 of attention and deference towards herself per- 
 fectly valueless. 
 
 ^^You will think my question an odd one, T 
 dare say," said Lucy to her one day, as they were 
 walking together from the Park to the cottage; 
 ^' but, pra^^, are you personally acquainted with 
 your sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars? 
 
 Elinor did think the question a very odd one; 
 and her countenance expressed it, as she answered 
 that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars. 
 
 ^^Indeed!" replied Lucy; ^^T wonder at that, 
 for I thought you must have seen her at Norland 
 sometimes. Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me 
 what sort of a woman she is?" 
 
 ^^No, " returned Elinor, cautious of giving her 
 real opinion of Edward's mother, and not very 
 desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent 
 curiosity; ^^I know nothing of her." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 187 
 
 ^^I am sure you think me very strange for inquir- 
 ing about her in such a way," said Lucy, eying 
 Elinor attentively as she spoke; but perhaps 
 there may be reasons — I wish I might venture; 
 but, however, I hope you will do me the justice of 
 believing that I do not mean to be impertinent." 
 
 Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked 
 on for a few minutes in silence. It was broken by 
 Lucy, who renewed the subject again by saying, 
 with some hesitation, — 
 
 ^^I cannot bear to have you think me imperti- 
 nently curious. I am sure I would rather do any- 
 thing in the world than be thought so by a person 
 whose good opinion is so well worth having as 
 yours. And I am sure I should not have the 
 smallest fear of trusting you; indeed, I should be 
 very glad of your advice how to manage in such 
 an uncomfortable situation as I am; but, how^ever, 
 there is no occasion to trouble yo2i. I am sorry 
 you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars." 
 
 ^^1 am sorry I do ^o^, " said Elinor, in great 
 astonishment, ^^if it could be of any use to you 
 to know my opinion of her. But really I never 
 understood that you were at all connected with 
 that family, and therefore I am a little surprised, 
 I confess, at so serious an inquiry into her 
 character." 
 
 ^^I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at 
 all wonder at it. But if I dared tell you all, you 
 
188 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 would not be so mucli surprised. Mrs. T^'errars is 
 certainly nothing to me at present; but the time 
 may come — how soon it will come must depend 
 upon herself — when we may be very intimately 
 connected. " 
 
 She looked down as she said this, amiably bash- 
 ful, with only one side glance at her companion to 
 observe its effect on her. 
 
 Good heavens ! " cried Elinor, ^^what do you 
 mean? Are you acquainted with Mr. Eobert Fer- 
 rars? Can you be? " And she did not feel much 
 delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law. 
 
 No," replied Lucy, ^^not to Mr. Robert Fer- 
 rars, — I never saw him in my life: but, fixing 
 her eyes upon Elinor, ^^to his elder brother." 
 
 What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonish- 
 ment, that would have been as painful as it was 
 strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the 
 assertion attended it. She turned towards Lucy 
 in silent amazement, unable to divine the reason or 
 object of such a declaration; and though her com- 
 plexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and 
 felt in no danger of an hysterical fit or a swoon. 
 
 You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; 
 ^^for, to be sure, you could have had no idea of it 
 before, for I dare say he never dropped the small- 
 est hint of it to you or any of your family; because 
 it was always meant to be a great secret, and I 
 am sure has been faithfully kept so by me to this 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 189 
 
 hour, Not a soul of all my relations know of it 
 but Anne, and I never should have mentioned it 
 to you, if I had not felt the greatest dependence 
 in the world upon your secrecy; and I really 
 thought my behavior in asking so many questions 
 about Mrs. Ferrars must seem so odd that it ought 
 to be explained. And I do not think Mr. Ferrars 
 can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted 
 you, because I know he has the highest opinion in 
 the world of all your family, and looks upon your- 
 self and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as his 
 own sisters.^' She paused. 
 
 Elinor for a few moments remained silent. Her 
 astonishment at what she heard was at first too 
 great for words; but at length forcing herself to 
 speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with a 
 calmness of manner which tolerably well concealed 
 heit surprise and solicitude, ^^May I ask if your 
 engagement is of long standing?" 
 
 We have been engaged these four years. 
 
 ^^Four years ! 
 
 ^^Yes." 
 
 Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable 
 to believe it. 
 
 ^^I did not know," said she, ^^that you were 
 even acquainted till the other day." 
 
 Our acquaintance, however, is of many years' 
 date. He was under my uncle's care, you know, a 
 considerable while." 
 
190 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Your uncle! " 
 
 ^^Yes; Mr. Pratt. Did you never hear him 
 talk of Mr. Pratt? 
 
 ^^I think I have/' replied Elinor, with an exer- 
 tion of spirits which increased with her increase 
 of emotion. 
 
 " He was four years with my uncle, who lives 
 at Longstaple, near Plymouth, It was there our 
 acquaintance hegun, for my sister and me was 
 often staying with my uncle, and it was there our 
 engagement was formed, though not till a year 
 after he had quitted as a pupil ; but he was almost 
 always with us afterwards. I was very unwilling 
 to enter into it, as you may imagine, without the 
 knowledge and approbation of his mother; but I 
 was too young, and loved him too well, to be so 
 prudent as I ought to have been. Though you do 
 not know him so well as me. Miss Dashwood, you 
 must have seen enough of him to be sensible he is 
 very capable of making a woman sincerely attached 
 to him.'^ 
 
 Certainly, answered Elinor, without know- 
 ing what she said; but after a moment's reflection, 
 she added, with revived security of Edward's honor 
 and love, and her companion's falsehood: En- 
 gaged to Mr. Edward Ferrars ! I confess myself so 
 totally surprised at what you tell me, that really — 
 I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some 
 mistake of person or name. We cannot mean the 
 same Mr. Ferrars." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 191 
 
 'We can mean no other/' cried Liicy^ smiling. 
 <'Mr. Edward Ferrars^ the eldest son of Mrs. Fer- 
 rars of Park Street^ and brother of 3^our sister-in- 
 law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; 
 you must allow that / am not likely to be deceived 
 as to the name of the man on whom all my happi- 
 ness depends.^' 
 
 ''It is strange/' replied Elinor, in a most pain- 
 ful perplexity, "that I should never have heard 
 him even mention your name." 
 
 "No; considering our situation, it was not 
 strange. Our first care has been to keep the mat- 
 ter secret. You knew nothing of me or my fam- 
 ily, and, therefore, there could be no occasion for 
 ever mentioning my name to you; and as he was 
 always particularly afraid of his sister's suspecting 
 anything, that was reason enough for his not men- 
 tioning it." 
 
 She was silent. Elinor's security sunk; but 
 her self-command did not sink with it. 
 
 "Four years you have been engaged," said she, 
 with a firm voice. 
 
 "Yes; and Heaven knows how much longer we 
 may have to wait. Poor Edward! It puts him 
 quite out of heart." Then taking a small minia- 
 ture from her pocket, she added: " To prevent the 
 possibility of mistake, be so good as to look at this 
 face. It does not do him justice, to be sure, but 
 yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person 
 
192 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 it was drew for. I have had it above these three 
 years.'' 
 
 She put it into her hands as she spoke; and 
 when Elinor saw the painting, whatever other 
 doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or her wish 
 of detecting falsehood, might suffer to linger in 
 her mind, she could have none of its being Ed- 
 ward's face. She returned it almost instantly, 
 acknowledging the likeness. 
 
 ^^I have never been able," continued Lucy, ^^to 
 give him my picture in return, which I am very 
 much vexed at, for he has been always so anxious 
 to get it! But I am determined to sit for it the 
 very first opportunity." 
 
 ^^You are quite in the right," replied Elinor, 
 calmly. They then proceeded a few paces in si- 
 lence. Lucy spoke first. 
 
 ^^I am sure," said she, " I have no doubt in the 
 world of your faithfully keeping this secret, be- 
 cause you must know of what importance it is to 
 us, not to have it reach his mother; for she would 
 never approve of it, I dare say. I shall have no 
 fortune, and I fancy she is an exceeding proud 
 woman. " 
 
 " I certainly did not seek your confidence," said 
 Elinor; but you do me no more than justice in 
 imagining that I may be depended on. Your 
 secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I ex- 
 press some surprise at so unnecessary a communi- 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 193 
 
 cation. You must at least have felt that my 
 being acquainted with it could not add to its 
 safety.^' 
 
 As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, 
 hoping to discover something in her countenance, 
 perhaps the falsehood of the greatest part of what 
 she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suf- 
 fered no change. 
 
 ^^I was afraid you would think I was taking a 
 great liberty with you/' said she, ^^in telling you 
 all this. I have not known you long, to be sure, 
 personally at least, but I have known you and all 
 your family by description a great while; and as 
 soon as I saw you, I felt almost as if you was an 
 old acquaintance. Besides, in the present case, I 
 really thought some explanation was due to you, 
 after my making such particular inquiries about 
 Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate that I 
 have not a creature whose advice I can ask. Anue 
 is the only person that knows of it, and she has no 
 judgment at all; indeed, she does me a great deal 
 more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of 
 her betraying me. She does not know how to hold 
 her tongue, as you must perceive; and I am sure I 
 was in the greatest fright in the world t' other day, 
 when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, 
 lest she should out with it all. You can't think 
 how much I go through in my mind from it alto- 
 gether. I only wonder that I am alive, after what 
 
 VOL. I. — 13 
 
194 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 I have suffered for Edward's sake these last four 
 years. Everything in such suspense and uncer- 
 tainty; and seeing him so seldom, — we can hardly 
 meet above twice a year, I am sure I wonder my 
 heart is not quite broke." 
 
 Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor 
 did not feel very compassionate. 
 
 Sometimes," continued Lucy, after wiping 
 her eyes, ^^I think whether it would not be better 
 for us both to break off the matter entirely." As 
 she said this, she looked directly at her companion. 
 
 But then, at other times, I have not resolution 
 enough for it. I cannot bear the thoughts of mak- 
 ing him so miserable as I know the very mention 
 of such a thing would do. And on my own account 
 too, — so dear as he is to me, — I don't think I 
 could be equal to it. What would you advise me 
 to do in such a case, Miss Dashwood? What would 
 you do yourself ? " 
 
 Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the 
 question; ^'but I can give you no advice under 
 such circumstances. Your own judgment must 
 direct you." 
 
 To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few min- 
 utes' silence on both sides, ^' his mother must pro- 
 vide for him some time or other; but poor Edward 
 is so cast down about it! Did not you think him 
 dreadful low-spirited when he was at Barton? He 
 was so miserable when he left us at Longstaple, to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 195 
 
 go to you, that I was afraid you would think him 
 quite ill.'' 
 
 Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he 
 visited us ? " 
 
 Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with 
 us. Did you think he came directly from town ? " 
 
 ^^No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible 
 of every fresh circumstance in favor of Lucy's ve- 
 racity; ^^I remember he told us that he had been 
 staying a fortnight with some friends near Ply- 
 mouth." She remembered, too, her own surprise 
 at the time, at his mentioning nothing further of 
 those friends, at his total silence with respect 
 even to their names. 
 
 *^ Did not you think him sadly out of spirits ? " 
 repeated Lucy. 
 
 We did, indeed, particularly so when he first 
 arrived." 
 
 ^^I begged him to exert himself, for fear you 
 should suspect what was the matter; but it made 
 him so melancholy, not being able to stay more 
 tlian a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much 
 affected. Poor fellow! I am afraid it is just the 
 same with him now; for he writes in wretched 
 spirits. I heard from him just before I left Exe- 
 ter; " taking a letter from her pocket, and care- 
 lessly showing the direction to Elinor. ^^You 
 know his hand, I dare say, — a charming one it is; 
 but that is not written so well as usual. He was 
 
196 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 tired, I dare say, for he bad just filled the sheet to 
 me as full as possible.'' 
 
 Elinor saw that it was bis hand, and she could 
 doubt no longer. The picture, she had allowed 
 herself to believe, might have been accidentally 
 obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; 
 but a correspondence between them by letter could 
 subsist only under a positive engagement, could be 
 authorized by nothing else. For a few moments she 
 was almost overcome, — her heart sunk within her, 
 and she could hardly stand; but exertion was in- 
 dispensably necessary; and she struggled so reso- 
 lutely against the oppression of her feelings 
 that her success was speedy and for the time 
 complete. 
 
 Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning 
 the letter into her pocket, " is the only comfort we 
 have in such long separations. Yes^ / have one 
 other comfort in his picture; but poor Edward has 
 not even that. If he had but my picture, he says he 
 should be easy. I gave him a lock of my hair set 
 in a ring when he was at Longstaple last, and that 
 was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal 
 to a picture. Perhaps you might notice the ring 
 when you saw him ? " 
 
 ^^I did,^^ said Elinor, with a composure of voice, 
 under v^hich was concealed an emotion and distress 
 beyond anything she had ever felt before. She 
 was mortified, shocked, confounded. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, 197 
 
 Fortunately for her, they had now reached the 
 cottage, and the conversation could he continued 
 no further. After sitting with them a few 
 minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, 
 and Elinor was then at liberty to think and be 
 wretched. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 However small Elinor's general dependence on 
 Lucy's veracity might be, it was impossible for 
 her, on serious reflection, to suspect it in the 
 present case, where no temptation could be 
 answerable to the folly of inventing a falsehood of 
 such a description. What Lucy had asserted to be 
 true, therefore, Elinor could not, dared not, longer 
 doubt; supported as it was, too, on every side by 
 such probabilities and proofs, and contradicted by 
 nothing but her own wishes. Their opportunity 
 of acquaintance in the house of Mr. Pratt was a 
 foundation for the rest, at once indisputable and 
 alarming; and Edward's visit near Plymouth, his 
 melancholy state of mind, his dissatisfaction at 
 his own prospects, his uncertain behavior towards 
 herself, the intimate knowledge of the Miss 
 Steeles as to Norland and their family connec- 
 tions, which had often surprised her, the picture, 
 the letter, the ring, formed altogether such a body 
 of evidence as overcame every fear of condemning 
 him unfairly, and established as a fact, which no 
 partiality could set aside, his ill-treatment of her- 
 self. Her resentment of such behavior, her in- 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 199 
 
 dignation at having been its dupe, for a short time 
 made her feel only for herself; but other ideas, 
 other considerations soon arose. Had Edward 
 been intentionally deceiving her? Had he feigned 
 a regard for her which he did not feel? Was his 
 engagement to Lucy an engagement of the heart? 
 No; whatever it might once have been, she could 
 not believe it snch at present. His affection was 
 all her own. She could not be deceived in that. 
 Her mother, sisters, Fanny, all had been conscious 
 of his regard for her at Norland; it was not an 
 illusion of her own vanity. He certainly loved 
 her. What a softener of the heart was this per- 
 suasion! How much could it not tempt her to 
 forgive ! He had been blamable, highly blamable, 
 in remaining at Norland after he first felt her in* 
 fluence over him to be more than it ought to be* 
 In that he could not be defended; but if he had 
 injured her, how much more had he injured him- 
 self; if her case were pitiable, his was hopeless. 
 His imprudence had made her miserable for a 
 while; but it seemed to have deprived himself of 
 all chance of ever being otherwise. She might in 
 time regain tranquillity ; but he — what had he to 
 look forward to? Could he ever be tolerably happy 
 with Lucy Steele? Could he, were his affection for 
 herself out of the question, with his integrity, his 
 delicacy, and well-informed mind, be satisfied with 
 a wife like her, — illiterate, artful, and selfish? 
 
200 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 The youthful infatuation of nineteen would 
 naturally blind him to everything but her beauty 
 and good nature ; but the four succeeding years — 
 years which, if rationally spent, give such im- 
 provement to the understanding — must have 
 opened his eyes to her defects of education, while 
 the same period of time, spent on her side in inferior 
 society and more frivolous pursuits, had perhaps 
 robbed her of that simplicity which might once 
 have given an interesting character to her beauty. 
 
 If in the supposition of his seeking to marry 
 herself, his difficulties from his mother had seemed 
 great, how much greater were they now likely to 
 be when the object of his engagement was un- 
 doubtedly inferior in connections, and probably 
 inferior in fortune, to herself! These difficulties, 
 indeed, with a heart so alienated from Lucy, 
 might not press very hard upon his patience; but 
 melancholy was the state of the person by whom 
 the expectation of family opposition and unkind- 
 ness could be felt as a relief! 
 
 As these considerations occurred to her in pain- 
 ful succession, she wept for him more than for 
 herself. Supported by the conviction of having 
 done nothing to merit her present unhappiness, 
 and consoled by the belief that Edward had done 
 nothing to forfeit her esteem, she thought she could 
 even now, under the first smart of the heavy blow, 
 command herself enough to guard every suspicion 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 201 
 
 of the truth from her mother and sisters. And so 
 well was she able to answer her own expectations, 
 that when she joined them at dinner, only two 
 hours after she had first suffered the extinction of 
 all her dearest hopes, no one would have sup- 
 posed, from the appearance of the sisters, that 
 Elinor was mourning in secret over obstacles 
 which must divide her forever from the object of 
 her love, and that Marianne was internally dwell- 
 ing on the perfections of a man of whose whole 
 heart she felt thoroughly possessed, and whom she 
 expected to see in every carriage which drove near 
 their house. 
 
 The necessity of concealing from her mother and 
 Marianne what had been intrusted in confidence to 
 herself, though it obliged her to unceasing exer- 
 tion, was no aggravation of Elinor's distress. On 
 the contrary, it was a relief to her to be spared 
 the communication of what would give such afflic- 
 tion to them, and to be saved likewise from hear- 
 ing that condemnation of Edward which would 
 probably flow from the excess of their partial affec- 
 tion for herself, and which was more than she felt 
 equal to support. 
 
 From their counsel or their conversation she 
 knew she could receive no assistance ; their tender- 
 ness and sorrow must add to her distress, while 
 her self-command would neither receive encourage- 
 ment from their example nor from their praise. 
 
202 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY^ 
 
 She was stronger alone; and her own good sense 
 so well supported her that her firmness was as 
 unshaken, her appearance of cheerfulness as inva- 
 riable, as, with regrets so poignant and so fresh, 
 it was possible for them to be. 
 
 Much as she had suffered from her first conver- 
 sation with Lucy on the subject, she soon felt an 
 earnest wish of renewing it; and this for more 
 reasons than one. She wanted to hear many par- 
 ticulars of their engagement repeated again; she 
 wanted more clearly to understand what Lucy 
 really felt for Edward, whether there were any sin- 
 cerity in her declaration of tender regard for him; 
 and she particularly wanted to convince Lucy, by 
 her readiness to enter on the matter again, and 
 her calmness in conversing on it, that she was no* 
 otherwise interested in it than as a friend, which 
 she very much feared her involuntary agitation in 
 their morning discourse must have left at least 
 doubtful. That Lucy was disposed to be jealous of 
 her appeared very probable : it was plain that Ed- 
 ward had always spoken highly in her praise, not 
 merely from Lucy's assertion, but from her ven- 
 turing to trust her on so short a personal acquaint- 
 ance with a secret so confessedly and evidently 
 important. And even Sir John's joking intelli- 
 gence must have had some weight. But indeed, 
 while Elinor remained so well assured within her- 
 self of being really beloved by Edward, it required 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 203 
 
 no other consideration of probabilities to make it 
 natural that Lucy should be jealous; and that she 
 was so, her very confidence was a proof. What 
 other reason for the disclosure of the affair could 
 there be, but that Elinor might be informed by it 
 of Lucy's superior claims on Edward, and be taught 
 to avoid him in future? She had little difficulty 
 in understanding thus much of her rival's inten- 
 tions; and while she w^as firmly resolved to act by 
 her as every principle of honor and honest}^ di- 
 rected, to combat her own affection for Edward, 
 and to see him as little as possible, she could not 
 deny herself the comfort of endeavoring to con- 
 vince Lucy that her heart was unwounded. And 
 as she could now have nothing more painful to 
 hear on the subject than had already been told, she 
 did not mistrust her own ability of going through 
 a repetition of particulars with composure. 
 
 But it was not immediately that an opportunity 
 of doing so could be commanded, though Lucy was 
 as well disposed as herself to take advantage of 
 any that occurred; for the weather was not often 
 fine enough to allow of their joining in a w^alk, 
 where they might most easily separate themselves 
 from the others; and though they met at least 
 every other evening either at the Park or cottage, 
 and chiefly at the former, they could not be sup- 
 posed to meet for the sake of conversation. Such 
 a thought would never enter either Sir John or 
 
204 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Lady Middleton's head; and therefore very little 
 leisure was ever given for general chat, and none 
 at all for particular discourse. They met for the 
 sake of eating, drinking, and laughing together, 
 playing at cards, or consequences, or any other 
 game that was sufficiently noisy. 
 
 One or two meetings of this kind had taken 
 place without affording Elinor any chance of 
 engaging Lucy in private, when Sir John called at 
 the cottage one morning, to beg, in the name of 
 charity, that they would all dine with Lady Mid- 
 dleton that day, as he was obliged to attend the 
 club at Exeter, and she would otherwise be quite 
 alone, except her mother and the two Miss Steeles. 
 Elinor, who foresaw a fairer opening for the point 
 she had in view in such a party as this was likely* 
 to be, more at liberty among themselves under the 
 tranquil and well-bred direction of Lady Middle- 
 ton than when her husband united them together 
 in one noisy purpose, immediately accepted the 
 invitation; Margaret, with her mother's permis- 
 sion, was equally compliant; and Marianne, though 
 always unwilling to join any of their parties, was 
 persuaded by her mother, who could not bear to 
 have her seclude herself from any chance of amuse- 
 ment, to go likewise. 
 
 The young ladies went, and Lady Middleton 
 w^as happily preserved from the frightful solitude 
 which had threatened her. The insipidity of the 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 205 
 
 meeting was exactly such as Elinor had expected: 
 it produced not one novelty of thought or expres- 
 sion; and nothing could be less interesting than 
 the whole of their discourse both in the dining- 
 parlor and drawing-room: to the latter, the chil- 
 dren accompanied them; and while they remained 
 there, she was too well convinced of the impossi- 
 bility of engaging Lucy^s attention to attempt it. 
 They quitted it only with the removal of the tea- 
 things. The card-table was then placed; and 
 Elinor began to wonder at herself for having ever 
 entertained a hope of finding time for conversation 
 at the Park. They all rose up in preparation for a 
 round game. 
 
 ^^I am glad," said Lady Middleton to Lucy, 
 ^^you are not going to finish poor little Anna- 
 maria's basket this evening; for I am sure it must 
 hurt your eyes to work filigree by candlelight. 
 And we will make the dear little love some amends 
 for her disappointment to-morrow, and then I hope 
 she will not much mind it." 
 
 This hint was enough. Lucy recollected herself 
 instantly, and replied : " Indeed you are very much 
 mistaken. Lady Middleton; I am only waiting to 
 know whether you can make your party without 
 me, or I should have been at my filigree already. 
 I would not disappoint the little angel for all the 
 world; and if you want me at the card- table now, 
 I am resolved to finish the basket after supper." 
 
206 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ^^You are very good, — I hope it won't liiirt 
 your eyes. Will you ring the bell for some 
 working candles? My poor little girl would be 
 sadly disappointed, I know, if the basket was not 
 finished to-morrow; for though I told her it cer- 
 tainly would not, I am sure she depends upon 
 having it done.'' 
 
 Lucy directly drew her work-table near her, and 
 reseated herself with an alacrity and cheerfulness 
 which seemed to infer that she could taste no 
 greater delight than in making a filigree basket 
 for a spoiled child. 
 
 Lady Middleton proposed a rubber of cassino to 
 the others. ISTo one made any objection but Mari- 
 anne, who with her usual inattention to the forms 
 of general civility exclaimed: ^^Your Lad3'Shi]3' 
 will have the goodness to excuse me, — you know I 
 detest cards. I shall go to the pianoforte; I have 
 not touched it since it was tuned." And without 
 further ceremony she turned away and walked to 
 the instrument. 
 
 Lady Middleton looked as if she thanked Heaven 
 that she had never made so rude a speech. 
 
 Marianne can never keep long from that in- 
 strument, you know, ma'am,'' said Elinor, endeav- 
 oring to smooth away the offence; ^^and I do not 
 much wonder at it; for it is the very best toned 
 pianoforte I ever heard." 
 
 The remaining five were now to draw their cards. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 207 
 
 Perhaps/' continued Elinor, it I sliould 
 happen to cut out, I may be of some use to Miss 
 Lucy Steele, in rolling her papers for her; and 
 there is so much still to be done to the basket, 
 that it must be impossible, I think, for her labor, 
 singly, to finish it this evening. I should like 
 the work exceedingly, if she would allow me a 
 share in it.'' 
 
 Indeed I shall be very much obliged to you 
 for your help," cried Lucy, '^forl find there is 
 more to be done to it than I thought there was; 
 and it would be a shocking thing to disappoint 
 dear Anna-maria after all." 
 
 Oh, that would be terrible, indeed! " said Miss 
 Steele. ^^Dear little soul, how I do love her! " 
 
 You are very kind," said Lad}^ Middleton to 
 Elinor; ^^and as you really like the work, perhaps 
 you will be as well pleased not to cut in till an- 
 other rubber, or will you take your chance now?" 
 
 Elinor joyfully profited by the first of these pro- 
 posals, and thus, by a little of that address which 
 Marianne could never condescend to practise, gained 
 her own end, and pleased Lady Middleton at the 
 same time. Lucy made room for her with ready at- 
 tention ; and the two fair rivals were thus seated, 
 side by side, at the same table, and with the ut- 
 most harmony, engaged in forwarding the same 
 work. The pianoforte, at which Marianne, wrapped 
 up in her own music and her own thoughts, had 
 
208 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 hy this time forgotten that anybody was in the 
 room besides herself, was luckily so near them 
 that Miss Dashwood now judged she might safely, 
 under the shelter of its noise, introduce the in- 
 teresting subject without any risk of being heard 
 at the card-table. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 Ix a firm though cautious tone, Elinor thus 
 began : — 
 
 " I should be undeserving of the confidence you 
 have honored me with, if I felt no desire for its 
 continuance, or no further curiosity on its subject. 
 I will not apologize, therefore, for bringing it for- 
 ward again." 
 
 " Thank you," cried Lucy, warmly, ^^for break- 
 ing the ice : you have set my heart at ease by it ; 
 for I was, somehow or other, afraid I had offended 
 you by what I told you that Monday." 
 
 Offended me! How could you suppose so? 
 Believe me," and Elinor spoke it with the truest 
 sincerity, nothing could be further from my in- 
 tention than to give you such an idea. Could you 
 have a motive for the trust, that was not honorable 
 and flattering to me? " 
 
 ^^And yet, I do assure you," replied Lucy, her 
 little sharp eyes full of meaning, ' ' there seemed to 
 me to be a coldness and displeasure in your man- 
 ner that made me quite uncomfortable. I felt 
 sure that you was angry w4th mej and have been 
 
 VOL. I. — 14 
 
210 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 quarrelling with myself ever since for having took 
 such a liberty as to trouble you with my affairs. 
 But I am very glad to find it was only my own 
 fancy, and that you do not really blame me. If 
 you knew what a consolation it was to me to relieve 
 my heart, by speaking to you of what I am always 
 thinking of every moment of my life, your compas- 
 sion would make you overlook everything else, I 
 am sure." 
 
 " Indeed, I can easily believe that it was a very 
 great relief to you to acknowledge your situation 
 to me, and be assured that you shall never have 
 reason to repent it. Your case is a very unfortu- 
 nate one ; you seem to me to be surrounded with 
 difficulties; and you will have need of all your 
 mutual affection to support you under them. Mr. 
 Perrars, I believe, is entirely dependent on his 
 mother." 
 
 ' ' He has only two thousand pounds of his own : 
 it would be madness to marry upon that; though, 
 for my own part, I could give up every prospect of 
 more without a sigh. I have been always used to 
 a very small income, and could struggle with any 
 poverty for him ; but I love him too well to be the 
 selfish means of robbing him, perhaps, of all that 
 his mother might give him, if he married to please 
 her. We must wait, it may be for many years. 
 With almost every other man in the world, it 
 would be an alarming prospect; but Edward's 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 211 
 
 affection and constancy nothing can deprive me 
 of, T know.'^ 
 
 ^^Tliat conviction must be everything to you; 
 and he is, undoubtedly, supported by the same 
 trust in yours. If the strength of your reciprocal 
 attachment had failed, as between many people 
 and under many circumstances it naturally would 
 during a four years' engagement, your situation 
 would have been pitiable indeed. 
 
 Lucy here looked up; but Elinor was careful in 
 guarding her countenance from every expression 
 that could give her words a suspicious tendency. 
 
 Edward's love for me," said Lucy, ^^has been 
 pretty well put to the test by our long, very long 
 absence since we were first engaged, and it has 
 stood the trial so well that I should be unpardon- 
 able to doubt it now. I can safely say that he has 
 never gave me one moment's alarm on that account 
 from the first." 
 
 Elinor hardly knew whether to smile or sigh at 
 this assertion. 
 
 Lucy went on. I am rather of a jealous tem- 
 per, too, by nature; and from our different situa- 
 tions in life, from his being so much more in the 
 world than me, and our continual separation, I was 
 enough inclined for suspicion to have found out 
 the truth in an instant, if there had been the 
 slightest alteration in his behavior to me when 
 we met, or any lowness of spirits that I could not 
 
212 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 account for, or if lie had talked more of one lady 
 than another, or seemed in any respect less happy 
 at Longstaple than he used to he. I do not mean 
 to say that I am particularly ohservant or quick- 
 sighted in general, hut in such a case I am sure 
 I could not he deceived.'' 
 
 ^^All this," thought Elinor, ^^is very pretty, 
 but it can impose upon neither of us.'' 
 
 ^^But what," said she, after a short silence, 
 ^^are your views? or have you none hut that of 
 w^aiting for Mrs. Ferrars's death, which is a melan- 
 choly and shocking extremity? Is her son deter- 
 mined to submit to this, and to all the tediousness 
 of the many years of suspense in which it may 
 involve you, rather than run the risk of her dis- 
 pleasure for a while by owning the truth? " 
 
 ^^If we could be certain that it would be only 
 for a while! But Mrs. Eerrars is a very head- 
 strong, proud v/oman, and in her first fit of anger 
 upon hearing it would very likely secure every- 
 thing to Robert; and the idea of that, for Ed- 
 ward's sake, frightens away all my inclination for 
 hasty measures." 
 
 And for your own sake too, or you are carry- 
 ing your disinterestedness beyond reason." 
 
 Lucy looked at Elinor again, and was silent. 
 
 '^Do you know Mr. Eobert Ferrars?^' asked 
 Elinor. 
 
 ^^Not at all, — I never saw him; but I fancy he 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 213 
 
 is very unlike his brother, — silly, and a great 
 coxcomb. 
 
 A great coxcomb!^' repeated Miss Steele, 
 whose ear had caught those words by a sudden 
 pause in Marianne's music. ^^Oh, they are talk- 
 ing of their favorite beaux, I dare say.'^ 
 
 Ko, sister, cried Lucy, you are mis- 
 taken there, — our favorite beaux are not great 
 coxcombs.'' 
 
 ^^1 can answer for it that Miss Dashwood's is 
 not," said Mrs. Jennings, laughing heartily; ^^for 
 he is one of the modestest, prettiest behaved young 
 men I ever saw; but as for Lucy, she is such a 
 sly little creature, there is no finding out who she 
 likes." 
 
 ^^Oh, " cried Miss Steele, looking significantly 
 round at them, " I dare say Lucy's beau is 
 quite as modest and pretty behaved as Miss 
 Dashwood's." 
 
 Elinor blushed in spite of herself. Lucy bit 
 her lip, and looked angrily at her sister. A mu- 
 tual silence took place for some time. Lucy first 
 put an end to it by saying, in a lower tone, though 
 Marianne was then giving them the powerful pro- 
 tection of a very magnificent concerto, — 
 
 ^^I will honestly tell you of one scheme which 
 has lately come into my head for bringing matters 
 to bear; indeed I am bound to let you into the 
 secret, for you are a party concerned. I dare say 
 
214 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 jou have seen enough of Edward to know that he 
 would prefer the church to every other profession; 
 now my plan is, that he should take orders as soon 
 as he can; and then, through your interest, which 
 I am sure you would be kind enough to use out of 
 friendship for him, and I hope out of some regard 
 to me, your brother might be persuaded to give 
 him Norland living, which I understand is a very 
 good one, and the present incumbent not likely to 
 live a great while. That would be enough for us 
 to marry upon, and w^e might trust to time and 
 chance for the rest.'' 
 
 ^^I should be always happy," replied Elinor, 
 ^^to show any mark of my esteem and friendship 
 for Mr. Eerrars; but do not you perceive that my 
 interest on such an occasion would be perfectly 
 unnecessary? He is brother to Mrs. John Dash- 
 wood, — that must be recommendation enough to 
 her husband." 
 
 ^^But Mrs. John Dash wood would not much 
 approve of Edward's going into orders." 
 
 ^^Then I rather suspect that my interest would 
 do very little." 
 
 They were again silent for many minutes. At 
 length Lucy exclaimed, with a deep sigh, — 
 
 I believe it would be the wisest way to put an 
 end to the business at once by dissolving the en- 
 gagement. We seem so beset with difficulties on 
 every side, that though it would make us miserable 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 215 
 
 for a time, we should be happier perhaps in the 
 end. But you will not give me your advice, Miss 
 Dashwood?" 
 
 ^^ISTo/^ answered Elinor, with a smile, which 
 concealed very agitated feelings; ^^on such a sub- 
 ject I certainly will not. You know very well 
 that my opinion would have no weight with you, 
 unless it were on the side of your wishes.'^ 
 
 Indeed you wrong me, replied Lucy, with 
 great solemnity. ^^I know nobody of whose judg- 
 ment I think so highly as I do of yours; and I do 
 really believe that if you was to say to me, ' I ad- 
 vise you by all means to put an end to your en- 
 gagement with Edward Eerrars, it will be more 
 for the happiness of both of you, ' I should resolve 
 upon doing it immediately." 
 
 Elinor blushed for the insincerity of Edward's 
 future wife, and replied: ^^This compliment would 
 effectually frighten me from giving any opinion on 
 the subject had I formed one. It raises my influ- 
 ence much too high: the power of dividing two 
 people so tenderly attached is too much for an in- 
 different person." 
 
 " 'T is because you are an indifferent person," 
 said Lucy, with some pique, and laying a particular 
 stress on those words, that your judgment might 
 justly have such weight with me. If you could be 
 supposed to be biassed in any respect by your own 
 feelings, your opinion would not be worth having." 
 
216 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Elinor thought it wisest to make no answer to 
 this, lest they might provoke each other to an un- 
 suitable increase of ease and unreserve j and was 
 even partly determined never to mention the sub- 
 ject again. Another pause, therefore, of many 
 minutes' duration, succeeded this speech, and 
 Lucy was still the first to end it. 
 
 Shall you be in town this winter. Miss Dash- 
 wood ? '' said she, with all her accustomary 
 complacency. 
 
 Certainly not." 
 
 I am sorry for that," returned the other, while 
 her eyes brightened at the information; it would 
 have gave me such pleasure to meet you there! 
 But I dare say you will go for all that. To be 
 sure, your brother and sister will ask you to come 
 to them." 
 
 ^^It will not be in my power to accept their 
 invitation if they do." 
 
 How unlucky that is! I had quite depended 
 upon meeting you there. Anne and me are to go 
 the latter end of January to some relations who 
 have been wanting us to visit them these several 
 years. But I only go for the sake of seeing Ed- 
 ward. He will be there in February, otherwise 
 London would have no charms for me ; I have not 
 spirits for it." 
 
 Elinor was soon called to the card-table by the 
 conclusion of the first rubber, and the confidential 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 217 
 
 discourse of the two ladies was therefore at an end; 
 to which both of them submitted without any re- 
 luctance, for nothing had been said on either side 
 to make them dislike each other less than they had 
 done before; and Elinor sat down to the card-table 
 with the melancholy persuasion that Edward was 
 not only without affection for the person who was 
 to be his wife, but that he had not even the chance 
 of being tolerably happy in marriage, which sin- 
 cere affection on her side would have given; for 
 self-interest alone could induce a woman to keep 
 a man to an engagement of which she seemed so 
 thoroughly aware that he was weary. 
 
 From this time the subject was never revived by 
 Elinor ; and when entered on by Lucy, who seldom 
 missed an opportunity of introducing it, and was 
 particularly careful to inform her confidante of her 
 happiness whenever she received a letter from Ed- 
 ward, it was treated by the former with calmness 
 and caution, and dismissed as soon as civility 
 would allow; for she felt such conversations to be 
 an indulgence which Lucy did not deserve, and 
 which were dangerous to herself. 
 
 The visit of the Miss Steeles at Barton Park was 
 lengthened far beyond what the first invitation im- 
 plied. Their favor increased; they could not be 
 spared; Sir John would not hear of their going; 
 and in spite of their numerous and long arranged 
 engagements in Exeter, in spite of the absolute 
 
218 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 necessity of their returning to fulfil them imme- 
 diately, which v/as in fall force at the end of every 
 week, they were prevailed on to stay nearly two 
 months at the Park, and to assist in the due cele- 
 bration of that festival which requires a more than 
 ordinary share of private balls and large dinners to 
 proclaim its importance. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Though Mrs. Jennings was in the habit of spend- 
 ing a large portion of the year at the houses of her 
 children and friends, she was not without a settled 
 habitation of her own. Since the death of her 
 husband, who had traded with success in a less 
 elegant part of the town, she had resided every 
 winter in a house in one of the streets near Port- 
 man Square. Towards this home she began, on 
 the approach of January, to turn her thoughts; 
 and thither she one day abruptly, and very unex- 
 pectedly by them, asked the elder Miss Dashwoods 
 to accompany her. Elinor, without observing the 
 varying complexion of her sister, and the animated 
 look which spoke no indifference to the plan, im- 
 mediately gave a grateful but absolute denial for 
 both, in which she believed herself to be speaking 
 their united inclinations. The reason alleged was 
 their determined resolution of not leaving their 
 mother at that time of the year. Mrs. Jennings 
 received the refusal with some surprise, and re- 
 peated her invitation immediately. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Lord ! I am sure your mother can spare 
 you very well, and I do beg you will favor me with 
 
220 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 your company, for I Ve quite set my heart upon it. 
 Don't fancy that you will be any inconvenience to 
 me, for I sha'n't put myself at all out of my way 
 lor you. It will only be sending Betty by the 
 coach, and I hope I can afford that. We three 
 shall be able to go very well in my chaise; and 
 when we are in town, if you do not like to go 
 wherever I do, well and good, you may always go 
 with one of my daughters. I am sure your mother 
 will not object to it; for I have had such good 
 luck in getting my own children off my hands 
 that she will think me a ver}^ fit person to have 
 the charge of you; and if I don't get one of you 
 at least well married before I have done with you, 
 it shall not be my fault. I shall speak a good 
 word for you to all the young men^ you may de- 
 pend upon it." 
 
 ^^I have a notion," said Sir John, ^^that Miss 
 Marianne would not object to such a scheme if her 
 eldest sister would come into it. It is very hard, 
 indeed, that she should not have a little pleasure, 
 because Miss Dashwood does not wish it. So I 
 would advise you two to set off for town, when you 
 are tired of Barton, without saying a word to Miss 
 Dashwood about it." 
 
 '*Nay," cried Mrs. Jennings, ^^I am sure I 
 shall be monstrous glad of Miss Marianne's com- 
 pany, whether Miss Dashwood will go or not, only 
 the more the merrier say I, and I thought it would 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 221 
 
 be more comfortable for them to be together; be- 
 cause if they got tired of me they might talk to 
 one another, and laugh at my odd ways behind my 
 back. But one or the other, if not both of them, I 
 must have. Lord bless me ! how do you think I can 
 live poking by mj^self, — I who have been always 
 used, till this winter^ to have Charlotte with me! 
 Come, Miss Marianne, let us strike hands upon 
 the bargain; and if Miss Dashwood will change 
 her mind by and by, why^, ?o much the better." 
 
 ^^I thank you, ma'am, ^^incerely thank you,'' 
 said Marianne, with warmth; ^^your invitation 
 has insured my gratitude forever; and it would 
 give me such happiness, yes, almost the greatest 
 happiness I am capable of, to be able to accept it. 
 But my mother, my dearest, kindest mother, — I 
 feel the justice of what Elinor has urged; and if 
 she were to be made less haj)py, less comfortable 
 by our absence, — oh, no, nothing should tempt 
 me to leave her. It should not, must not be a 
 struggle." 
 
 Mrs. Jennings repeated her assurance that Mrs. 
 Dashwood could spare them perfectly well; and 
 Elinor, who now understood her sister, and saw to 
 what indifference to almost everything else she was 
 carried by her eagerness to be with Willoughby 
 again, made no further direct opposition to the 
 plan, and merely referred it to her mother's deci- 
 sion, from whom, however, she scarcely expected to 
 
222 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 receive any support in her endeavor to prevent a 
 visit which she could not approve of for Marianne, 
 and which on her own account she had particular 
 reasons to avoid. Whatever Marianne was desir- 
 ous of, her mother would be eager to promote: 
 she could not expect to influence the latter to cau- 
 tiousness of conduct in an affair respecting which 
 she had never been able to inspire her with dis- 
 trust; and she dared not explain the motive of her 
 own disinclination for going to London. That 
 Marianne, fastidious as she was, thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with Mrs. Jennings's manners, and inva- 
 riably disgusted by them, should overlook every 
 inconvenience of that kind, should disregard what- 
 ever must be most wounding to her irritable feel- 
 ings, in her pursuit of one object, was such a 
 proof, so strong, so full, of the importance of that 
 object to her, as Elinor, in spite of all that had 
 passed, was not prepared to witness. 
 
 On being informed of the invitation, Mrs. Dash- 
 wood, persuaded that such an excursion would be 
 productive of much amusement to both her daugh- 
 ters, and perceiving, through all her affectionate at- 
 tention to herself, how much the heart of Marianne 
 was in it, would not hear of their declining the 
 offer upon her account ; insisted on their both ac- 
 cepting it directly; and then began to foresee, with 
 her usual cheerfulness, a variety of advantages that 
 would accrue to them all from this separation. 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 223 
 
 I am deliglited witli the plan/' she cried; ^^it 
 is exactly what I could wish. Margaret and I 
 shall he as much henefited hy it as yourselves. 
 When you and the Middletons are gone, we shall 
 go on so quietly and happily together with our 
 books and our music ! You will find Margaret so 
 improved when you come hack again! And I have 
 a little plan of alteration for your bedrooms, too, 
 which may now be performed without inconven- 
 ience to any one. It is very right that you should 
 go to town; I would have every young woman of 
 your condition in life acquainted with the manners 
 and amusements of London. You will be under 
 the care of a motherly, good sort of woman, of 
 whose kindness to you I can have no doubt. And 
 in all probability you will see your brother; 
 and whatever may be his faults, or the faults of 
 his wife, when I consider whose son he is, I cannot 
 bear to have you so wholly estranged from each 
 other." 
 
 Though with your usual anxiety for our hap- 
 piness,'^ said Elinor, ^^you have been obviating 
 every impediment to the present scheme which 
 occurred to you, there is still one objection which 
 in my opinion cannot be so easily removed." 
 
 Marianne's countenance sunk. 
 
 ^^And what," said Mrs. Dashwood, ^^is my 
 dear, prudent Elinor going to suggest? What 
 formidable obstacle is she now to bring forward? 
 
224 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Do not let me hear a word about the expense 
 of it." 
 
 ^'^My objection is this: though I think very 
 well of Mrs. Jennings's hearty she is not a woman 
 whose society can afford us pleasure^ or whose 
 protection will give us consequence." 
 
 ^^That is very true," replied her mother; ^^but 
 of her society separately from that of other people, 
 you will scarcely have anything at all, and you 
 will almost always appear in public with Lady 
 Middleton." 
 
 ^^If Elinor is frightened away by her dislike of 
 Mrs. Jennings," said Marianne, ^^at least it need 
 not prevent my accepting her invitation. I have 
 no such scruples; and I am sure I could put up 
 with every unpleasantness of that kind with very* 
 little effort." 
 
 Elinor could not help smiling at this display of 
 indifference towards the manners of a person to 
 whom she had often had difficulty in persuading 
 Marianne to behave with tolerable politeness; and 
 resolved within herself that if her sister persisted 
 in going, she would go likewise, as she did not 
 think it proper that Marianne should be left to the 
 sole guidance of her own judgment, or that Mrs. 
 Jennings should be abandoned to the mercy of 
 Marianne, for all the comfort of her domestic 
 hours. To this determination she was the more 
 easily reconciled by recollecting that Edward 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 225 
 
 Ferrars, by Lucy^s account, was not to be in town 
 before February; and that their visit, without 
 any unreasonable abridgment, might be previously 
 finished. 
 
 I will hav^e you both go, said Mrs. Dashwood; 
 
 these objections are nonsensical. You will have 
 much pleasure in being in London, and especially 
 in being together; and if Elinor would ever con- 
 descend to anticipate enjoyment, she would foresee 
 it there from a variety of sources ; she would, per- 
 haps, expect some from improving her acquaintance 
 with her sister-in-law's family.'^ 
 
 Elinor had often wished for an opportunity of 
 attempting to weaken her mother's dependence on 
 the attachment of Edward and herself, that the 
 shock might be the less when the whole truth were 
 revealed; and now, on this attack, though almost 
 hopeless of success, she forced herself to begin her 
 design by saying, as calmly as she could: ^^I like 
 Edward Ferrars very much, and shall always be 
 glad to see him; but as to the rest of the family, 
 it is a matter of perfect indifference to me whether 
 I am ever known to them or not." 
 
 Mrs. Dashwood smiled, and said nothing. 
 Marianne lifted up her eyes in astonishment, and 
 Elinor conjectured that she might as well have 
 held her tongue. 
 
 After very little further discourse, it was finally 
 settled that the invitation should be fully ac- 
 
 VOL. I. — 15 
 
226 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 cepted. Mrs. Jennings received the information 
 with a great deal of joy, and many assurances of 
 kindness and care; nor was it a matter of pleasure 
 merely to her. Sir John was delighted; for to a 
 man whose prevailing anxiety was the dread of 
 being alone, the acquisition of two to the number 
 of inhabitants in London was something. Even 
 Lady Middleton took the trouble of being de- 
 lighted, which was putting herself rather out of 
 her way; and as for the Miss Steeles, especially 
 Lucy, they had never been so happy in their lives 
 as this intelligence made them. 
 
 Elinor submitted to the arrangement which 
 counteracted her wishes with less reluctance than 
 she had expected to feel. With regard to herself, 
 it was now a matter of unconcern whether she 
 went to town or not ; and when she saw her mother 
 so thoroughly pleased with the plan, and her 
 sister exhilarated by it in look, voice, and manner, 
 restored to all her usual animation, and elevated 
 to more than her usual gayety, she could not be 
 dissatisfied with the cause, and would hardly allow 
 herself to distrust the consequence. 
 
 Marianne's joy was almost a degree beyond 
 happiness, so great was the perturbation of her 
 spirits, and her impatience to be gone. Her un- 
 willingness to quit her mother was her only re- 
 storative to calmness; and at the moment of 
 parting her grief on that score was excessive. Her 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 227 
 
 mother's affliction was hardly less; and Elinor 
 was the only one of the three who seemed to con- 
 sider the separation as anything short of eternal. 
 
 Their departure took place in the first week in 
 January. The Middletons were to follow in about 
 a week. The Miss Steeles kept their station at 
 the Park, and were to quit it only with the rest 
 of the family. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 Elinor could not find herself in the carriage with 
 Mrs. Jennings, and beginning a journey to Lon- 
 don under her protection, and as her guest, with- 
 out wondering at her own situation, so short 
 had their acquaintance with that lady been, so 
 wholly unsuited were they in age and disposition, 
 and so many had been her objections against such 
 a measure only a few days before! But these 
 objections had all, with that happy ardor of youth 
 which Marianne and her mother equally shared, 
 been overcome or overlooked; and Elinor, in spite 
 of every occasional doubt of Willoughby's con- 
 stancy, could not witness the rapture of delightful 
 expectation which filled the whole soul and beamed 
 in the eyes of Marianne, without feeling how 
 blank was her own prospect, how cheerless her own 
 state of mind in the comparison, and how gladly 
 she would engage in the solicitude of Marianne^s 
 situation to have the same animating object in 
 view, the same possibility of hope. A short, a very 
 short time, however, must now decide what Wil- 
 loughby's intentions were; in all probability he 
 was already in town. Marianne's eagerness to 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 229 
 
 be gone declared her dependence on finding liim 
 there; and Elinor was resolved not only upon 
 gaining every new light as to his character 
 which her own observation or the intelligence 
 of others could give her, but likewise upon watch- 
 ing his behavior to her sister with such zealous 
 attention as to ascertain what he was and what he 
 meant, before many meetings had taken place. 
 Should the result of her observations be unfavor- 
 able, she was determined at all events to open the 
 eyes of her sister; should it be otherwise, her 
 exertions would be of a different nature, — she 
 must then learn to avoid every selfish compari- 
 son, and banish every regret which might lessen 
 her satisfaction in the happiness of Marianne. 
 
 They were three days on their journey; and 
 Marianne's behavior, as they travelled, was a 
 happy specimen of what her future complaisance 
 and companionableness to Mrs. Jennings might be 
 expected to be. She sat in silence almost all the 
 way, wrapped in her own meditations, and scarcely 
 ever voluntarily speaking, except when any object 
 of picturesque beauty within their view drew from 
 her an exclamation of delight exclusively addressed 
 to her sister. To atone for this conduct, therefore, 
 Elinor took immediate possession of the post of 
 civility which she had assigned herself, behaved 
 with the greatest attention to Mrs. Jennings, 
 talked with her, laughed with her, and listened to 
 
230 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 her whenever she could; and Mrs. Jennings, on 
 her side, treated them both with all possible kind- 
 ness, was solicitous on every occasion for their 
 ease and enjoyment, and only disturbed that she 
 could not make them choose their own dinners at 
 the inn, nor extort a confession of their preferring 
 salmon to cod, or boiled fowls to veal cutlets. 
 They reached town by three o'clock the third day, 
 glad to be released, after such a journey, from the 
 confinement of a carriage, and ready to enjoy all 
 the luxury of a good fire. 
 
 The house was handsome and handsomely fitted 
 up; and the young ladies were immediately put in 
 possession of a very comfortable apartment. It 
 had formerly been Charlotte's; and over the man- 
 telpiece still hung a landscape in colored silks 
 of her performance, in proof of her having spent 
 seven years at a great school in town to some 
 effect. 
 
 As dinner was not to be ready in less than two 
 hours from their arrival, Elinor determined to em- 
 ploy the interval in writing to her mother, and sat 
 down for that purpose. In a few moments Mari- 
 anne did the same, ^^/am writing home, Mari- 
 anne," said Elinor; ^^had not you better defer 
 your letter for a day or two?" 
 
 ^^I am not going to write to my mother," re- 
 plied Marianne, hastily, and as if wishing to avoid 
 any further inquiry. Elinor said no more : it im- 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 231 
 
 mediately struck her that she must then he writing 
 to Willoughhy; and the conclusion which as in- 
 stantly followed was, that however mysteriously 
 they might wish to conduct the affair, they must 
 be engaged. This conviction, though not entirely 
 satisfactory, gave her pleasure, and she continued 
 her letter with greater alacrity. Marianne's was 
 finished in a very few minutes ; in length it could 
 be no more than a note; it was then folded up, 
 sealed, and directed with eager rapidity. Elinor 
 thought she could distinguish a large W in the 
 direction; and no sooner was it complete than 
 Marianne, ringing the bell, requested the footman 
 who answered it to get that letter conveyed for her 
 to the two-penny post. This decided the matter 
 at once. 
 
 Her spirits still continued very high; but there 
 was a flutter in them which prevented their giving 
 much pleasure to her sister, and this agitation 
 increased as the evening drew on. She could 
 scarcely eat any dinner; and when they afterwards 
 returned to the drawing-room, seemed anxiously 
 listening to the sound of every carriage. 
 
 It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs. 
 Jennings, by being much engaged in her own 
 room, could see little of what was passing. The 
 tea-things were brought in, and already had Mari- 
 anne been disa|)pointed more than once by a rap 
 at a neighboring door, when a loud one was sud- 
 
232 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 denly heard which could not be mistaken for one 
 at any other house. Elinor felt secure of its an- 
 nouncing Willoughby's approach; and Marianne, 
 starting up, moved towards the door. Everything 
 was silent : this could not be borne many seconds ; 
 she opened the door, advanced a few steps towards 
 the stairs, and after listening half a minute, re- 
 turned into the room in all the agitation which a 
 conviction of having heard him would naturally 
 produce. In the ecstasy of her feelings at that 
 instant she could not help exclaiming, ^^Oh, 
 Elinor, it is Willoughby, indeed it is! and 
 seemed almost ready to throw herself into his 
 arms, when Colonel Brandon appeared. 
 
 It was too great a shock to be borne with calm- 
 ness, and she immediately left the room. Elinor 
 was disappointed too, but at the same time her 
 regard for Colonel Brandon insured his welcome 
 with her; and she felt particularly hurt that a 
 man so partial to her sister should perceive that 
 she experienced nothing but grief and disappoint- 
 ment in seeing him. She instantly saw that it 
 was not unnoticed by him; that he even observed 
 Marianne, as she quitted the room, with such as- 
 tonishment and concern as hardly left him the 
 recollection of what civility demanded towards 
 herself. 
 
 Is your sister ill? " said he. 
 
 Elinor answered, in some distress, that she was 3 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 233 
 
 and then talked of headaches, low spirits, and over- 
 fatigues, and of everything to which she could 
 decently attribute her sister's behavior. 
 
 He heard her with the most earnest attention; 
 but seeming to recollect himself, said no more on 
 the subject, and began directly to speak of his 
 pleasure at seeing them in London, making the 
 usual inquiries about their journey and the friends 
 they had left behind. 
 
 In this calm kind of way, with very little inter- 
 est on either side, they continued to talk; both of 
 them out of spirits, and the thoughts of both en- 
 gaged elsewhere. Elinor wished very much to 
 ask whether Willoughby were then in town, but 
 she was afraid of giving him pain by any inquiry 
 after his rival; and at length, by way of saying 
 something, she asked if he had been in London 
 ever since she had seen him last. ^^Yes," he 
 replied, with some embarrassment, ^'almost ever 
 since ; I have been once or twice at Delaford for a 
 few days, but it has never been in my power to 
 return to Barton. 
 
 This, and the manner in which it was said, im- 
 mediately brought back to her remembrance all 
 the circumstances of his quitting that place, with 
 the uneasiness and suspicions they had caused to 
 Mrs. Jennings ; and she was fearful that her ques- 
 tion had implied much more curiosity on the sub- 
 ject than she had ever felt. 
 
234 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Mrs. Jennings soon came in. ^^Oh, Colonel," 
 said she, with her usual noisy cheerfulness, ^'1 am 
 monstrous glad to see you, — sorry I could not 
 come before, — beg your pardon, — but I have been 
 forced to look about me a little, and settle my 
 matters; for it is a long while since I have been 
 at home, and you know one has always a world of 
 little odd things to do after one has been away for 
 any time; and then I have had Cartwright to set- 
 tle with. Lord, I have been as busy as a bee ever 
 since dinner! But pray. Colonel, how came you to 
 conjure out that I should be in town to-day? " 
 
 ^^I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr. 
 Palmer's, where I have been dining." 
 
 ^^Oh, you did; well, and how do they all do at 
 their house? How does Charlotte do? I warrant 
 you she is a fine size by this time." 
 
 ^^Mrs. Palmer appeared quite well; and I am 
 commissioned to tell you that you will certainly 
 see her to-morrow." 
 
 ^^Ay, to be sure, I thought as much. Well, 
 Colonel, I have brought two young ladies with me, 
 you see, — that is, you see but one of them now, 
 but there is another somewhere. Your friend Miss 
 Marianne, too, which you will not be sorry to hear. 
 I do not know what you and Mr. Willoughby will 
 do between you about her. Ay, it is a fine thing 
 to be young and handsome. Well, I was young 
 once, but I never was very handsome, — worse luck 
 
 4 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 235 
 
 for me. Hoy»^ever, I got a very good husband, and 
 I don't know what the greatest beauty can do 
 more. Ah, poor man! he has been dead these 
 eight years and better. But, Colonel, where have 
 you been to since we parted? And how does your 
 business go on? Come, come, let 's have no secrets 
 among friends." 
 
 He replied with his accustomary mildness to all 
 her inquiries, but without satisfying her in any. 
 Elinor now began to make the tea, and Marianne 
 was obliged to appear again. 
 
 After her entrance Colonel Brandon became 
 more thoughtful and silent than he had been be- 
 fore, and Mrs. Jennings could not prevail on him 
 to stay long. No other visitor appeared that even- 
 ing, and the ladies were unanimous in agreeing to 
 go early to bed. 
 
 Marianne rose the next morning with recovered 
 spirits and happy looks. The disappointment of 
 the evening before seemed forgotten in the expec- 
 tation of what was to happen that day. They had 
 not long finished their breakfast before Mrs. 
 Palmer's barouche stopped at the door, and in a 
 few minutes she came laughing into the room, — so 
 delighted to see them all, that it was hard to say 
 whether she received most pleasure from meeting 
 her mother or the Miss Dashwoods again; so 
 surprised at their coming to town, though it was 
 what she had rather expected all along; so angry 
 
236 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 at their accepting her mother's invitation after 
 having declined her own, though at the same 
 time she would never have forgiven them if they 
 had not come! 
 
 ^^Mr. Palmer will be so happy to see you, 
 said she. " What do you think he said when he 
 heard of your coming with mamma? I forget 
 •what it was now, but it was something so droll! '' 
 
 After an hour or two spent in what her mother 
 called comfortable chat, or, in other words, in every 
 variety of inquiry concerning all their acquaint- 
 ance on Mrs. Jennings's side, and in laughter 
 without cause on Mrs. Palmer's, it was proposed 
 by the latter that they should all accompany her 
 to some shops, where she had business that morn- 
 ing, to which Mrs. Jennings and Elinor readily 
 consented, as having likewise some purchases to 
 make themselves; and Marianne, though declining 
 it at first, was induced to go likewise. 
 
 Wherever they went she was evidently always 
 on the watch. In Bond Street, especially, where 
 much of their business lay, her eyes were in con- 
 stant inquiry; and in whatever shop the j^arty 
 were engaged her mind was equally abstracted from 
 everything actually before them, from all that 
 interested and occupied the others. Eestless and 
 dissatisfied everywhere, her sister could never ob- 
 tain her opinion of any article of purchase, how- 
 ever it might equally concern them both; she 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 237 
 
 received no pleasure from anything; was only 
 impatient to be at home again^ and could with 
 difficulty govern her vexation at the tediousness of 
 Mrs. Palmer, whose eye was caught by everything 
 pretty, expensive, or new; who was wild to buy all, 
 could determine on none, and dawdled away her 
 time in rapture and indecision. 
 
 It was late in the morning before they returned 
 home; and no sooner had they entered the house 
 than Marianne flew eagerly upstairs; and when 
 Elinor followed, she found her turning from the 
 table with a sorrowful countenance which declared 
 that no Willoughby had been there. 
 
 ^^Has no letter been left here for me since we 
 went out?'' said she to the footman, who then 
 entered with the parcels. She was answered in 
 the negative. ^^Are you quite sure of it?'' she 
 replied. ^^Are you certain that no servant, no 
 porter, has left any letter or note?" 
 
 The man replied that none had. 
 
 How very odd! " said she, in a low and disap- 
 pointed voice, as she turned away to the window. 
 
 ^^How odd, indeed!" repeated Elinor within 
 herself, regarding her sister with uneasiness. ^^If 
 she had not known him to be in town, she would 
 not have written to him as she did, she would 
 have written to Combe Magna; and if he is in 
 town, how odd that he should neither come nor 
 write! Oh, my dear mother, you must be wrong 
 
238 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 in permitting an engagement between a daughter 
 so young, a man so little known, to be carried on 
 in so doubtful, so mysterious a manner! / long to 
 inquire; but how will viy interference be borne? 
 
 She determined, after some consideration, that if 
 appearances continued many days longer as un- 
 pleasant as they now were, she would represent in 
 the strongest manner to her mother the necessity 
 of some serious inquiry into the affair. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer and two elderly ladies of Mrs. Jen- 
 nings's intimate acquaintance, whom she had met 
 and invited in the morning, dined with them. 
 The former left them soon after tea to fulfil her 
 evening engagements; and Elinor was obliged to 
 assist in making a whist-table for the others. 
 Marianne was of no use on these occasions, as she 
 would never learn the game ; but though her time 
 was therefore at her own disposal, the evening was 
 by no means more productive of pleasure to her 
 than to Elinor, for it was spent in all the anxiety 
 of expectation and the pain of disappointment. 
 She sometimes endeavored for a few minutes to 
 read; but the book w^as soon thrown aside, and she 
 returned to the more interesting employment of 
 walking backwards and forwards across the room, 
 pausing for a moment whenever she came to the 
 window, in hopes of distinguishing the long- 
 expected rap. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 ^^If this open weather holds much longer/' said 
 Mrs. Jennings, when they met at breakfast the 
 following morning, ^^Sir John will not like leav- 
 ing Barton next week; 't is a sad thing for sports- 
 men to lose a day's pleasure. Poor souls! I 
 always pity them when they do; they seem to 
 take it so much to heart." 
 
 ^^That is true/' cried Marianne, in a cheerful 
 voice, and walking to the window as she spoke, to 
 examine the day. ^^I had not thought of that. 
 This weather will keep many sportsmen in the 
 country." 
 
 It was a lucky recollection; all her good spirits 
 were restored by it. ^^It is charming weather for 
 them indeed," she continued, as she sat down to 
 the breakfast-table with a happy countenance. 
 ^^How much they must enjoy it! But," with a 
 little return of anxiety, ^^it cannot be expected to 
 last long. At this time of the year, and after such 
 a series of rain, we shall certainly have very little 
 more of it. Frosts will soon set in, and in all 
 probability with severity. In another day or two, 
 
240 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 perhaps; this extreme mildness can hardly last 
 longer, — nay, perhaps it may freeze to-night! " 
 
 ^^At any rate/' said Elinor, wishing to prevent 
 Mrs. Jennings from seeing her sister's thoughts 
 as clearly as she did, ^^I dare say we shall have 
 Sir John and Lad}^ Middleton in town by the end 
 of next week." 
 
 Ay, m}^ dear, I '11 warrant you we do. Mary 
 always has her own way." 
 
 And now," silently conjectured Elinor, ^^she 
 will write to Combe by this day's post." 
 
 But if she didy the letter was written and sent 
 away with a privacy which eluded all her watch- 
 fulness to ascertain the fact. Whatever the truth 
 of it might be, and far as Elinor was from feeling 
 thorough contentment about it, yet while she saw 
 Marianne in spirits, she could not be very uncom- 
 fortable herself. And Marianne was in spirits; 
 happy in the mildness of the w^eather, and still 
 happier in her expectation of a frost. 
 
 The morning was chiefly spent in leaving cards 
 at the houses of Mrs. Jennings's acquaintance, to 
 inform them of her being in town; and Marianne 
 was all the time busy in observing the direc- 
 tion of the wind, watching the variations of the 
 sky, and imagining an alteration in the air. 
 
 Don't you find it colder than it was in the 
 morning, Elinor? There seems to me a very decided 
 difference. I can hardly keep my hands warm 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 241 
 
 even in my muff. It was not so yesterday, I 
 think. The clouds seem parting too; the sun will 
 be out in a moment, and we shall have a clear 
 afternoon. ' ' 
 
 Elinor was alternately diverted and pained; but 
 Marianne persevered, and saw every night in the 
 brightness of the fire, and every morning in the 
 appearance of the atmosphere, the certain symp- 
 toms of approaching frost. 
 
 The Miss Dashwoods had no greater reason to be 
 dissatisfied wath Mrs. Jennings's style of living 
 and set of acquaintance, than with her behavior to 
 themselves, which was invariably kind. Every- 
 thing in her household arrangements was conducted 
 on the most liberal plan, and excepting a few old 
 city friends, whom, to Lady Middleton's regret, 
 she had never dropped, she visited no one to whom 
 an introduction could at all discompose the feel- 
 ings of her young companions. Pleased to find 
 herself more comfortably situated in that particular 
 than she had expected, Elinor was very willing to 
 compound for the want of much real enjoyment 
 from any of their evening parties, wdiich, whether 
 at home or abroad, formed only for cards, could 
 have little to amuse her. 
 
 Colonel Brandon, who had a general invitation 
 to the house, was with them almost every day: he 
 came to look at Marianne, and talk to Elinor, who 
 often derived more satisfaction from conversing 
 
 VOL. I. — 16 
 
242 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 with him than from any other daily occurrence, 
 but who saw at the same time, with much con- 
 cern, his continued regard for her sister. She 
 feared it was a strengthening regard. It grieved 
 her to see the earnestness with which he often 
 watched Marianne; and his spirits were certainly 
 worse than when at Barton. 
 
 About a week after their arrival it became cer- 
 tain that Willoughby was also arrived. His card 
 was on the table when they came in from the 
 morning's drive. 
 
 Good God!" cried Marianne, ''he has been 
 here while we were out." Elinor, rejoiced to be 
 assured of his being in London, now ventured to 
 say, Depend upon it, he will call again to-mor- 
 row." But Marianne seemed hardly to hear her,* 
 and, on Mrs. Jennings's entrance, escaped with the 
 precious card. 
 
 This event, while it raised the spirits of Elinor, 
 restored to those of her sister all, and more than 
 all, their former agitation. From this moment 
 her mind was never quiet; the expectation of see- 
 ing him every hour of the day made her unfit for 
 anything. She insisted on being left behind, 
 the next morning, when the others went out. 
 
 Elinor's thoughts were full of what might be 
 passing in Berkeley Street during their absence; 
 but a moment's glance at her sister, when they re- 
 turned, was enough to inform her that Willoughby 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 243 
 
 had paid no second visit there. A note was just 
 then brought in, and laid on the table. 
 
 For me!" cried Marianne, stepping hastily 
 forward. 
 
 ^^ISTo, ma'am, for my mistress." 
 
 But Marianne, not convinced, took it instantly 
 up. 
 
 ^^It is, indeed, for Mrs. Jennings; how 
 provoking! " 
 
 ^^You are expecting a letter, then?" said Eli- 
 nor, unable to be longer silent. 
 Yes, a little, — not much." 
 
 After a short pause, You have no confidence in 
 me, Marianne." 
 
 ^^Nay, Elinor, this reproach from you, — you 
 who have confidence in no one! " 
 
 ^^Me!" returned Elinor, in some confusion; 
 
 indeed, Marianne, I have nothing to tell." 
 
 ^^Nor I," answered Marianne, with energy; 
 ^^our situations then are alike. We have neither 
 of us anything to tell, — you, because you commu- 
 nicate; and I, because I conceal nothing." 
 
 Elinor, distressed by this charge of reserve in 
 herself, which she was not at liberty to do away, 
 knew not how, under such circumstances, to press 
 for greater openness in Marianne. 
 
 Mrs. Jennings soon appeared; and the note being 
 given her, she read it aloud. It was from Lady 
 Middleton, announcing their arrival in Conduit 
 
244 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Street the night before, and requesting the com- 
 pany of her mother and cousins the following 
 evening. Business on Sir John's part, and a vio- 
 lent cold on her own, prevented their calling in 
 Berkeley Street. The invitation was accepted; 
 but when the hour of appointment drew near, ne- 
 cessary as it was, in common civility, to Mrs. Jen- 
 nings that they should both attend her on such a 
 visit, Elinor had some difficulty in persuading her 
 sister to go; for still she had seen nothing of Wil- 
 loughby, and therefore was not more indisposed 
 for amusement abroad than unwilling to run the 
 risk of his calling again in her absence. 
 
 Elinor found, when the evening was over, that 
 disposition is not materially altered by a change of 
 abode; for although scarcely settled in town. Sir 
 John had contrived to collect around him nearly 
 twenty young people, and to amuse them with a 
 ball. This was an affair, however, of which Lady 
 Middleton did not approve. In the country an 
 unpremeditated dance was very allowable; but in 
 London, where the reputation of elegance was 
 more important and less easily obtained, it was 
 risking too much for the gratification of a few girls, 
 to have it known that Lady Middleton had given a 
 small dance, of eight or nine couples, with two 
 violins, and a mere sideboard collation. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Palmer were of the party; from 
 the former, whom they had not seen before since 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 245 
 
 their arrival in town, as lie was careful to avoid 
 the appearance of any attention to his mother-in- 
 law, and therefore never came near her, they re- 
 ceived no mark of recognition on their entrance. 
 He looked at them slightly, without seeming to 
 know who they were, and merely nodded to Mrs. 
 Jennings from the other side of the room. Mari- 
 anne gave one glance round the apartment as she 
 entered, — it was enough, he was not there ; and 
 she sat down, equally ill-disposed to receive or 
 communicate pleasure. After they had been as- 
 sembled about an hour, Mr. Palmer sauntered 
 towards the Miss Dashwoods to express his sur- 
 prise on seeing them in town, though Colonel 
 Brandon had been first informed of their arrival 
 at his house, and he had himself said something 
 very droll on hearing that they were to come. 
 
 I thought you were both in Devonshire/' said 
 
 he. 
 
 " Did you? replied Elinor. 
 
 When do you go back again? " 
 ^^I do not know." And thus ended their 
 discourse. 
 
 Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance 
 in her life as she was that evening, and never so 
 much fatigued by the exercise. She complained of 
 it as they returned to Berkeley Street. 
 
 Ay, ay," said Mrs. Jennings, ^^we know^ the 
 reason of all that very well: if a certain person, 
 
246 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 who shall be nameless^ had been there, you would 
 not have been a bit tired; and, to say the truth, 
 it was not very pretty of him not to give you the 
 meeting when he was invited." 
 Invited! " cried Marianne. 
 ^^So my daughter Middleton told me; for it 
 seems Sir John met him somewhere in the street 
 this morning." Marianne said no more, but 
 looked exceedingly hurt. Impatient in this situa- 
 tion to be doing something that might lead to her 
 sister's relief, Elinor resolved to write the next 
 morning to her mother, and hoped, by awakening 
 her fears for the health of Marianne, to procure 
 those inquiries which had been so long delayed; 
 and she was still more eagerly bent on this meas- 
 ure, by perceiving, after breakfast on the morrow, 
 that Marianne was again writing to Willoughby, 
 for she could not suppose it to be to any other 
 person. 
 
 About the middle of the day Mrs. Jennings 
 went out by herself on business, and Elinor began 
 her letter directly, while Marianne, too restless for 
 employment, too anxious for conversation, walked 
 from one window to the other, or sat down by the 
 fire in melancholy meditation. Elinor was very 
 earnest in her application to her mother; relat- 
 ing all that had passed, her suspicions of Wil- 
 loughby 's inconstancy; urging her, by every plea 
 of duty and affection, to demand from Marianne 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 247 
 
 an account of her real situation with respect 
 to him. 
 
 Her letter was scarcely finished, when a rap 
 foretold a visitor, and Colonel Brandon was an- 
 nounced. Marianne, who had seen him from the 
 window, and who hated company of any kind, left 
 the room before he entered it. He looked more 
 than usually grave; and though expressing satis- 
 faction at finding Miss Dashwood alone, as if he 
 had somewhat in particular to tell her, sat for 
 some time without saying a word. Elinor, per- 
 suaded that he had some communication to make 
 in which her sister was concerned, impatiently ex- 
 pected its opening. It was not the first time of 
 her feeling the same kind of conviction; for more 
 than once before, beginning with the observation 
 of, Your sister looks unwell to-day," or Your 
 sister seems out of spirits," he had appeared on 
 the point either of disclosing or of inquiring 
 something particular about her. After a pause of 
 several minutes their silence was broken by his 
 asking her, in a voice of some agitation, when he 
 was to congratulate her on the acquisition of a 
 brother. Elinor was not prepared for such a ques- 
 tion, and having no answer ready, was obliged to 
 adopt the simple and common expedient of asking 
 what he meant. He tried to smile, as he replied: 
 
 Your sister's engagement to Mr. Willoughby is 
 very generally known." 
 
248 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ^' It cannot be generally known/' returned Eli- 
 nor, " for her own family do not know it.'' 
 
 He looked surprised, and said: "1 beg your 
 pardon, I am afraid my inquiry has been imperti- 
 nent ; but I had not supposed any secrecy intended, 
 as they openly correspond, and their marriage is 
 universally talked of." 
 
 ^^How can that be? By whom can you have 
 heard it mentioned?" 
 
 ' ' By many, — by some of whom you know noth- 
 ing, by others with whom you are most intimate, 
 Mrs. Jennings, Mrs. Palmer, and the Middletons. 
 But still I might not have believed it — for where 
 the mind is perhaps rather unwilling to be con- 
 vinced, it will always find something to support 
 its doubts — if I had not, when the servant let me 
 in to-day, accidentally seen a letter in his hand, 
 directed to Mr. Willoughby, in your sister's writ- 
 ing. I came to inquire, but I was convinced be- 
 fore I could ask the question. Is everything 
 finally settled? Is it impossible to — But I 
 have no right, and I could have no chance of suc- 
 ceeding. Excuse me. Miss Dashwood. I believe 
 I have been wrong in saying so much, but I hardly 
 know what to do, and on your prudence I have the 
 strongest dependence. Tell me that it is all ab- 
 solutely resolved on ; that any attempt — that, in 
 short, concealment, if concealment be possible, 
 is all that remains." 
 
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 249 
 
 These words, which conveyed to Elinor a direct 
 avowal of his love for her sister, affected her very 
 much. She was not immediately able to say any- 
 thing; and even when her spirits were recovered, 
 she debated for a short time on the answer it would 
 be most proper to give. The real state of things 
 between Willoughby and her sister was so little 
 known to herself that in endeavoring to explain 
 it, she might be as liable to say too much as too 
 little. Yet, as she was convinced that Marianne's 
 affection for Willoughby could leave no hope of 
 Colonel Brandon^s success, whatever the event of 
 that affection might be, and at the same time 
 wished to shield her conduct from censure, she 
 thought it most prudent and kind, after some con- 
 sideration, to say more than she really knew or 
 believed. She acknowledged, therefore, that though 
 she had never been informed by themselves of the 
 terms on which they stood with each other, of 
 their mutual affection she had no doubt, and of 
 their correspondence she was not astonished to 
 hear. 
 
 He listened to her with silent attention; and on 
 her ceasing to speak, rose directly from his seat, 
 and after saying in a voice of emotion, ^^To your 
 sister I wish all imaginable happiness; to Wil- 
 loughby that he may endeavor to deserve her,'' 
 took leave, and went away. 
 
 Elinor derived no comfortable feelings from this 
 
250 
 
 SENSE AND SENSIBILITY. 
 
 conversation to lessen the uneasiness of her mind 
 on other points; she was left, on the contrary, 
 with a melancholy impression of Colonel Brandon's 
 unhappiness, and was prevented even from wishing 
 it removed, hy her anxiety for the very event that 
 must confirm it.